The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings - Lot 043 : This Morning I Found A Notecard Taped To My Steering Wheel // Out Of Bed // Night Time Hero

Episode Date: May 16, 2024

Trouble comes in threes….This Morning I Found A Notecard Taped To My Steering Wheel, I Wish I Had Thrown It AwayWritten by The_Unamed_OneNarrated by Trevor ShandStarring Allison Cossitt as The NoteDee Quintero as The GirlfriendMark Redfield as Butchhttps://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/16le0k2/this_morning_i_found_a_notecard_taped_to_my/Out Of BedWritten by JohnLawrence237Narrated by Dee Quinterohttps://www.reddit.com/r/shortscarystories/comments/1ccdw9c/out_of_bed/Night Time Hero Written by Trammel MayNarrated by Conan Freemanhttps://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/13oca0/night_time_hero/Featuring Stephen Knowles as The Antique DealerTheme music by The Newton BrothersAdditional music byCO.AG. ([e-mail])Dark Horror Theme and Horror Theme by Vivek AbhishekSUBSCRIBE us on YOUTUBE: https://bit.ly/3qumnPHFollow on Facebook : https://bit.ly/33RWRtPFollow on Instagram : https://bit.ly/2ImU2JV Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Well, now there you are. I just knew you were going to stop by today. It was written on this note card that must have come in with a new shipment I just got in. Found it lying on the floor in the back room. Oddly enough, when I turned it over to get a better look, in black ink woven through the most fanciful calligraphy I have ever seen, clear as day, it's said to make sure to hang it right to you the very moment you walked in. Never one to get in the way of the tawdry affairs of the order.

Let's just call this a job well done. Oh, I almost forgot. Here's a pin for you to jot this one down. This morning, I found a note card taped to my steering wheel. 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 Michael Ledger, Terodactor 3,000, Mark Davies, Kim K, Sarah, Preston-C-R, Zemilia, Screamdiving, and Alyssa Morgan. 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. I found a note card taped to my steering wheel.

When I reached my car this morning in the apartment, complex parking lot. I noticed a white 3 by 5 inch note card taped to my steering wheel. I was confused how it got there since I was totally OCD about locking my car at all times. I unlocked the car and sat in the driver's seat to better read the note. Cursive writing, it read. Take an alternative route to work this morning. I stared at the note card for a good minute, trying to process how in the hell it would have gotten there. After letting my thoughts run wild, I tossed the note card into the passenger seat.

I started driving my usual route to work, thinking this was some kind of joke. As I waited at the red light to turn onto the highway, to back up the note card and stared at the message again. In a manner aimed more towards speaking to myself, I blurted the words out. Why the hell would I take a different route to work that would make an almost a 45-minute fucking drive? Realizing I was talking to a note card, I looked at myself in my rearview mirror and laughed. The note card slipped out of my hand and fell on a reverse side onto my lap. Another note was written on the backside. There will be a shooting at the red light after you get off the highway exit ram.

You will be shot if you take that route. I felt a sickening knot in my stomach after reading. I flinched once I heard the car honk behind me, irritated by my distraction from the light, which turned green. I stepped on the gas and you turned away from the highway exit, almost causing a wreck as I did so. I took the long way to work and arrived about 20 minutes late. My boss, Butch, called me to his office the second I walked through the front door. I still had the note card in my hand and quickly folded it in half, shoving it into my backpom. Why the hell were you late? I know, I'm so sorry. I just had to take the back roads. I had a rough morning to forever to get in here.

Son, you're full of nothing but excuses. This is why. I'm passing you up for promotion. I can't have a senior manager working under me that can't take responsibility for the little things he screws up. You have got to be kidding me. I have the highest performance numbers of any other manager here in this building. You don't have anyone else who's brought the company as much money as me. Results driven, yes, you are. But dependable?

After this morning's late instance, I just don't see you as a fit for a senior manager. I need someone who is consistent. You can leave the office now. This conversation is over. I stormed out of the office and walked back to my car so I could just be alone and cool myself down. Still pissed off. I grabbed the folded note card for my back pocket. Fucking magic note card. Does Butch just not like me or something? Why would he pass me up, knowing I'm the best performer? This was the only time I've ever been fucking late. I opened the folded note card. My anger quickly turned to shock.

