The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings - Lot 037 : The 1% (Chapter 2)

Episode Date: March 24, 2024

The second part in a series of tales of Dr. Allen Allship and his…peculiar practice.The 1%Written by E.Z. MorganNarrated by Lauren ClareStarring Mark Redfield as Dr.Allen AllshipDee Quintero as Rebecca // BeckyLaura Mirsky as MommyConan Freeman as DaddyTrevor Shand as Barry Melanie Rose as #1459Taylor Robyn as #1101https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/3ryf0g/the_1_part_3_995/https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/3t1df9/the_1_part_5_allen/Featuring Stephen Knowles as The Antique DealerTheme music by The Newton BrothersAdditional music by:CO.AG. ([e-mail])Additional sound effects by:Lara’s Horror Soundshttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nx6kGJeSLGo Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Welcome back, friend. Come seeking something truly unsettling, haven't you? Mm-hmm. Just a short while ago, you stopped by here to pick up a business card from a man named Dr. Allen Allship, local plastic surgeon. I do believe there's still some story to tell, in fact. It all starts with this, a pair of safety scissors. Not unlike you'd find in an elementary school classroom.

Safety scissors were born in such a place, you know. Wilbur Stilwell was chair of the Department of Art for over 30 years at the University of South Dakota. He and his wife Gladys sought to make art safe and accessible to people of all ages, including children. After hundreds of sketches in 1952, the uh safety scissors had cut themselves a hole into the fabric of reality. Now you'd be wise to assume that the Stillwells never intended their groundbreaking invention

to be the centerpiece of depravity, but alas, you are at the antiquarium. This is Chapter 2 of the 1%. Before we begin, I want to point out some of the customers whose names have been etched in brass on this beautiful plaque I had made above the front desk. These are some of the members of the inner circle of the antiquarium. We go by the Obsidian Covenant. Recent initiates include Labishi, Winston Lay, Mike, Luciana O'Keefe, Holly. Lasky, Vaughan, Ginny, Melissa E, and Artsy Flamingo. We are ever appreciative of your devotion to The Order.

Go to the Obsidian Covenant.com to receive the sacrament. Now, where were we? Oh yes. Welcome to the antiquarium of sinister happenings. And odd goings on. Number 9.95 remembers. He has a very good memory. A doctor might say he has a photographic memory.

But he's only ever seen one doctor. And that doctor is not interested in his mind. Number 9.95 remembers every single miserable day he's ever experienced. On this particular day, he's cleaning out the bedpans of the den. There are 22 bedpans belonging to 22 different numbers. Each one must be emptied. Scrubbed, dried and returned. Fifteen of the numbers will need their genitals cleaned.

Sixth them will be able to clean themselves. And one of them does not have genitals to clean at all. It is not very loud in the den. Sometimes there is screaming, but mostly just a small. sounds of pain. 995 had his ears intact, so you can hear everything. He has asked Alan to remove his ears, but Alan refuses. He claims he cannot fix the past. And when 995 enters, number 1470s room, he is bedridden, like most of them are in the beginning. His body is healing from being perfected. He's almost completely covered in bandages, except his face. He always

had a perfect face. Number 9.95 remembers. Number 1470's first night in the den. He pounded on the walls. He screamed and threatened. He used to be a tall man, before Alan's corrections, and made a frightening impression. His face, even reddened with anger and fear, was perfect.

He had complete symmetry of the eyes and cheekbones. Even when he tried to hang himself with the bed sheet, his face remained such a beautiful sight. It must have been hard for Alan to cut off his cheeks, nose and lips. Alan did love perfection, but he loved his work more. Number 9.95 slips the bedpan under number 1470. Number 1470's eyes plead with him. They seemed to almost speak a laugh.

But of course, number 9.95 would do no such thing. Plus everyone in the den had the exact same look. he'd grown accustomed to it. Number 9.95 returns more bedpans but lingers in one of the last rooms. This is number 1459. She is standing away from a door, towards the wall. She is one of the only ones allowed to wear clothing. She is wearing a skin-tight white nurse's dress.

