The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings - Lot 047 : The 1% (Chapter 3)

Episode Date: June 22, 2024

The third part in a series of tales of Dr. Allen Allship and his…peculiar practice. Written by E.Z.MorganNarrated by Lauren ClareStarring Mark Redfield as Dr.Allen AllshipEverett Shand as JamesKyle Reyes as Allen Uschi Klee as MotherAllison Cossitt as number 1302Lauren Shand as Theresahttps://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/3t1df9/the_1_part_5_allen/https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/3tz5j2/the_1_part_6_theresa1302brittney/Featuring Stephen Knowles as The Antique DealerTheme music by The Newton BrothersAdditional music by CO.AG ([e-mail])Don’t Wake Up, Broken Piano, Dark Horror Music, The Forest, Malignant, Horror Piano Music, Road To Hell 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.

Merry meat, my friend. Any chance you've been practicing your commencement speech? For so it turns out, you've been bestowed with the honor of being our valedictorian. This just came in for you earlier today, as the seasons have turned, bringing along with it new beginnings and all of life's pageantries. A graduation cap. I must admit it's in a hell of a shape, caked in blood the whole nine yards. You are about to earn an honors degree in the 1%. Chapter 3.

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 Virgil Demetrius, Rachel Schreiber, Charles Lindsay, Jay Cho, Olivia Ryan, Mo Mo Moe Marcy, Irene Princess's Mommy, R.N. Jen, and Needson, Peter 14 and Lily 13. 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. The following is a message from the order. The story associated with your item, lot zero, four, seven, contains extreme content that may be especially triggering. Customer discretion is advised. Alan was a very good boy. He ate all his vegetables.

He brushed his teeth. He never talked back. Alan did not complain that mother always dressed him in the same clothes, even though the other kids made fun of him. him. He never got dirty, never begged for extra dessert and never stayed up late. He did his homework. Alan liked homework, especially biology. Alan didn't like very manly things. He didn't like his father. He didn't like his brother. He didn't like the other kids. He didn't like the tight black shoes he wore every day, but he never complained. He hardly ever talked at all, unless spoken to. Even then, he tried to keep his answers as short as possible. The other kids

gave him cruel nicknames. He had no friends. Even when the kids would beat him up, Alan would just walk away, clean himself up, and stay silent. There was no point in yelling. He disliked loud noises anyway. The other kids seemed to be even more enraged by his lack of emotion. They did worse and worse things to him, including stripping him naked and forcing him to walk for a school with nothing to cover his small body. They laughed and laughed.

Alan never begged or cried. He just walked to the principal and calmly asked for a set of clothing, since he had misplaced his own. Mother never knew of his childhood torture. She doted on him lovingly. She admired his self-control. Even as a baby, he rarely cried. His birth was so easy. She expected her second child to be simple as well.

But her younger son was. the exact opposite. He wailed endlessly. He was needy and loud. He was constantly making messes, but Alan, Alan was perfect. When Alan was to graduate high school, mother couldn't help but cry. He was planning to attend medical school. His father had pushed him to become a surgeon just like him. Alan agreed emotionally. But mother couldn't control her own emotional. and tears flowed silently down her cheeks. You're embarrassing yourself. Her husband said coldly.

Alan was glad to be done with high school. By this time, the other kids mostly left him alone. His lack of response to their cruelty became boring. They focused on weaker targets, like his younger brother. But Alan didn't like his brother and didn't care what they did to him. even when his brother was hospitalized for internal bleeding, he didn't care. Even when it was revealed that the bullies had forced a metal baseball bat in his little brother's rectum, he didn't even blink.

He had more important things to think about. Medical school would be easy. Alan had always been good at school. He received A's in all his classes except art. He didn't understand art. He didn't see the point of it. For his projects, he would draw intricate diagrams of the insides of animals. His teacher told him to add some creativity to his work.

So Alan began to improve the animals. He would make their teeth longer or their claws sharper. He would try and make them perfect. But his teacher did not think this was creative enough. He dropped the class. But otherwise, Alan was an ideal student. He never talked in class or distracted the other students. He completed all his work on time, and it was flawless.

