The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings - Lot 038 : My Friend Has A Camera That Will Show You Your Last Photograph Before You Die // I Listened to A True Crime Podcast

Episode Date: April 4, 2024

The burgeoning afterlife tourism industry.I Listened To A True Crime Podcast..About MyselfWritten by Robert MortNarrated by Addison PeacockStarring Ryan Lee as The VoiceConan Freeman as The InterviewerTrevor Shand as Gabehttps://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/p6k0xq/i_listened_to_a_true_crime_podcast_about_myself/?share_id=4J5Gw20ItM0OB-zeuyQ7S&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf&utm_source=share&utm_term=4My Friend Has A Camera That Will Show You Your Last Photograph Before You DieWritten by Blair DanielsStarring Trevor Shand as BennyAllisson Cossitt as CaseyDerek U as BradyDee Quintero as Maribelhttps://www.reddit.com/r/blairdaniels/comments/17lv975/my_friend_has_a_camera_that_will_show_you_your/?share_id=sTENuhg8ssZJUSGGRipUh&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf&utm_source=share&utm_term=4Featuring Stephen Knowles as The Antique DealerTheme music by The Newton BrothersAdditional music by CO.AG ([e-mail]) Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Well, I know who this is. Ha, ha, ha. I knew it wouldn't be long before I saw you again. Hungry? I just put in an order from Alessandro's pizza. Should be here any moment if you'd like to join me for a slice. Best pizza in town. Meanwhile, I've got a morbid new consignment in for you.

That just might ruin your appetite. This looks strong. to be a pair of regular old red sneakers, just like you'd pick up any place. Only these regular old red sneakers will walk you down the treacherous path of, I listened to a true crime podcast. Before we begin, I want to point out some of the customers whose names have been etched in brass on this beautiful black 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 Joshua Pore, Alex Blackwell, Edward Sanderson, Todd Hawes, Panda, Louis DePree, Terra Michelle Castrasana, Tee Hill Music, and Menace. Melano Voce mystique, we are ever appreciative of your devotion to the order. Go to the Obsidian Covenant.com to receive the sacrament. Now, where were we? Yes.

Welcome to the antiquarium of sinister happenings and odd goings on. Every night on my walk home from work, I listen. to true crime podcasts. Even though my favorite podcast already released their episode for this week, the app said there was a new one. Excited, I hit play. Was a small town that still has mom and pop shops lining the street. Who knows your name?

But little did the residents know that they would soon be rocked by a horrible crime. I stopped at a traffic light. The red glowed in the darkness glinting off the wet street. A black SUV sloshed by. Across from me, eerie blue refrigerator lights glowed from inside a corner deli. The chairs all up on their tables, feet in the air. The signal turned to walk. At chilly September evening was no different for the young student.

She'd left her shift at the local store and walked back home. except she never made it home. Young student, local store. Damn, this was hitting close to home. I was a part-time student at Franklin Community College and worked at the local convenience store. And, of course, I was walking home. I glanced behind me,

looking at the alleyway behind Alessandro's pizza, which was dark except for the neon light spilling from the sign. Her boyfriend reported her missing the next day. The town conducted a volunteer-led search, and after two days, they found something. Dread formed in my stomach, anticipating a body. But what he said next was so, so much worse. Washed up on the shores of Washington Lake,

they found a pair of size nine. Red Converse Sneakers. I stopped and looked down at my red Converse sneakers, damp from the rain. The hell? My heart began to pound. The shoes were sent to a forensic analyst, who would compare its wear pattern to another pair of her shoes to try and determine if they belonged to the victim. A rumbling sound made me jump. I turned to see a dark SUV turning left at the intersection.

Didn't I see that car a few minutes ago? Maybe it's following me, and the car passed me and disappeared into the darkness. Come on, Sarah, get a grip. Converse are popular sneakers. A little out of fashion, but still, Nine is a common women's shoe size, and what college student doesn't have some sort of a job. What, you think you're listening to some sort of prophecy of your own death?

Yeah, right. After a few weeks, the results came back, and a list was certain. The shoes belonged to none other than Sarah Campbell. The blood drained from my face. Sarah Campbell. My name. I didn't have time to think. I forced myself to move.

