The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings - Lot 048 : Mystic Mysteries//Simon Says

Episode Date: June 29, 2024

A radio station's final broadcast and another bizarre transmission from the depths of the dark web…Simon SaysWritten by Hailey HensonStarring Romy Evans as LenaRyan Lee as SimonAllison Cossitt as Mom Additional voices by Allison Cossitthttps://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/15v4yqr/simon_says_dont_click_this_theyre_watching/Mystic MysteriesWritten by whyusoemptyStarring Trevor Shand as the DJMark Redfield as The BroadcasterAdditional voices by Scarlett Shand and Allison Cossitthttps://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1dgov6z/i_played_an_old_tape_on_air_now_im_being_haunted/Featuring Stephen Knowles as The Antique DealerTheme music by The Newton BrothersAdditional music by CO.AG ([e-mail])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.

Well, just who I was looking for. Oh, I don't think this here shop could get enough of you. No way, no how. In fact, got it on good authority that this whole place wouldn't exist if it weren't for you being exactly right here at exactly this very moment. Take that as you may. Take that as you may. Now, where did I put that terrible thing?

Ah, yes. This. Seen one of these in a while? An audio cassette tape. This one's special, though. Only inkling of what may be honored is what is written on the label. August 17th, 1985. Not sure the significance of that date, but I bet you'll find out soon.

Let's pop it in the Walkman for a program I call Mystic. Mysteries. 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 Sub Blue 13, Muted Uziol, Herpsicans, Doug Wiley, The Helpful Demon, Biscotti Beard, Minyae, Shti Perez, and Dixon Ticonderoga. We are ever appreciative of your devotion to The Order. Go to The Obsidian Covenant.com to receive the saccharacter.

Now, where were we? Oh, yes. Welcome to the antiquarium of sinister happenings and odd goings on. Ape on air, radio station at Humb of Equipment, the soft glow of dials, and the lonely silence that stretches between broadcasts. My job, while often mundane, has its moments of indiams. intrigue, particularly when sifting through old recordings and forgotten archives. One evening, as I was rummaging through a dusty storage room, I stumbled upon a tape marked simply with a date, August 17, 1985.

Curiosity peaked. I dusted off the old cassette and slipped it into the player. Gratchy low hum filled the studio, for the voice of a long-forgotten host emerged, discussing a series of mysterious disappearances in a small town nearby. Intrigued by the chilling nature of the content, I decided to feature the tape on my late night show, Mystic Mysteries. As the clock struck midnight, I introduced the segment, setting the eerie tone for my listeners.

FM 101.177. Well, hello there, friend, thanks for joining me. Tonight, we delve into a mystery from the past, a chilling account of vanishings that left a town in terror. This is a broadcast from August 17, 1985 that was never aired, and the haunting voice of the past host echoed through the studio and out across the airwaves. Theon of Cold Hollow has been plagued by unexplained disappearances, run by one by one. residents vanish without a trace, leaving behind only whispers of strange sounds and fleeting shadows. Odd distortion resembled a mix of static and distant whispers. I adjusted the controls, but the strange sound persisted.

Paul started coming in from listeners and eerie visions that seem to emanate from their radios as collective imagination, perhaps influenced by the spooky content of the broadcast. I'd myself. A shadowy figure reflected in the studio window. There one moment, it began to set in as I realized that whatever was on the tape was more than just a recording. It was something alive, something malevolent. The host on the tape continued, recounting the disappearance of an entire family. The Johnsons were last seen entering their home, but by morning, they were gone.

Neighbors reported hearing strange chanting and seeing flickering lights in the woods behind their house. I felt a cold chill run down my spine as the lights in the studio began to flicker. Desperate, I tried to stop the tape, but the controls wouldn't respond. It was as if the equipment had a mind of its own. Determined to play the recording to the end. The whispering grew louder. more insistent, and the shadow in the window reappeared this time closer. Fighting, rising terror, I grabbed the microphone.