Her hair is long and blonde, just like the rest of them. She is barefoot, but a woman. A pair of high hills lie near her. She doesn't move. Number 9.95 moves in a bit closer. It is always exciting to see the transformation. No one would have guessed a bit under a year ago she was a shut-in, who only opened her door to delivery drivers.

Number 9.95 remembers. She came in quietly, as if she had already given up. Must have enjoyed that. He likes to pretend that his numbers appreciate the work he does. He likes to pretend he makes their lives better. Number 1459 must have suddenly noticed him because she turns around to face him. Her face is a plastered on smile. Her makeup has been tattooed to her skin.

Skin so tight it looked a bit painful she tilted her head. Hello, sir. She does not stop smiling. Has the doctor called for me? Number 9.95 shakes his head and looks at the floor. Number 14.59 giggles a bit. That's all right, sir. I will be ready when he does call. That she turns back and faces the wall.

Number 995 slinks out of our room. The last bedpan, he has to deliver as number 11.01. A terrible smell waffes from her room, much worse than any of the others. She's been here the longest, except for number 995, himself. All of the others have either transformed or died, or both. But number 1101 is stubborn. Maybe this is why Alan continued to work on her for all these years. She has gone through so many operations.

it was doubtful whether she retained any of a natural skin. Her bones have been broken and reset so many times. They creaked if she moved an inch. But through the years, she remained willful. Alan had sewn her mouth shut over and over, because if he gave her even the slightest opportunity to speak, she would curse him. She never lost her fight.

If she could move her legs, she would kick him. If she had teeth, she would bite. Alan finally had to remove all her limbs. Her teeth were gone, her eyelids too. And she was the only one No. 9.95 had ever seen who had her genitals taken from her. All she had was smooth hairless skin and holes.

Number 9.95 remembers the first day she came. She wasn't like number 1459. She was taken in the night from her family. Sixteen, she had been, just a few years younger than number 9.95 himself. She was a chubby farm girl who smelled of the earth. She wore a beautiful blue nightgown that dusted her hills. She woke up only a few hours after Alan put her in the den. She said nothing for the first few minutes, walking around her cell as if she was going to climb it.

and that night, her first night, she showed how strong she was. Hey! She called. Number 9.95 had been sitting in the hall, watching her like he watched every new number. He looked around confused, but it registered finally that she was speaking to him. Did you put me in here? Her tone was calm, collected. She wasn't going to pound the walls or cry out.

She was measuring up her surroundings. number 995 just shook his head and looked away. Number 1101 fooled her brow. Are they going to do to me like they did you? She must have been referring to number 995's appearance. He looked a bit worse back then, since scars can take years to hill. He was Alan's first 1%. Alan had worked on him for eight months exclusively.

He was a rookie surgeon then, just a fledgling and his father's tutelage. He made many mistakes on number 9.95, and number 995 felt every one of them. But in the moment, number 995 didn't know whether to nod or shake his head. He of course couldn't vocally respond, given his tongue had been removed. So he just pressed his arms into himself. His hook dug a little into a scar tissue That was his stomach But he had lost all of the nerve endings there

Number 1101 pressed her hand against the bars on the door of her room Come closer Number 995 was hesitant But he hobbled to her door She smiled kindly Number 995 hadn't said a kind smile since he was a child. Do you have a name? Number 995 nodded.

He turned around to show her the back of his neck. There, tattooed in the dark red ink, with the numbers 995. He faced her again, expecting to see a look of pity or scorn. But instead he saw that same kindness. I've got a weird name too. It's Amarillis. Named after a flower, but truth be told, I'm not much like a flower. You can call me Mar.

She moves so both her hands were now pressing against the bars. You have to promise me you'll never forget that. You can't forget my name. I'm betting they're going to want to give me some numbers too. But those aren't real. I'm real and you're real. You understand? Number 995 nodded slowly.

Then he did something he knew Alan would have punished him for. He pressed his one intact hands to the bars and touched hers. He could feel her skin, her sweat. He felt a connection for the first time since Dr. Allen all shipped the second had pried him from his dead mother and brought him down to the den. He never touched her after that, and she never spoke to him. Number 9.95 saw her every day for 43 years. But neither showed any recollection of that first night.

