The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings - Lot 050 : My Gated Community Has One Rule...No Laughing After Dark

Episode Date: July 14, 2024

The Braverow home owners association is a real nightmare….My Gated Community Has One Rule..No Laughing After DarkWritten by Domenic EagleStarring Romy Evans as RowanTrevor Shand as OwenAllison Cossitt as JoanneLorraine Thompson as Irenehttps://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/1dsiryh/my_gated_community_has_one_rule_no_laughing_after/Follow Black Volumes on Youtube : https://www.youtube.com/@blackvolumesFeaturing Stephen Knowles as The Antique DealerTheme music by The Newton BrothersAdditional music by CO.AG ([e-mail])Immaculate 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.

D equals L. Oh, there you are, friend. I've been expecting you. Well, what are you waiting for? Come on in. Not less than an hour ago, a real estate agent dropped this by for you. It's from a community that goes by the name of Brave Row. She said they were offering luxury homes out there for next to nothing.

And they wanted you to stop on by and check out their own. open house. It's a new property that just became available. Must warn you, though, they do have a hell of an HOA. This leaflet breaks down there, rather bizarre, CC&Rs. Here's a little housewarming gift I call. My gated community has one rule. No laughing after dark. Before we begin, I want to point out some of the customers whose names have been etcheted. 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 K-Tatos, drunk penguin, Jessica B, Bonster, Scarlet, Christy Hughes, Wouter Van Wick,

Existentially Exhausted Bean, and... 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.

My gated community has one rule. Then I moved into a gated community called Braverow. You know the type. One of those cut-out paradises. With an aesthetic so vivid in photos yet anemic in reality. After living there for two days, we moved to a hotel. And this will be our home for the foreseeable future. Just need to sell that property and find a new one.

That's the only requirement. Furious nature of that place only became apparent once the street's rules had been broken. Honey! What? My wife replied from the other room. You gotta get in here to see this shit. Rowan strolled into the lobby with a beam on her face, still intoxicated by her new home. She rubbed a loving hand down my back, tracing the curvature of my spine.

What's got you smirking, Owen? Look at this thing. Proudly displaying the leaflet that I'd found on the doormat. Rowan leaned forwards and read it alongside me. Dear Owen and Rowan, this is Irene from the Brave Row HOA. Welcome to Day 1 of your new life in this safe and vibrant community. You've already met Gordon, our resident security guard, so you'll know safety is of the utmost importance to us.

And the vibrancy of this community is apparent, but it extends beyond the superb landscaping and house-proud homeowners. It is the people who make this street vibrant. Parties and events, such as our regular garden gatherings and film nights, make this truly a place to call home. However, I think it prudent to inform you of one particular rule that, without exception, will be enforced.

There must be no laughing after dark. This is not a matter of noise that we understand that all the world. Residents will want to watch TV or listen to music or simply talk. Sound is an unavoidable part of life. But laughter between sunset and sunrise is strictly prohibited in Braverro. What constitutes as after dark? There's no specific time at which laughter must cease. After all, the sun sets around 4 o'clock in the winter and nearly 10 o'clock at the height of summer.

Moreover, there is a window of murkiness between day and night. I understand this may confuse you. You might be wondering when to keep quiet. If you want my advice, Mr. and Mrs. Neville, I would suggest that you not risk laughing once the day's light starts to fade. Once the sun begins to creep close to the horizon, for this is not a rule enforced in a black and white manner. It's not even a rule enforced by the HOA. And aside from that, there is really nothing to bear in mind. I do not run an oppressive association.

You've already read and signed the contract, and you know how we operate. Grow your hedges as tall as you wish. Paint your front door, a garish color. Walk the streets after midnight, if that pleases you. Just do not laugh after. Dark. I told you I didn't want to live with rich people. They're unhinged. No laughing after dark. What sort of dystopian nonsense is? I hate moving. There is always something the estate agent fails to mention. Some catch with every too good to be true property. Fucking unbelievable. Sure. There was the broken dishwasher in the first place. The busted taps. In the second place, issues that agents and homilers should have mentioned.

But I thought we were past all that, Owen. I thought buying a house at such a sickening price meant that we'd be able to forego such absurd problems. And this is worse than any of the issues in our old houses because we won't even be able to fix the problem. Of course we will. We shall become joyless husks, my dear wife. Oh, really?