Hello, if anyone is listening. Turn off your radios now. There's something wrong with this broadcast. But it was too late. My voice was drowned out by a cacophony of whispers and static, and the tape rolled on. The town's priest believed the disappearances with the work of a vengeful spirit of desecrated schism. but the entity on the fear it created. The shadow moved through the studio.

A shapeless mass of darkness has seemed a pulse with malevolent energy. I could feel watching me. Drawing closer with each passing second. The temperature dropped. Fogging in the cold air. Then a desperate bid to end the broadcast. I yanked the tape from the player. But the whispers continued.

Now emanating from the very walls of the studio. The shadow loomed over me. A tangible sense of dread pressing down on my chest. It spoke in a voice that was a chorus of agony and despair. You have opened the door. Pay the price. My vision blurred, and I felt myself. Summoning all my strength, I managed to grab a metal chair and swung it at the window,

shattering the glass. To see for a brief moment. Dispers fading as I put distance between myself and the cursed tape. Radio station was shut down the next day. Officially, due to technical difficulties. but unleash something terrible, something that should have remained buried, knowledge that the spirit might still be out there,

waiting for its next victim, who finds the tape marked August 17th, 1985. I beg you, destroy it to the whispers. Nothing like a little dead air. Perhaps our spirited DJ might find a second life as a podcast host. Hope you don't have any plans. If you can stay a while longer, I've one more item in the stock room for you that completely slipped my mind. Tell you what?

Make yourself at home, and I'll be right back. The message. Talked about not being able to take refunds or exchanges. Sunglasses I bought at your store, I can't see during the day. I can only see at night now. I don't know what to do. I, you know, I'm a morning person. If somebody could give me a call back, that would be wonderful.

Thanks. Hope you're hungry. Believe it or not, this is a waffle maker. Makes those beautiful, thick Belgian ones. Hell, even French toast, too. Hash browns, if you're feeling adventurous. As it does indeed go, things at the antiquarium aren't always what they seem.

Let's cook up one more for you, called Simon Says. Simon says, Don't click this. They're watching. My cursor hovered over the link. I read those words again and contemplated the consequences for a mere five seconds before I smirked and then shrugged.

Simon doesn't tell me what to do. And whoever the heck is watching isn't going to find me anyways. I wasn't any stranger to the dark web, and I was highly protected. equipped with the Tor browser and encrypted hard drive and proxy that covered my tracks better than almost any other VPN. I felt like everything was sealed pretty airtight.

I knew the link was probably just some silly clickbait. Worked. I was instantly intrigued. The first thing that popped up on my screen was strange to say the least. A kaleidoscope of colors danced and weaved and exploded across the screen in a medley of patterns and shapes. I was completely mesmerized. A small rivulet of blood began to seep from my nose,

before my attention quickly shifted to the pool of crimson that was starting to sink into my sweatpants. I cursed under my breath, bolting to the bathroom and swiped as much of it as I could for my sweatpants. Luckily, these were old. Once the last of the blood was rinsed from my face, I settled back into my computer chair and crossed my arms. Relief settled over me when I noticed the dizzying colors

had subsided. I don't know what the heck that was about, but surely it was just a coincidence. The screen in front of me was now pitch black except for a white blinking cursor. I curiously watched as the words started to appear. Simon said not to click the link. They're watching you now. With a roll of my eyes, I moved my fingers over to the keyboard and began to type. Yeah?

Well, tell Simon he can kiss my... before I could even finish typing my sentence though I froze. My fingers crawled away from the keyboard. 0.239.24.166. Simon would like to play a game. If you win, he will let you go. What if you lose? Consequences. Nervous laugh bubbled up from within me

as I anxiously scratched the back of my neck. I'll pull my IP. I should have been nearly impossible. I took every precaution. My fingers inched towards the plug at the back of my computer. Whatever this was, it wasn't funny anymore. I didn't want to play any kind of game. Simon says you shouldn't do that.