But every day, number 1101 still had kindness in her. After every single operation, she still had kindness in her, lidless eyes. But on this day, the smell is overwhelming. And sadly, it is a smell. number 995 recognized. He's dead, isn't she? Alan is behind number 995. They stand staring into the room together.

Number 111 is finally dead. Alan is smiling. He is proud. It's great news, number 995. I've got a brand new one to take her room. I wonder if Dr. Altship is available for house calls. Here he's got a hell of a date. I'm deductible. Sorry for the interruption. I've got a particularly animated curio in the stockroom to tend to, but I'll be right back faster than a cat lapping chain lightning.

The message. Talking back, she wasn't supposed to talk back, and now. Thank you kindly for your patience. Now, let's see what our twisted mess of a friend Becky is up to, shall we? Barry could feel the pus raining from his eyes socket. It dripped agonizingly slow from the corner of his eyelids down the side of his nose. It pulled under his upper lip. The smell of it was terrible, but the smell was always terrible. He would have wiped it away, but as always, his arms were strapped to the bed. He'd been in this bed for almost three years.

He'd worn his Fred Bear pajamas. for the same amount of time. The once blue stripes on the fabric had faded with the stains of bodily fluids. Barry had once been a very active man. He enjoyed mounting biking and running. His life had been full of busy days and nights. His endless supply of money from his parents

allowed him to do anything he wished. Even marry a stripper he had fallen head over hills for. But now, he was. was limited to the inches of bed he could move within. Even then, his muscles had atrophied so badly he couldn't even lift his neck. Bed saws covered his with ring skin. Bordom was an everyday battle. He'd counted every ceiling tile over a hundred times. He knew the patterns of the sun and moon. He slept as much as he could, but the pain kept him awake.

Monica checked in on him as much as she could. She was a timid woman in her mid-forties. She had a hard time looking Barry in the eye. She cleaned his wounds with rubbing alcohol, murmuring apologies. She wasn't a nurse, but had become used to the blood. Barry would often plead with her to call the police. It would offer her money, more money than she had ever dreamed.

But she never took him up on his offer. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Barry understood she never would. He barely ever saw Gerard her husband, but sometimes he could hear him from the other room. She liked to sit on Jared's lap, giggling indecently. Monica never cried anymore, but Jared sometimes did. They were both present at the wedding all those years ago. Monica had worked for him for years. She was more like a friend than a housecar.

cleaner. Barry made sure to include her husband and their children. Monica really seemed to appreciate the invitation, even though she had warned him that there was something off about his new bride. But Monica hadn't visited yet today. Judging by the son's position, Barry guessed it was around 11 a.m. He would have to wait for her to get up before anyone could come help him. The past kept dripping and a bit fell onto his bottom lip. He wanted to vomit, but had nothing in his body. Without warning, she appeared in his doorway. It would have recoiled if he could move.

In the past few months, she had made herself into something terrifying. Her voice was unnaturally high. Her chest was completely flat. She often walked around the house in nothing but Disney-themed underwear. Today, she was a little bit Disney-themed underwear. was wearing her hair in two braids on either side of her head. She wore a Mickey Mouse costume. She must have bought from a Halloween shop.

The outfit was much too small for her, but she had managed to crawl into it. Barry didn't speak. For fear, he would be forced to taste the bile that was now covering his lips. She taunted in a horrible, high-pitched voice. Want to play with me? Barry closed his eyes tightly. He tried to think about their wedding day. she looked so beautiful in her dress.

He thought it was a little odd because she wore an exact replica of Cinderella's dress from the movie. But he was so in love with her, it would give her anything she wanted. They had hot dogs and cupcakes for their reception. The DJ played Kids' Bob. The party guys didn't say anything negative. They just gave strange smiles.

Even his parents were nervous to criticise anything. Barry, are you ignoring me? Her voice was so loud it hurt to listen. But Barry refused to open his eyes. He tried to think of a day they met at the strip club. She was called Dolly. She really played up the little girl angle, which made her a lot of money. Men really liked her rosy cheeks, pig tails and giant breasts.

But Barry saw beyond that. He saw her eyes beautiful and innocent. He paid $900 for a private dance. They spent the entire time talking. She explained how her parents died in a freak accident and since then, she's had to strip to survive. She started dancing when she was 11. Barry told her about his loneliness and how he really wanted to settle down.