For there is no laughter in Braverow. No, this is a place of principles, of sincerity, I say. Go forth my way and should prepare me sandwich in the kitchen. My God, what is happening? Actually, I don't know why I was worrying. There's no chance of laughing with you around. I could tell by the look on her lips that Rowan wanted to chortle.

So did I. But in spite of our sarcastic responses to the letter, my wife and I were still drawn to the setting sun beyond the window. And I knew we were thinking the same thing. It would be moronic not to follow the rule for the first night, at least. I sensed that Rowan felt just as uneasy as me. felt as if this were more than HOA authoritarianism. Given how laxed they seemed on all other fronts, the one rule was unsettling.

Why laughter? Why that sound above all others? The sound of joy itself. I was too tired to unpack the baffling contents of the letter, so I decided I would discuss it with the head of the HOA in the morning. I rang as soon as I woke up. from you. So, how was your first night in Brave Row? Hey, Irene. It was good. Irene, I'm calling you about the welcome letter. Oh, I see. Did everything make sense? Well, yes and no.

It was relatively straightforward, but there wasn't much to digest, but there was one thing that kind of befuddled the two of us. Oh, befuddled to. It's the rule about laughter. The rule about the laughter. Yes. No. No. laughter after dark. I did explain how to interpret that. There is no exact, you know, cut off point. It's not about that, Irene. It's about the nature of the restriction itself.

Does it not seem a little totalitarian to you? Sorry, I'm out of line, man. Plus, as you mentioned in the letter, the sun sets early in winter. Are you seriously suggesting that, like a Christmas day, to give an example, Rowan and I wouldn't be able to have a joyous time with their family after, say, three or four in the afternoon?

Not at all, Mr. Neville. Be as joyous as you want throughout the year. I am only saying that you wouldn't be able to laugh after dark, not until the sun rises once more. Irene, I have to say, I'm more than just a little frustrated to be learning of this rule after finalizing the contract. Did you not talk to the letting agents about Brave Rose HOA before purchasing the property, Mr. Neville?

But yes, I signed your associate's agreement and there was no mention of this rule. I know that because I read it again this morning, so this isn't legally enforceable whatsoever. You are absolutely right, Mr. Neville. It isn't legally enforceable. Right, so... Did I mention anything about a possible breach of our contract?

Did I mention anything about the consequence of breaking the ruled? Did I mention, for example, anything about seizing the property should you not comply? Well, no, but what's the point of making a rule that you wouldn't be able to even enforce? It makes no sense.

As I mentioned in the letter, Mr. Neville, I am not the one who enforces it. The HOA didn't make the rule. We simply inform. I see. So what would be the consequence of my wife or I deciding to, I don't know,

laugh after dark. For the first time in our entire conversation, Irene fell silent, hesitated for a moment, longer than a moment. It was her only sign of humanity throughout the call. The only sign that she was more than a pre-programmed series of chipper dismissive statements. This is a spectacular neighborhood, Mr. Neville. The 50 residents of Brave Row lead happy lives. And I hope that you and Rowan joined them. I truly do. But we all have to sacrifice something for such peace, some security from the outside world. And that something is laughter, Mr. Neville, only during those dark hours of the day. That's not an answer, Irene. What would be the consequence? I wish you'd know the poor souls who found out, if you had.

You wouldn't be asking questions. You dare not be laugh ever again. The curt woman whose jolly demeanor had entirely dissipated, abruptly ended the call, and I was left sitting in my study for the rest of the day, ignoring messages from my boss and co-workers. Not only refusing to work, but refusing to move. That may seem a little extreme,

but you'd understand my reaction if you'd understand my reaction if you'd. overheard that call. If you'd lived on the street of Brave Row for a mere two days, as my wife and I did, because we certainly didn't stay after what happened on the second night. I was stirred from my trance, which must have lasted hours, around nine in the evening. Rowan had finally returned home from another late night at the hospital,

and the slam of the front door seemed to finally bolt my frozen body from its paralysis. Still, the sudden return to reality didn't make me feel any better about the call. with Irene. I didn't dismiss the rule as the overbearing control of a tyrannical association. I believed the old woman. I believed that something awful would happen if we were to laugh. I had no idea what that something might be. I wasn't going to wait for an answer, an answer. I wanted my wife and I to sell our home. I wanted us to get a hotel for a night and figure out everything else after that. I shakily stumbled out of the office, wondering what had possessed me, wondering why my heart was beating so quickly.

