The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings - Lot 117 : Harmony Care Home V

Episode Date: March 12, 2026

Lot 117 : Harmony Care Home V Part 5 of 6 Consigned by Quincy Lee Starring Trevor Shand Addison Peacock Magda Apanowicz Fiona Thraille Conan Freeman Mark Lapointe   **Much obliged for using the Rocket Money and Mint Mobile link below. It lends a helping hand to our little shop, and we’re truly grateful for the support. Rocket Money: http://rocketmoney.com/SINISTER Mint Mobile: https://mintmobile.com/SINISTER   https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/183ni4d/ i_visited_a_care_home_and_i_found_a_terrifying/?sort=new   Theme music by The Newton Brothers   Additional music by CO.AG ([e-mail])   Clement Panchout   Vivek Abhishek   SUBSCRIBE to them on YOUTUBE: / vivekhsihba   LIKE them on FACEBOOK:  https://rb.gy/nhgn0i Follow them on Spotify/ iTunes/ Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/rxdcjqt Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

The following is chapter five of a six-part lot. For an ad-free experience, visit the obsidian covenant.com. Good to see you, as per usual, old friend. And, as per usual, another day, another consignment has joined the shelves. It calls your name. Yes, this one arrived folded in a small envelope with no return address. I almost discarded it at first. Looked like nothing more than an old bingo card.

The kind passed out in church basements and retirement homes. But then I noticed the name written across the top. Jack. I am told this came from a place called Harmony Care Home. You know, it sounds so familiar, yet I don't quite know why. Now then, if you listen closely, you may begin to understand how a simple game of chance can become something far more binding. This is Harmony Care Home. Chapter 5.

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 Alicia Acre, Trash Panda Coot, Bloody Legacy, Eliza,

Jackson Cruz, Sam, Well, that's a thing. And Doctor Who, we are ever appreciative of your devotion to The Order. Go to the Obsidian Covenant.com to receive the sacrament. Sounds harmless enough, right? Welcome to the antiquarium of sinister happenings and odd goings on. There's an old bingo card with my name on it.

When I hold it, I can almost remember playing, whiling the hours away, while I was a prisoner at Harmony Care Home. I've been reading my old Reddit posts, decoding the messages, and now I'm pretty sure that I wrote them for Emma, that she and I had hatched some sort of plan, that she was out there, reading them, and that I'd put my life in her hands. If I'm right, then this.

The post-dated November 26th, 20203 holds the final part of my coded plan. Are you ready for it? As Taylor Swift says, it reads, Hey folks, welcome. Glad you could make it. I'm Jack, the new manager at Harmony Care Home,

where we are ready to welcome your ailing elders and guarantee a smooth transition to caring, compassionate, harm-onious senior living. Sorry, did I italicize harm? That was a typo. I'm here to help you through the process, from application to move in. Let me give you a tour. If you've been keeping up with my posts, you are already familiar with the chicken soup dust jacket version of Harmony Care Home.

And for those who haven't been keeping up, the dust jacket is my clever way of referencing the dual nature of the care home. It's like a Stephen King book, but with a chicken soup for the sole cover thrown on it so that it seems like the sort of heart-warning story you'd want to read to Grandma. She lives out her last days here. Sorry, did I say heart-warning? That was just another typo. Nothing to worry about. Entering the front doors, you'll find yourself in a sunlit lobby leading to the common room with tables full of white-haired seniors and happy chatter.

But let's slip that chicken soup does check it off now, huh? Let's suppose. But suppose you're able to see reality for just one moment. Well, to start with, the moment you enter these doors, there's the stench that wafts to your nostrils, rank and pungent like mildew and old garbage and rotting fucking meat. Putrification so potent, not even the chemical cleaners can mask it.

holding your nose while peering out across the dim and empty lobby, you'll notice figures in the common room. If you're brave enough to get closer, you'll be able to distinguish mummified old ladies in floral print dresses and decomposing old men in button downs and slacks. Posed at the tables with playing cards. The creaking of a wheelchair. The patter of spilled pills might alert you to the arrival of one of the more mobile deceased,

like Gerard or Byrne. I'll admit, I ran screaming the first few times that the living dead approached me, but engaging with the recently departed is actually part of my managerial duties, so these days I stick around for a game of gofish. After all, I wouldn't want to get fired. Like, really, really wouldn't want to get fired. incidentally our numbers are at historic lows meaning I've got quite the quarter to fill

and I've been told if I don't fill it with somebody soon then that somebody's gonna be me shit so tell all your friends I'm so looking forward to welcoming you on your visit but wait a second Jack when did you become the fucking manager of Harmony Care Home aren't you supposed to be working on a plan to shut down that evil place

duh I'm in the middle of said plan right now Now, obviously, that's why I'm the manager. And as you can tell from my not-so-secret messages about being trapped in room 313, it's all going great. But yes, let's talk about the plan. Part one, become the manager. Check.