I broke into a run. The small shops turned into a colorful blur. Searching the lake came up empty. Without a body, a crime is hard to solve. But police didn't give up. And finally, a witness came forward. Someone had seen a car parked at the lake that night. Around 2 a.m., a black SUV with darkened windows.

No, no, no, what the hell is going on? I whipped around. The street was empty. No people, no cars, no witnesses, said the little voice in the back of my mind, the one that's watched way too many true crime shows. My eyes scanned at the shops, all closed. There were six black SUVs matching the witness's description in the Franklin area. One of them, in particular, caught Detective Nolan's eye. It belonged to John Kelly, a registered sex offender.

The sound was so soft I almost didn't hear it over the voice of the podcast. I whipped around. And there it was. Two blaring white headlights behind me. SUV. I forced my legs to pump faster. The car didn't speed up. It crawled along slowly, taking its time.

Like the driver knew he could catch me no matter what. I glanced back trying to make him out behind the darkened windshield. But the headlights were too bright. to see anything. They wasn't just a registered sex offender. He'd been convicted of a strongling a woman he worked with, who had multiple piercings and short dark hair, just like Sarah.

The car crawled down the road, stalking me, like a lioness stalks her prey. I veered left onto our dark residential street. Just a few more steps. Headlights flashed across me, illuminating my running shadow on the pavement. I didn't look back. I just ran as fast as I possibly could. The little brown house with the yellow shutters came into view.

I sprinted across the grass, grabbing my keys from my pocket. I threw the door open and slammed it shut behind me. Then I turned the dead bolt, collapsed against the door, and became crying. I heard the rush of the car passing our house, continuing down the road. But I wasn't safe. Gabe wasn't home yet. I was alone in a dark house with someone driving down the street

who knew exactly where I lived. Still sobbing, I checked all the locks. Then I called Gabe, who assured me he was five minutes away. I made my way down the dark hallway and headed into the bathroom. Then I set my phone on the counter, grabbed a clump of tissues, and began to blow my nose. I jumped, whipped around.

but it wasn't coming from outside the door. My phone's screen lit up. The podcast was still playing. I must have hit it when I put the phone down. It had skipped several minutes forward, according to the play indicator. What do you think happened to Sarah? The baritone voice asked. I reached for it to turn it off.

Told me she wanted to run away before. I stopped dead. It was Gabe's voice. clear his day coming from the speakers. She did. Why, she wasn't happy with the grades, her job, her parents. She told me sometimes she'd dream of just random state and leaving it all behind. I froze, staring at the mirror.

I never said that. Never. Gabe was lying? My heart pounded in my ears. So you think she just skipped down and is happily living her life out? somewhere else, rather than being abducted or murdered. A pause. That's all for now.

Thank you through our listeners. The outro played. I stared at my reflection. Everything coming down all at once. My mind trying to race and catch up with what it meant. The front door creaked open. Footsteps sounded outside. Sarah! I'm back!

I backed away from the door. Sarah! My eyes fell on the window. I ran over to it, turned the lock. I popped the screen out. Then I swung a leg over, pulled myself through the window, and ran as fast as I could. This is a placeholder you asked the order to include in your visits. Should you cross over to the chaos realm?

If you are hearing this, you are in extreme danger. You are in the wrong dimension. Use caution. The things around you are not what. They seem. Find your totem immediately or call me and aquarium to tender you. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Ah, looks like Alessandro's is here and not a minute too late. Tell you what. I'm just gonna run get that and we'll be right back.

Hope you like jalapeno. Leave a message. Please do so with the tone and have a good. That was amazing. I just discovered your podcast. It's raining over here in California, and I'm a mail carrier, and this has been keeping me company all day. Good job, you guys. Keep it up. Ha, ha. Thanks for your patience. Once you take a bite into this pizza, you'll know it was well worth the wait. Before we dive in, I had one more thing I set aside for you this week. infernal thing. Ah, there you. A disposable camera with very peculiar qualities. No matter how tempting, I suggest you don't use it to take any pictures.

I am positive you are not ready for it. Let's crawl into the dark room for, my friend has a camera that will show you your last photograph before you die. Dyes at some point. And with that reality, come some cold, hard facts. You will have a last kiss. A last hug?