Irene's just a power-hungry socialite, I told myself. You should hire a lawyer. Talk about this arbitrary rule which wasn't included in the agreement. That was what the rational part of my brain said. However, the irrational part of my brain, the part steered by my sick gut, told me to ignore logic, ignore reason, and listen to that ever-present dread in my heart. The dread that told me to listen to Irene. The dread that told me to take my wife away from Brave Row.

By the time I reached the lobby, I was panting. Sweetie, sweetie, I... My eyes widened when I saw that Rowan wasn't alone. Her colleague Joanne was standing beside her. My wife's friend wore a smile on her face. Sorry, it's been a wild day. Rhone sighed, walking over to me and planting a kiss on my cheek. I'm just going to lend Joe in my dress.

She's got a fun night out plan for tomorrow. I'll be out of your hair in a jiffy, Owen. I followed my wife upstairs and started whispering. Okay, honey, I is very wrong with this place. What do you mean? Did you tell her that the HOA didn't mention a noise rule in the agreement? Yeah, of course. She admitted that it isn't an official rule.

Nothing that could be legally enforced. Good. Case closed, sweetheart. No, it isn't closed. She told me that the rule is enforced by... She didn't say who enforces it. She just said some really disturbing things. Everything's ruined. Said the others had learned the consequences the hard way. She was giving me a warning or a threat. Should we find an attorney? This isn't right. This is a bullying tactic.

It must breach our contractor some law. We can fix all that later right now. I want to get the fuck out of here. What? Sweetie, we just moved into this place. And I'm telling you to trust me, honey. Do you trust me? You're starting to make me anxious. Did Irene say? say to you? Just, it was her voice, Rowan. The way she mentioned, the consequence, it wasn't right, any of it. I think we should get out of here. I expected my wife to resist. They expected her to roll her eyes and say that life doesn't work that way. We just bought the house. To sell it immediately based on an unnerving phone call might seem a little extreme to some people. And if there were any other reason for my distrust, then I would absolutely agree. I'd argue that we should stand there. I'd

our ground, hire that attorney, laugh for hours in the comfort of her own home, simply to spite the maniacs in charge. Clearly believe. Fetch that dress for Joanne, then we'll go to the hotel. But tomorrow, we have to sort everything. Thank you, honey. What are you two doing up there? You didn't stumble into bed on your way to the wardrobe, did you?

Joanne laughed loudly from downstairs. Ouch! My wife yelped. My fingers had involuntarily tightened like talons around Roman's upper arms, but I immediately released her when I regained control. And then, my eyes shot to the bedroom window, eyeing the burnt orange sky which painted the horizon. A sliver of sunlight persisted on that humid summer's evening. A glow at the end of a blackened tunnel.

I prayed for the first time in my atheistic life. prayed that Joanne had laughed before dark. Owen? What'd you call it? Dark. Uh-oh. Looks like Joanne won't be invited to the community block party anytime soon. I have to jump on the phone with a consignor real quick, like.

But stay put and make yourself at home. I'll be right back. To leave a message, please do so with the tone. and have a great... Hey guys, I'm just calling again. I bought these old cowboy boots from you all a couple weeks ago. They've been doing really well. I don't know if it's the boots or not,

but the past few rodeos I've competed in, I've come out on top each time, but there's a weird thing going on. I'm being followed by an older gentleman who... Well, he doesn't have a fake. I'm aware of no refunds or exchanges. He doesn't seem to be violent, but he keeps showing.

coming up at really odd times. If y'all could possibly give me any kind of advice or tricks to get them to stop following me, I tried leaving the boots. Maybe they were his, but I can't take them off. Any tips or tricks would be much appreciated. Yeah, please, please get back to me. Thanks for your patience and pardon the interruption. Now let's get back into escrow.

Shall we? What are you two doing up there? You didn't stumble into bed on your way to the wardrobe, did you? Loudly from downstairs. Ouch! My wife yelped. My fingers had involuntarily tightened like talons around Roman's upper arms. But I immediately released her when I regained control.