He never bothered the teacher. His teachers would miss him. He would not miss them. He did not like them. He did not like many things, but he did like his mother. She was a plump woman with curly brown hair. She had a small twinge of a German accent. His father had met her online, although Alan suspected she was a male-ordered bride.

After all, she couldn't have been more than 16 when she had Alan. Her accents used to be very thick, but Alan's father forced her to learn to speak properly. His father did not want her to stand out, but Alan rather liked the way her words were a bit off due to the lingering drips of her accent. When he was a child, she would sing to him and sing to him. German. She had to sing quietly so his father couldn't hear. He still knew the words to those German songs. Alan hated being touched. But for some reason, he didn't mind it when mother would dress or bathe him. He had become accustomed to her daily sponge baths. They didn't speak while he was in the tub, but when her hand would accidentally brush his skin, he felt a sense of

relief. It was similar to the feeling of being breastfed. He was lucky enough to have been breastfed far past the age of nine. It was the day of Alan's graduation ceremony. He was class valeditorian. His school asked him to write a speech. He did as he was told, knowing full well he would be booed by the other kids. The speech was short. It thanked his family and his school. It talked about the future. Alan was learning to pretend he had emotions. As she always did, Mother dressed him. She pulled on his boxes, zipped up his slacks. She buttoned his white dress shirt.

She smiled at him kindly. You look so handsome. Alan's younger brother had thrown something against the wall again. He stood facing them. A deep frown etched into his face. I'm not going! He said sternly. Mother did not look away from Alan.

Fine. No one came. Yes, if you go. His brother picked up the lamp and threw it on the floor. I will break everything in this house if you make me go. Mother gave him a frustrated glance. Like I said, no one cares. Alan cleared his throat but said nothing.

Outbursts like this were common. His younger brother had been labelled as having behavioral issues. To Alan, this meant he was just weak and stupid. He was always demanding attention, especially for Mother. But Mother never liked her. second son. He was too messy and loud. She never needed to like him. Not when she had Alan. His younger brother was breathing heavily. He cocked his head. Why don't you love me, Mommy? Mother cringed. I told you not to call me that. You have to call me Olga. But Alan calls you

mommy. He calls me mother, and that is what I want him to call me. You must call me Olga. She shook her head. You are not Ellen. The younger son took a step closer. You'll never let me forget that. Mother and Alan were still close, looking down at the pathetic boy. He was 16 now, almost an adult. He shouldn't know how to behave yet. He still acted like a child.

Alan made a tiny tisk sound with his tongue. Shut up. His younger brother started to shout. Shut up, shut up, shut up! He grabbed the closest thing to him, which was Alan's graduation. He threw it forcefully. There was a moment of quiet before Mother started screaming. Alan realized that the sharp point of his cap had lodged itself squaringly in Mother's eye.

Alan did not know what to do. Mother fell to the ground and ripped the cap from her eye. Her eyeball came with it, still attached to her skull by a small red line. She was screaming. Alan didn't like loud noises, but he knelt down with her. his younger brother started laughing. Apple of mommy's eye. He taunted.

He reached into his jeans, pulled out a Swiss army knife. Alan looked at him. He pleaded, but his brother was already on top of mother. Stabbing her again and again with the tiny blade. It was as if he had just snapped. She tried to fend him off. She was bleeding so much. Alan pushed his brother off of her finally, holding Mother close to him.

What did you do? He tried to yell, but it was as if his voice wouldn't let him. Then his father appeared in the door. Alan Alain was shipped the second to look to the scene. Without saying anything, he saw his sons on the ground and his wife reeling in pain. He then spread his lips into a thin smile. The first I've a boy had ever seen. James, James did.