A last photograph. On Friday night, we met up at Casey's house. Even though she has an annoying neighbor, her parents built this amazing fire pit that's the perfect spot for chilly autumn nights. After starting the fire and roasting some marshmallows, she brought out something I hadn't seen in at least a decade, a disposable camera.

This is a special camera. Casey said with a grin. Apparently, when you take a picture, it'll be your last photo before you die. I sat there trying to digest what she was saying. You mean the camera kills you? Yeah. Like that one, Goosebum's book? Brady replied.

Yes. Oh, oh, oh, say cheese and die. Oh my gosh. Yeah, I love that one. Maribel said, grinning. Casey held her hands up, clearly annoyed that we didn't get it. No, no, no. That's not what I mean.

Everyone has a last photo before they die. Like, for example, my grandpa. Three days before he passed away, he went on a fishing trip. The last photo of him on that trip is the last photo that was ever taken of him. Well, it's impossible for a camera to show that. It would have to be a time-traveling camera for that to work. You guys are no fun. Casey rolled her eyes and started putting the camera back in her bag.

Wait, wait. We didn't say we didn't want to use it. Yeah, I mean, it could be fun. A wicked smile flashed on Casey's lips. Okay, good. Who wants to be the first? Brady raised his hand. I'll go.

That was Brady for you. Never missed a chance to impress the girls. He stood up. His face lit by the roaring fire. Where should I stand? Yeah, the lighting's kind of harsh. Maybe you're by that tree over there. Brady walks several feet away from the fire

and stood next to the tree. Then he leaned against it, crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow. Casey raised the camera to her face. Three, two, one. White light flashed across the dark backyard. Brady stepped away from the tree, grinning. Okay, who's next? I'll go.

She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and stood next to the tree, somewhat awkwardly. Casey lifted the camera to her face again and took a photo. The ratcheting sound of her rewinding the film filled the air. Okay, Benny, your turn. She said, shooting me a smile. I walked over to the tree, took off my baseball cap, and waited. Casey lifted the camera to her face, then frowned. Can't you smile?

Let's see, no. Oh, fine. She rewound the film and handed the camera to me. Then she posed next to the tree in a classic sorority squat. Yeah, this wasn't awkward at all. Casey and I had just started dating, but the longer things were went on the more doubts I was having. Sure, we looked good in pictures. A classic football star slash cheerleader match. In reality, we weren't either of those things. She was pretty, but extremely

insecure, jealous, and high maintenance. I was a neurodivergent math nerd who just happened to luck out genetically and look like a jock. I stared at her through the viewfinder. Her form slightly distorted. Hey, you didn't count down. What? You were posing. Yeah, but I want to know exactly. It was the photo is being taken. Okay, sure. I rewound the camera and handed it back to her. She sidled up next to me and lowered her voice.

Hey, when Brady and Maribel leave, do you want to stay a little after? Oh, I don't know. My dad's renovating the kitchen, and he wants me to help him in the morning. It doesn't have to be long. Just for a little while. I should have said no, but she was pushing, and I felt bad saying no. Okay, just for a half hour. We can watch something down in the basement.

My parents can't hear a thing down there. Oh, yeah? What about your neighbor? He seemed pretty pissed off when we were watching B for Vandetta. He said the explosions woke him up, remember? He was fucking pounding on the glass door and yelling at us. She rolled her eyes. So we'll keep the volume down. Come on. It's just a half an hour.

You don't even have to watch anything. Okay. Before I could say more, she grabbed the camera and started towards the fire pit. I followed. When are you going to get those developed? You can go to night. There's still a one-hour photo in the CVS on Route 14. Oh, and we could pick up some snacks.