And then, my eyes shot to the bedroom window. I'm the burnt orange sky which painted the horizon. A sliver of sunlight persisted on that humid summer's evening. A glow at the end of a blackened tunnel. I prayed for the first time in my atheistic life. Prayed that Joanne had laughed before dark. Owen? Would you call it?

Dark, outside. My wife's head rolled slowly to the window. Then she returned her frightful eyes to me. It'll be fine, honey. I'm sure it'll be Fine We'll receive a slap on the wrist or something Like you said

There was nothing about laughter in the contract By the haunted look in Rowan's eyes It was clear that she Like me Sensed something A foreboding ripple in the air Which felt and smelt like rotten brown When we unloaded our belongings from the moving van

The sensation of a hidden thing within Brave Row. A watcher. A listener. Won't she fucking stop? I mumbled, clutching clumps of my hair. Wimpered, clumsily plucking a blue gingham dress from the rack. She'll take this.

Leave and we'll leave too. Steped in front of my wife and taking the dress from her. Then we walked across the landing, like weary prisoners on death row. I tentatively peered over the banister at Joanne. the smiling woman donning turquoise scrubs that matched those in my wife. I was frustrated and terrified in equal measure. By the innocence of Rowan's friend, the problem wasn't simply that Joe hadn't read those,

that she clearly didn't feel what Rowan and I felt. Though my wife and I had been jubilant on that first day in our new home, our property had been pre-furnished with a weighty plan. To eyes, and I'm sure she must have read it. in mind. Well, you took your time. Joanne giggled, piercing my heart with fright for the third time. Oh, it tickled me, seeing you run upstairs after her.

Did Rowan need your fashion tips, Owen? Oh, yeah, something like that. I whispered, hurriedly handing the dress to my wife's friend. You okay back there, Rowan? Joanne smiled, peering at my wife, who timidly stepped out from behind me. Come over shy all of a sudden? Now I'm starting to think you coy lovers really did. Get up to something.

Ah, to be young again. Anyway, thank you very much, sweetheart. You're an absolute lifesaver. In this dress, I'm sure to keep the eye... Joanne was interrupted. Not by knocking on the door. Not by the disappearance of lights in the house. Not by any ominous sign I expected.

She was interrupted by her own spontaneous choking. Seemingly prompted, forwards. Joanne? My wife managed to catch her first. frightened friend and outstretched arms. Tears swam in Joanne's eyes as her legs buckled and she gasped for air. Then Rowan started to perform the heimlich maneuver as snotts spilled from Joanne's nostrils and I contended with the terrifying prospect of witnessing somebody die.

Several excruciating seconds later with a slight crunch from Joanne's splintering ribcage, a vile stream of bile released from the back of her throat. And in the mess, which spread in a festering pool on the floor. there floated, being the only non-squeemish member of the trio and noting that the other two were still recovering from the trauma of Joanne's sudden fit. I knelt down to pluck the note from the lake of vomit. It bore neat, printed lines of text in a minute font. After I scraped a streak of sick away, two sentences became legible. Expulsion notice.

Please exit through the basement. I read the note aloud, whilst Joanne continued to splutter, and my wife eyed me disbelievingly. So I read the note again, and again. Joanne looked twice as perplexed as Rowan. I understood the reactions, of course. Understood that none of it seemed rational. We didn't have an explanation for the note's mysterious arrival.

Joanne hadn't swallowed the slip of paper, and it had simply emerged at the top of her throat corking her trachea, not in an attempt to end her clearly given the note's second sentence. Please exit through the basement. Doanne screamed as she flung the front door open. The thing is, it revealed not the front porch. Back door, the house opened onto the front entryway. Windows opened onto the interiors of various other rooms throughout the house.

This was the case not only for Joanne but for Rowan and me too. We were all doomed to the same fate. trapped in a looping house far from the real world. The horror of our predicament became unavoidable. We had one. Happens if we do as it says. If we exit through the basement. What is happening?

Joanne wailed, barely registering anything. I shakily answered. You, Joanne, shrieked tearfully, snot still staining her face. I don't understand it either. Rowan whispered, holding her friend's hand whilst turning to me. Oh, you have to try the basement. nodding. And Joanne sobbed whilst I led the two of them to the door.