Once I saw a longer message this time, the message was written in the same cursive writing. Butch passed you up for promotion because he is having an affair with one of your co-workers. He was looking for a reason to downplay your hard work. He will announce her promotion tomorrow morning. The anger came back into my flushed red cheeks after reading. For a minute, I seemingly forgot about the metaphysical anomaly I was experiencing with a magic note card that was answering all my questions. Instead, my anchor got the best of me,

filling me with thoughts of going back into that office and beating Butch over the head with whatever I could find. Remembering that the note card answered my question this morning, I yelled out loud, how could Butch just get away with that? And if I had any shot of promotion in that fucking company, I flipped the note card over and saw the answer to... We'll commit suicide in two weeks. Before that, he will take the life of your co-worker he is sleeping with.

She gave him HIV. There will be two open positions as a result, both of which you will be able to apply to. I sat in silence, reading the note over and over, feeling disturbed and uneasy. I wasn't supposed to know this. It felt pervasive and wrong to have access to this kind of information. I decided I needed to just go home and drove off, folding the note card and putting it back. I noticed police cars as I turned into the ramp leading to the highway. Several cars were littered with bullet holes.

I put myself a glass of whiskey, hoping the alcohol would somehow unlock a logical algorithm in my brain to help me understand what just happened today. The bottle of whiskey to my office room. Where I logged into my computer and started Googling anything related to a note card, suddenly appearing to anyone. I found nothing but links to fictional books, of course, still sitting at my computer. I pulled out the note card and folded it in half again.

I asked it, who put the note card on my steering wheel? I took a long sip of my whiskey, before I opened it again and read the words that followed. It likes to go by the name, Truth. The words on the letter said. I asked the note card. Is Truth a person? Before flipping it around to the other side.

Truth is not a person. What exactly does Truth look like? I asked the card, turning it around immediately to the other side. Truth has six legs and four arms. It has no eyes, eight ears, and 15 mouths covering its body. With sharp teeth. My eyes went wide As I read the description

In fancy black curse of writing Fear tickled my senses Causing the hairs on my neck to stand up I asked the card The two dreaded thoughts on my mind What does it want for me? Why did it give me this note card? I said out loud

And slowly turned the note card over To read the backside It wants you to ask it that question yourself It is stern Right behind you. After reading, but I dared not move. I just sat, staring straight ahead into my computer. I want to see this ugly truth standing.

A few moments later, I heard somebody opening my front door. I heard my girlfriend shout from the kitchen. I forgot I had given her a key to my apartment. Don't come back here. Please, just please. I shouted, hoping she would save herself from the sight of this grotesque thing behind me. I heard my girlfriend's footsteps getting louder and louder coming towards the office room. What the hell has gone into you? What are you?

It's been three hours since I heard her voice. I'm still sitting at the computer not daring to look behind me. I don't know if my girlfriend is still standing at the doorway, or if that thing did something with her. I have about half a bottle of whiskey left. I'm posting this hoping anyone can give me an idea of what the hell will happen when I turn around. I decided as soon as the whiskey runs out. I'll finally do it.

The description alone from the note card has me scared shitless to face it. But eventually, I'll have no choice but to face the ugly truth. The devil's definition of himself is, I am when not. He is most powerful when he is denied. Satan said... Truth hurts, don't it. They really are a cute couple. I have a feeling they'll be together forever.

You know what? Now that I'm thinking about it, I think we'll be sticking around a while too. Something else came in for you. Make yourself at home while I go grab it. Leave a message. Please do so with the tone and have a great... I bought a tape recorder from you guys,

and it's been acting strange. I mean, I'm using it for my lectures and, you know, make little side comments. But when I made a side comment about getting five bucks in my bank account, I got it. And I kind of tested it. And it's kind of been doing great. But then I did something I don't think I should have said. I said something I can't, I couldn't think back. And I think I might have made someone disappear.