Wait, seriously? They still develop photos? Mm-hmm. Yeah, my dad uses them for, like, passport photos and other official stuff. So it was decided. The four of us piled into Brady's car and took off into the night. We spent the entire hour hanging out of the store picking out snacks. Then Casey went up to the counter, grabbed the paper envelope, and let us back out.

to the car. We piled inside and Brady turned on the lights. She flicked open the envelope and pulled out the photos. No fucking way. The first photo showed an older man standing on a beach, gray hair dripping wet, blue waves rolling behind him. But with his square jaw and tall build, he looked just like an aged up Brady. What the fuck? That's impossible. Not necessarily. The camera looked like a disposable camera, but it's possible someone put a cheap microchip in there, like a mini raspberry pie or something. Then it took our photos

and with the help of AI, age the month. Yeah, but how would the CVS develop them? Maybe it was straightforward. Maybe when he opened the camera to get the film, there was a USB stick there instead, loaded up with all of the images, so he just stuck it into the computer and printed them out. It's weird,

but Amazon is full of weird shit like this. I once saw a karaoke machine that used AI to auto tune everyone as they were singing in real time. We could go back inside and ask them. I want to see the rest of the photos first. Where do you get this camera again? A friend gave it to me.

And with that vague response, she flipped in the next photo. It was a family Christmas photo, several people standing in front of the tree, happy faces lit by multicolored lights. But my heart dropped when I saw the woman on the left. A woman, maybe 30, holding a little baby, with the same heart-shaped face, the same curly dark hair as Maribel. Oh, no. We all stared at the photo, silently, unsure what to say, saw it.

In the middle of a photo sitting on the couch was an old woman, a very old woman. With skin so wrinkled it looked like crepe paper. and hair so white. It looked like a tuft of cotton candy on her head. Wire-framed glasses were perched on her nose. I think that's you. Maribel snatched the photo out of Casey's hands. She whispered, studying it up close.

For all her big talk about this being some AI thing, she sure seemed to take it pretty seriously. As I watched Maribel, I couldn't help but smile. For a second, I felt something. A sense of awe as I looked at her face, lighting up with the joy of her family. I'd never looked at Maribel as anything other than a friend, but there was something tugging at my heartstrings now. Not even something I could put into words as a crush or attraction or lust, just something. A flicker of connection, of emotion, of...

Benny. I glanced at Casey, and then I looked down. Her hands was the photo she'd taken of me. The exact same photo of me tonight holding my baseball cap. Standing next to the tree. Not smiling. Staring straight ahead. Eyes red from the flash.

My first thought was the camera had malfunctioned. Whatever this was, AI or otherwise, had messed up and glitched on my picture. And it just spit out the photo as it was taken tonight. But as Casey, Brady, and Marabelle stared at me with horror, I realized. So I, it's saying the picture you took of me tonight is the last picture of me alive. I guess so. The silence pressed in. I shook my head and forced a laugh.

Come on. This is just some stupid prank camera. Like Maribel said, it's some AI thing. Maybe it'd even purposely skip some people just to scare them. It's fucking stupid. None of them were laughing. Okay, come on. Let's look at Casey's.

I plucked my photo from the stack. and froze. Casey was sitting on the floor of someone's basement. Her hands were tied to a metal support pole with thick rope. A strip of duct tape had been placed over her mouth. The left side of her head was matted with blood, and a thin trail dripped down the side of her face. Her blue eyes were wide with fear,

and looking straight at whoever was taking the photo. This is some sick fucking prank. Casey just sat there, frozen. Let's go home. Yeah, I forgot about all of this stuff. It's just a prank. It's a prank like Brady said. But Casey didn't move.

She just sat there. The photo's shaking in her hands. Her blue eyes wide with fear. What's wrong? She said. I recognize it. My dad and I went over there one time when he needed help with the fuse box

and I thought he was annoying. Bye. Casey K. Whose basement is this? My neighbors. Those represent the horns of Baffermet. Right over here, I can see on a tree here, there's a inverted cross. Now this is Sato.

Dispose of their victim by dismembering the body and cremating the remains, eliminating any possibilities. Thank you for your patronage. Hope you enjoyed your new relic as much as I've enjoyed passing along it. sorted 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, may be it. 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 038.

My friend has a camera that will show you your last photograph before you die. Written by Blair Daniels. Starring Trevor Shand as Benny, Alison Cossett, as Casey. Derek You as Brady. D. Quintero as Maribel. I listen to a true crime podcast about myself, written by Robert Mort, narrated by Addison Peacock, starring Ryan Lee as the voice. Conan Freeman as the interviewer, Trevor Shand as Gabe, 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.