It opened with a slight creak, and I should have breathed a sigh of relief at seeing the basement's darkened staircase, rather than a portal to another room in the house. But there was no wave of euphoria. Only that blackened tide of fear rolling towards my mind. threatening something worse than an end, I was haunted by the idea that death, I guided us into the darkness, taking fragile steps and spinning my head frequently to ensure that Rowan and Joanne remained behind me.

Once we reached the lightless basement floor, the door at the top of the stairs loudly closed. I fumbled for the light switch, but it was gone. There seemed to be nothing down there. None of our unpacked boxes. No shelving units, just an empty, unlit room. No idea. Joe's right. There must be more to it than that.

No! Joe, are you okay? Not a laugh of joy. Not even a mocking sound. It was a laugh devoid of soul. Devoid of life. One that seemed to serve simply as the welcome to some eternal nightmare. A noise that Joanne seemed to be blindly walking towards, willfully or not.

I clutched at air or a void with my free hand, desperate to find her. Stop it! Show you! My wife's friend screamed as she saw something in the dark. Something that Rowan and I did not see. Something I realized was too terrible for living eyes, given that Joanne had perished. I'm not sure how I knew that.

I simply understood that she would not return to the land of the living. I understood that she was not simply exiting Braverow. She was exiting reality. And she would not be entering some joyous afterlife. I had no doubt that a hellish, torturous eternity awaited. Squeaking wood sounded, and I rotated my head. Rhone and I had only walked a few steps from the staircase, but it was inexplicably a hundred yards behind us.

The open door, at the top of the stairs, cast light from the lobby. It was the only visible thing in the void which had swallowed Joanne, the void that still threatened to swallow Rowan and me. Come on! I yelled, dragging my wife behind me. As we darted towards the escape, I started to feel something more physical in the absence of the room,

a manifestation of the dark tide that had been approaching my mind. Joanne whimpered incoherently from a place, both near and far. Owen, we had to... Go! I ordered, pushing my wife under the first step. He's always something. I turned for a moment. He felt a searing pain in my brain.

That black tide had finally arrived. Submerging the joy in my soul, pushing it from reach. The dark brought not suffering, but the promise of suffering. It was a warning from whatever lay in the deepness of that basement. Whatever thing beyond the laws of man enforced the rule, Rowan and I had obeyed.

Joanne had not. It was as awfully simple as that. But my wife and I were being offered safe passage from the terror. We were on the stairs, mere yards away from safety. Still, I considered it for a moment. Considered what Rowan had said, the way of saving Joanne. In a place that defied all spatial loss, I still felt the presence of my wife's friend,

felt her cries burrowing deeply into my ears as distant as they sounded. The place was a trick. She might have only been yards from us. I believed I could do something. Thoughts. Read my intent to plunge into the darkness and rescue the poor woman. That likely would have broken some other unspoken rule. For a hand stretched from the black.

And it did not belong to Joanne. It was a skeletal, six-fingered appendage, cloaked and ragged ripped strips of gray skin. It was not skin at all, of course. Just as the hand was not a hand, was not anything that belonged to anyone. Worst of all, I know it did not even belong to the watcher. It was a tool used to make a point. If I had seen even a sliver of that thing's true form,

and like Joanne, whatever enforced the rule of joyless evenings in Brave Row, it did not come from anywhere earthly. and it did not take Joanne to anywhere earthly. I screamed, retreating from the fingers as he sought to snatch me. Perhaps by returning to the dark and searching for Joanne, I would have also faced a horrible doom. But I didn't allow myself to find out.

I narrowly swerved the hand and followed Rowan clumsily up the stairs before slamming the door behind us. We ran to the front entrance and she pushed down the handle to reveal a wonderful sight. Our porch drove away from Brave Row. I promise never to be back. We don't even plan to collect our things. Even at the sun's high point, I wouldn't risk uttering even the slightest giggle and brave row.

Besides, there are things worse than material loss, things worse than death even. But I never gazed at those things. Pray for something true. 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 050. My Gated Community Has One Rule. No Laughing After Dark. Written by Dominic Eagle.

Starring Romy Evans as Rowan. Trevor Shand as Owen. Allison Cossett as Joanne. Lorraine Thompson as Irene, 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 Happenings is created and curated by Trevor and Lauren Shand.

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