She sat on his lap like a child. He can remember her words clearly. You're not like the other. Mary! He was torn from his memories by a sharp pain, in his throat. He cried out, realizing she cut him. The pus flew into his mouth and he was spluttered onto his chest. She stood over him, holding a pair of safety scissors. Blood speckled her face. Playtime, little puppy. She took the scissors and made criss crosses onto his neck.

Barry tried to scream, but the blood was stuck in his throat, so it came out as more of a gurgle. His blood spilled onto his chest and made his skin a creamy red. She was laughing until a different look suddenly crossed her face and she uttered a short. Barry felt himself losing consciousness. He thought he heard her yell for mummy and daddy and Monica and Jared came running in.

There was a flurry of movement and Barry passed out. Perry came swimming back into consciousness. He heard Rebecca's voice talking sternly. There were people still. standing over him. He opened his good eye, but his vision was faded. Faces were drifting above him, and he realized he wasn't strapped down.

Relief flooded over him. He tried to lift his arm, and with great effort, he was able to touch his face. His eye wasn't hurting anymore. He could have laughed. The people around him noticed the movement. Should we strap him down? Rebecca did not sound concerned. No, he has barely any muscle tissue left.

He wouldn't even make it to the door. The voice was a man's. It was calm, clinical. Barry blinked and tried to focus his vision. The scene became a bit clearer. He was in a dank room. On a hard metal bed, Rebecca and a stranger stood near to him.

He could vaguely make out Monica and Jared standing further away, huddled together. There was a lone light bulb hanging above them. It swung from left to right in an almost menacing fashion. Monica tried to chime in. Perhaps if we're... Mommy, shut up! Rebecca didn't even look at her.

Instead, her twisted face brightened into a large smile. You're looking he isn't dead. He dies? So does your precious potato-faced offspring. She laughed cruelly. You have their children. There was no shock, no concern. his face was completely devoid of emotion.

They're away at some factory in Russia. I sent them there to make clothing or something. I only have to say the word and they'll have a little accident. Rebecca did not remove her eyes from Barry. Barry tried to speak but found himself unable. He then recognized there was a pain in his throat. His hand fell into a large bandage covering his throat. Don't touch that.

The man spoke. It took quite a bit of time to stitch you up. Rebecca grinned. Dr. Ourship is the best doctor. He's the one who made me beautiful. And I've decided to give you to him. He works miracles, you know. Dr. Orship allowed himself to smile.

You are too kind, Becky. You put a gloved hand over Barry's good eye. You are in need of quite a bit of work, young man. but we'll have you looking your best again. He turned to someone. Number 995. Make sure number one four seven seven is tomorrow. We will be removing the one eye he has left.

Barry panicked, tried to stand. He tried to move or do anything. But he only managed to fall off the table. Rebecca laughed at him. You are so... She bent over him tauntingly. Barry then heard a large fud. He opened his good.

good eye and saw Rebecca had fallen next to him, seemingly unconscious. He tried to look upward, but only saw the glint of a large object Dr. Olship was carrying. Number 995. We'll also be needing a room for number one, 478. Dr. Allship turned backwards towards Monica and Jared. Please, we won't say anything. We have never said anything. The doctor did not register, to Jared's voice at all. As for you two, your services are no longer needed. Barry heard Monica scream. Two loud bangs rang in the air.

And there were two fuds of bones hitting an earthen floor. Doctor ship bent down to Barry's eye level. Barry could see his face clearly. His eyes were a pale blue, nearly white. You must excuse me, number one, four seven, seven. Please don't think I am a bad and have time for four new patients. Sometimes you have to let some clients go.

To be continued. 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. 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, Lod 037, the 1%. Chapter 2, written by E. Z. Morgan, narrated by Lauren Clare. Starring Mark Redfield as Dr. Allen Allship. D. Quintero as Becky. Laura Mierski as Mommy.

Conan Freeman as Daddy. Trevor Shand as Barry. Melanie Rose as number 1459. Taylor Robin as number 1101. Featuring Stephen Knowles as the antique dealer. Engineering production and sound design by Trevor Shand. Theme music by the Newton Brothers. Additional music by 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.