Like, they're gone from history, from like, no one even knows. I'm making this recording because I accidentally said something about myself and I'm afraid it's going to come true. So if you hear this, thank you dearly for your patience, friend. This one's a bit on the heavy side. This is an ornate hand-carved cedar hope chest that was left behind in the bedroom of a vacant house. When it was dropped off, they asked to tell the new owner, that'd be you. to take care not to open it under any circumstances. This one's called Out of Bed.

When I was very young, much younger than today, my mother tucked me in at night, and every night she'd say, say your prayers, turn off the light, and rest your weary head. And just before she'd leave, she'd add, just don't get out of bed. Now it's been many years since I last slept within those walls. But hazy, though it may be now, there's something I recall.

Time for sleep was close at hand. And though I tried to fight, my mother tucked me into bed and gently said, But shortly after she had left, I felt a nagging thought. I ventured from my cozy bed. For what? I've now forgot the house became at night. It as a mouse. I never saw before or since.

Such a thing. What happened next? My mother said. Could not have really been. And even after all these years, figure in the dark, hunched over Mother's bed, breathing deep and sighing as a cradled Mother's head. I rubbed my eyes and squinted hard, though I could hardly see. I swear its head had swiveled round and looked. We stood there inside a trance.

Something so awful, so strange. In its glance, a mother's face once more, laying in her bed. Or was it that I saw her face? Figures head. A hand began to slowly stretch across the yawning black. And something told me that I must, or mustn't? My back was halfway turned when there was. emerged a curious sound.

I lost my breath and felt my body sink into the ground. No for sure. The sounds I heard that figure make, I'd never. I don't know what the thing did next, but I remember what it said. With crooked parts of mother's voice, quickly as it started, just as quickly would it end.

I found myself alone in bed. No trace of mothers for years. Since then, my mother is long dead. She calls my name at night. I won't get out of bed. Here I thought I was cranky for never getting enough sleep. Let's stay awake for one more. You can sleep when you're dead.

Here, and take us sleep. found this old chair at a yard sale. Eastlake design, red velvet cushion, been in the family for generations. I'll send you off to Dreamland with Nighttime Hero. I have been getting a lot of people asking me what my Reddit username Nighttime Hero means. I have been reluctant to share the story. It is painful and heartbreaking for me to think about it. However, I really like the Reddit community, so...

I decided that I will tell it after all. When I was young, around four, I guess. I would often have bad dreams and wake up crying. My dad would come into the room and pick me up and rock me to sleep. He called me as lamb chop because I sweat really easily, and apparently my sweating child body smelled like meat. He would hold me in his arms while softly singing a little ditty he made up about lamb chops. He would tell me,

Everything was okay, kissed me on the forehead, and put me back in bed. He was always there for me. One time, I was around the same age. It's hard to remember exactly when things happen when you are that young. We went to a funeral for a family member or close friend. I didn't really understand what was going on as I was just a small child. My mom was weeping while looking up to the front. and my dad stood next to me holding my hand, looking really stern.

I asked him what was going on and he looked down at me and smiled. Don't worry about it, Lampchop. And he squeezed my hand and directed his attention back to the front. This memory sticks out of my mind because he was always there to protect me, even if it was from things I couldn't understand. He worked a lot. And I mean a lot. I only really saw him at night.

Every morning I would wake up and hope he was still home, and I would ask mom, where's daddy? Your father left, she would reply. She had sadness in her tone. She obviously was upset over the fact that he worked so much that he couldn't even be around for breakfast. It wasn't really that sad to me because my dad was the best dad anyone. could have. I feel like it was almost every night after he'd come home from work. I was scared of ghosts. And he would come in and say, don't worry, lamp shop. I'll stay here all night and make sure no ghosts

get to you. I told him he was like a superhero. But he said, I may be a hero, but only at night time. During the day, you need to be strong and be your own hero, Lampchop. Your mother and myself can't always be there for you, but that's okay because you are my son. You can be a hero too. I didn't really know what he was talking about, but I was glad he was there. I was never afraid when he was in my room. He would sit all night in a chair by my bed. Sometimes I would look at him and he would be staring out my window into the beautiful night sky, winking back at him through the window.