We have to call the hospital. She's dying. James, the younger son. looked to his father. He expected to see hatred or anger, but all he saw is something he had been searching for since birth, pride. I see I've been paying attention to the wrong son. He strolled over to James and stood him up. He was covered in blood. I am impressed, Alan. I'm Alan. Alan said, quizzically, he still held his dying mother in his arms. No, this is Alan. He has been been all along. His father wiped a bit of blood away from James's face, from Alan's face.

Then, who am I? The older son did not understand the emotions pulling in him. He just knew his mother was dead, and he was clutching a corpse. You, a 995. His father patted Alan on the back. You have a lot of work ahead of us, but I have a feeling you're going to do as a family name, proud. How's that for a plot twist, eh? A family that slays together, stays together. Isn't that the saying? I have a feeling things are about to get much, much worse for the old Alship cottage industry of cosmetic perfection. You should see their Etsy shop. Listen, I have to step out to make a quick call to a client while it's still on my mind. Sit tight and I'll be back in a jiff.

Leave a message. Please do so with the town and have a good... Hey, I'm so sorry, I just missed you. I just wanted to let you know that I've really been enjoying that antique telescope that I bought the other day. You were right. I'm seeing things with this that I've never been able to see with any other telescope. As a matter of fact, I pointed at the moon the other.

day, and I thought something that I didn't think was possible. I saw the dark side of the moon with the telescope, strange looking, and not at all what you'd expect. But ever since, the moon's been described this, but it's... Thanks for your patience. My memory ain't what it used to be, so I grab what I can out of the ether, whether or not an opportune time should be in its midst. Let's not waste another second and get on back to the shenanigans of our favorite family. Shall we? The three women lay outstretched on the scratchy white rug of the bedroom.

They stare up into the nothingness that is the smooth white ceiling. The room is stuffy and smells faintly of disinfectant. There are no sounds except the traffic outside. Teresa likes the quiet. She rarely got it while she was bringing up her daughter. Number 1302 does not notice the quiet. She can only notice the sting of pain every breath brings. One of her lungs has been lost in one of her many surgeries.

Brittany fills the quiet with a non-stop stream of thoughts. She goes over her childhood. She remembers the pink balloon she got for her sixth birthday. The balloon came free from her wrist and fled to the top of the living room. It lived there for almost a year before it fell, deflated to the ground. She remembers the husk of a balloon floating sadly over the floor. She remembers crying when it finally hit the ground. Teresa didn't like the other two women.

They make her life more difficult. She would rather focus on dinner than deal with their constant distractions. Number 13.02 doesn't like or dislike anything. She has no ability for emotion anymore. Although she kept most of her brain functioning, she's incapable of forming an opinion. Brittany likes the other women. She never really had female friends in her life. She's grown so lonely over the years.

She's barely ever allowed out. She has had to develop a relationship with herself in order to develop. cope. She talks to herself all the time, in her head, of course. She talks about the boy she dated in high school. She remembers how they would pick out her outfits and never apologize if they were too rough in bed. They were sweet to her sometimes, because she was pretty, pretty Britney, prom queen, until Greg. All the women felt a cold shiver. It's all Greg's fault. He is to blame for everything bad that has happened. Even number 1302, who only speaks when ordered to,

knows how terrible Greg is. Greg had the softest hair. That's what first attracted Brittany to him. His sandy blonde hair lay delicately along his neck. She was always reaching to touch it, but he didn't like that. So she would stay up at night watching him sleep, following the individual hairs as they rose and fell with each breath.

She loved him so much. Teresa sits up, that others do as well. Teresa does not want to think about the past. She has things to do. She has chores she has to finish before her daughter comes home. Teresa likes to think about the future. She imagines having more children and being given more freedoms. What a rush it would be to have friends like other women do, but Brittany always comes back.

She thinks about the way the mould started growing on the refrigerator in the apartment Greg bought her. It started small, just a blip of green on an otherwise spotless canvas. But in time it seemed to grow wings. He crawled along the drawers and changed the colours for contents inside. It smelled so strong she never went in the kitchen. She would lie completely on Greg's deliveries for her food. Greg liked to give her food. In fact, it's all they ever did.