My hand hovered in mid-air as I looked at the words blinking back at me. I thought, I'll play his stupid game. Fine. I'll play. Excellent. Simon's instructions, and you'll win. Follow any other instructions but his, and the consequences will... He was gonna have me play a stupid child's game?

I was. I shoved my anger aside. I'm staring at the screen for a second before typing. Sure. Simon says, cut off your right pinky finger. Startled at the command, I pushed my chair back from the computer. What the actual... Simon says, he will not ask again.

There was no way they even knew one of my family members. My parents lived in a whole other state, and even then, they lived out in the country. But then, I heard my phone ring. My voice wave rang when I heard her panic tone. She paused, murmuring something about there being too much blood. What? My fingers twitched as the phone fell from my grasp, my eyes widening as I stared back at the computer screen.

Something about it was very. wrong. In hell, this was a coincidence. Closely, and the game will be over. A few agonizing seconds passed before my next command came. Simon says, bring your Waffle Maker back here.

Plug it in and turn it on. Fear coursed through me. Crawling back into my lungs and holding my breath captive. A twisted game was this? I learned my lesson, though, so I scrambled to the kitchen and grab my Waffle Maker. If I learned one

thing. It was that Simon was not patient, and he definitely wasn't joking around. Sweat dripped down the side of my face as my fingers shakily plugged the waffle maker into the wall and turned it on. I knew that whatever command I was given next was going to be awful, and I was dreading the next message. Simon says. My heart thrummed in my chest wildly as I watched the typing bubbles. Sharp, ragged breaths flew past my lips as I waited. The anticipation was killing me. Bubbles stopped.

You're waffle maker and make sure it is hot. I nodded. Prying open the lid and cautiously waving my hand over the griddle before I type back. I waited for my last command, hoping that it wasn't going to ask me to do what I thought it was. was. Put your hand on the waffle maker and close the lid. With a shaky hand, I hesitated before, thinking about my dad. If I waited too long, maybe something would happen to my mom or my little sister. I felt like I was trapped. Either way, someone was going to get hurt. On that link, though,

I deserved to suffer the consequences. I couldn't forgive myself if something happened to my mom or my little sister next. Never experienced, exploded throughout my body. But I still had to close the lid. With all the strength that I had left, I closed the lid. My prior agony radiating into a tortuous, throbbing sensation, multiplying tenfold by the second. Strangled screams left my mouth before I yanked to my hand free from the griddle and cradled it against my chest. Tears. Stringed down my cheeks and vomit threatened to spill from my mouth the second I look down at the tattered flesh so that it had blistered and melted away and festering the smell of the cooked meat wafted up towards my nose and sent me spiraling as I wretched up everything in my

stomach more tears sprung from my eyes as agonized sobs overcame me every time I even glanced at my hand the pain became so unbearable that I felt light-haired and the last time I looked at it, a thick red ooze dripped from the flesh clinging to the back of my hand like a thick strawberry jam before I knew it. I passed out cold. I woke in a pile of vomit. It was crusted to my shirt and some of it still clung to the sides of my mouth. I didn't know how much time had passed. But the realization of what I did. and came toppling back into view the second I looked back down at my hand, and then it dawned on me. I'd been so wrapped up in doing the right thing that I'd forgotten the most important part about the commands, specifically, the last one. Blanking up at me on my computer screen were three

only large words. Thank you for your patronage. Hope you enjoyed your new reference. I 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, in 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 048, Simon Says, written by Haley Henson, starring Romie Evans as Lina, Ryan Lee as Simon, Allison Cossett as Mom. Additional voices by Allison Cossett. Mysteries, written by Why You So Empty, starring Trevor Shand as the DJ, Mark Redfield as the broadcaster.

Additional voices by Scarlett Shand and Allison Cossett, featuring Stephen Knowles as the antique dealer. Engineering production and sound design by Trevor Shand, theme music by the Newt Brothers. Additional music by Coag and Vivek Abyshech. The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings is created and curated by Trevor and Lauren chand. Follow us on Instagram and Twitter at Antiquarium Pod. Call the Antiquarium at 646-481-7-197.