I hated the fact that he worked so much. That year, I was really excited for Father Sunday at school. Everyone's dads would come in and tell the class about their jobs. Little did they know, this was actually some sort of demented game for children to compare dads and figure out whose is better. My dad could beat up your dad, one would say. Oh, yeah? Well, my dad makes more money than your dad, and could hire a wrestler to beat up yours.

I felt so left out. I would rather be the kid with the dad that could be beaten up by all the others instead of what I was. The kid with no dad. Why didn't he show up? He knew how important it was to me. I told him that I was being picked on and how all the kids would say,

Where's your dad? You don't have one. And they would point and laugh. He felt bad and told me he was sorry, but he couldn't get away from work. My anger vanished when I saw the look on his face. He truly was sorry. He was my dad, the best dad in the world, and suddenly showing him off, didn't mean so much. The ridiculing, however, just got worse.

One kid was poking at me and said, My mom says you don't have a dad. I do have a dad. I yelled as I punched the kid in the nose. I was sent to the office for this, of course. It didn't matter if that kid deserved it. Why would he even say something like that? I told the principal what happened, and she looked confused.

She told me I should talk to my mom about what happened, and I did. When I got home, I explained the whole day to her. I was confused. I told her, I don't know why they're saying these things to me. Daddy told me I should always stand up for myself. I punched him because he said bad things about Daddy. My mom put her hand over her mouth and her eyes turned to glass. What do you mean, Daddy told you?

I was confused. Daddy tells me, baby, Daddy has left us. I just don't know how to tell you. baby. But your daddy passed away. That's why he didn't go to your show and tell. That's why he's never home. She began to cry. She'd been trying to protect me from the pain of losing my father. I didn't understand though, because I saw him every night.

Mommy, that's not true. Dad is here. Every night. He protects me from ghosts and sits up with me all night. She was crying and looked confused. I didn't know if she thought I was crazy or thought I was lying, but whatever it was that I said, greatly upset her. My mom eventually found her composure and straightened up. She told me I had to grow up and be a big boy. She said that daddy was gone and was never coming back.

I was so confused, so I decided to ask my dad about. about it that night. Daddy? Are you dead? Why do you ask that lamp shop? He asked with a quizzical expression. Well, I replied. Kids at school say I don't have a dad. And mommy said you passed away. Son, I am your father and nothing will change that. You mean everything to me and I wouldn't let something as simple as being alive, change that. Do you understand? Didn't understand. But I told him I did anyways. Your mommy can't see me, but you can, lampchop. Tell your mommy I love her, and I'm watching over her. He kissed me on the forehead and said good night. As I grew older, my father faded and faded until I never saw him again. I haven't seen him in years, in fact.

I wondered if I was crazy and it was just my mind trying to cope with not having a father figure around until I was mature enough to accept the fact that he was gone. I missed him so much and not a day goes by that I don't think about him. My wife and I have a boy now. He's five years old in a few days. He is the most important thing in my life right now. My wife and I treasure every moment with him. I want to always be there for my son and give him the father figure I thought.

I had, but only for real. I have breakfast with him every morning, and I can't wait to go to his show and tell. One morning, my son came up to me and said, Why don't we ever let Grandpa have breakfast with us? Grandpa lives far away, thinking of my wife's father. He can't come to breakfast. My son replied, no, your daddy, Grandpa. He's so funny.

He giggled gently. He calls me Lamb Chop Jr. I couldn't believe my ears and my eyes filled with water. What did you just say? Grandpa calls me Lambchop Jr. He said that he's sad that you don't see him anymore. But he watches over you every night. He said he would watch over me too.

He said he would be my hero, but only at nighttime. 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 043, Nighttime Hero,

written by Trammell May, narrated by Conan Freeman, Out of Bed, written by John Lawrence 237, narrated by De Quintero. This morning I found a note card taped my steering wheel, written by the unnamed one, narrated by Trevor Shand, starring Alison Cossett as the note, De Quintero as the girlfriend,

Mark Redfield as Butch, 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 and Vivek Abyshech, the Antiquarium of Sinai, Mr. 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.