He explained that he was making her more beautiful. The more food she ate, the more beautiful she would be. She quickly ballooned from 130 pounds to a neat 300. She outgrew all her clothing, so she would sit in her home completely naked. She had nothing to do but watch TV and wait for Greg to come. And every day, it seemed as if she grew wider. Number 1302 does not have many memories.

She was created 18 years ago. She remembers a lot of bright lights and pain. She remembers watching her skin peel away. She remembers the feeling of fat being scooped from her stomach on her. to a metal tray. She remembers the drill making timely holes into her skull, but these memories seem far away, as if it happened to someone else. Teresa is done with this. She stands. The other women do as well. Brittany remembers a time when she stopped being able to stand. It was somewhere around 400 pounds. The weight from her body made her bones rattle.

It hurts too much to move. Greg, of course, loved her. Overlapping flesh. He reveled in it. He made love to her as though the sex would keep her fat. He visited her every day. He showered her with compliments and fried foods. Brittany enjoyed the attention.

Teresa would have slapped Britney if she could. She would do a lot of violent things. She fantasized about murder almost daily. It ranged from crashing her minivan into a crowded market to slitting her daughter's throat. She never acted on these impulses. She's very good at maintaining control over herself. Number 1302 is even better at it. She can stand in a corner for days, if ordered to.

She can experience an indescribable amount of pain without making a sound. Brittany has no self-control. When her body became too big, for her, queen-sized bed, Greg dragged her onto the floor. He said there were better camera angles there anyway. He filmed her daily for adult websites. He called her Peggy the Pig. She had fans from across the world. Greg made millions. Britney did anything he told her to. She used whatever objects, he asked, and was sleep with whatever strangers Greg invited into her apartment. She obeyed him completely.

day he brought in an actual pig and ordered her to have sex with it. Teresa wants to slam her fists against her own head again and again. She wants to fill the imprint of her wedding ring down to the skull. Number 1302 reminds her silently of what her husband would do if she hurt herself. Teresa calms down. Brittany reaches a hand up and fills the blonde hair that now falls delicately along her own neck, the way Greg's hair did. She feels the stitches hidden behind her. her ears. Number 1302 acknowledges the sharp pain that comes from moving her fingers. Teresa wishes she could be alone. Britney wishes she'd killed Greg the day she met him, before the pig incident, before he got angry and threatened to sell her, before she knew that

even in America in the 21st century, a woman could be sold to a man for the right price. Britney was supposed to have died out long before Teresa arrived. Number 1302 was supposed to have killed her, but Brittany was filled with so much hate that she refused to be pushed out. So now, all three women occupy a body that has been bent, broken, bled and reborn. They were slim now and weighed even less than Brittany had before Greg. Their makeup was always perfectly done. they did as they were told.

Even Brittany wasn't stupid enough to speak out loud. The three women hear a whistle come from downstairs. Number 1302 walks to the door, ignoring the searing pain of her bones rubbing together. She stands at the top of the steps, looking down to see her husband. Does the doctor need anything? Elena will be home soon, number one three, zero two.

need Teresa. Teresa smiles. Yes, Helen. Alan looks at her emotionally. Tonight you will be making meatloaf. You will tell Elena that you spent the day with your friends. You will ask her about school. After dinner, you will lie with me and try again to conceive a son.

I am growing impatient. Alan hangs his coat up as his wife descends the stairs. I've given you 30 abortions, Teresa. If your uterus gives out, I will be forced to use a different patient as my wife. And you know I do not tolerate failure. Teresa smiles sweetly. Number 302 stares dormant out of their shared eyes. Brittany fills the hate bubbling up in her.

She tries to focus on that balloon from her sixth birthday, drifting closer to its death. 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, Lod 047, the 1% Chapter 3. Written by E.Z Morgan, narrated by Lauren Claire, starring Mark R. Redfield as Dr. Allen Allship. Everett Shand as James. Kyle Reyes as Alan. Ushie Klee as mother. Alison Kossett as number 1302.

Lauren Shand as Teresa. 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 Sinister Havishek. 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.