Part two. Sneak into the sub-basement and undo the ritual that opened the care home to the other side. Part two is obviously the more problematic part. See, now that I'm working here as manager, I am realizing that the only way I'd ever succeed in this mission is if I had the personality of somebody brave, or maybe somebody who likes saw movies. Perhaps if I were the type of guy who reads a Stephen King story and says to himself, It don't be great. If the children of the corn were real, and I could babysit them. I bet a Jack who said that would do great at this mission, but since my favorite color is yellow,

my favorite food is chicken, and I have a debilitating medical condition that prevents me from descending stairs because I am spineless. I'm not well suited. And speaking of spines, please don't let me return as one of those living dead. If I die here, cremate me. Lord knows I've earned it. Huh. I'd show myself out, but as you all know, I'm fucking stuck. Right, so, how did I wind up here, room 313?

Let's hop back in time now to the moment I'm attempting to carry out my actual mission. The moment I make my shaky way down the basement stairs, in the pitch blackness and absolutely everything goes wrong. Oh, also, the lights down here don't work because apparently the bulbs have never been replaced like ever.

So I'm navigating by flashlight as I tiptoe cursing the debris that crunches under my shoes making a silent descent impossible. And I want to be silent because I need a step before the bottom. I pause. I do hear something.

A soft shuffle somewhere down the hall. When I shift my flashlight's shaky beam, my heart slams like a sledgehammer into my ribs. Because the light catches bare skin. There's an old man down here in the basement. Completely and unsettlingly naked. His name is Ronnie. Room 224.

From his shaking and mumbling, it's clear he's alive and not one of the living dead. One of the handful of living residents whom the care home feeds on until their minds and bodies decay. Application still open to Ranger visit today. Behind him, he's left a trail of bloody footprints. Fresh, red, glistening under my light. Probably from walking over the broken glass strewn on the floor. He's so far gone, I doubt he'll make it much longer. But I can't leave him here in the basement, especially overnight.

So I call. Hey, Ronnie. Nice birthday suit, man. Come on, let's get you back upstairs. Ronnie is shivering. His teeth chatter as he rotates his head to look at me. His eyes are sunken and red. Cheeks withered and spittle flecking his mouth.

He says, and he raises a trembling finger and points at me. Very unsettling. Come on, Ronnie. Still shivering as he takes a step toward me, as if to follow me. But then the slap of his feet on the ground stop, and he is shaking harder. He goes still. The shaking stops. That's it.

That's all the warning I get before he lunges. A scram, leaving over a wheelchair in the hall, bounding. off the wall and tipping the chair over behind me so that Ronnie topples over it and spills face first to the floor. I'd rush back up the stairs and slam the door. And yeah, I probably shouldn't leave the old man who was still alive down there, wandering around on broken glass with his bare souls, leaving bloody footprints all over the place, but also, RIPI, P Ronnie. But now, let's pause just a moment to backtrack, because I realize where I left off the previous post, my eyes were stitched up and I just met the custodian. And though we got Emma's grandmother, Darlene out,

The care home took her friend, Lucas. So let's talk about what happened that day. I can't exactly remember much of the aftermath. The notes I took her in my previous post, but beyond that, all I've really got to go on are some sparse notes jotted by Emma, plus a single video she took in the car en route to the hospital with me, Darlene, and Aaron. The video shows a disheveled old woman in a filthy sweater,

clutching the putrid remains of a cat while rocking and babbling. Camera wobbles, and Emma's voice narrates over the rumbling of the car engine. Oh, Graham's recovers, but we don't know if the effects are permanent. We had to leave Lucas behind, and this happened to Jack. The camera pans in the shaky frame, a scruffy guy in a hoodie,

face caked with blood from the stitches on his eyes and mouth. Jack, does it hurt? Are you going to be okay? The man in the hoodie spreads his hands, shrugs. I hope so? The man makes a finger gun gesture. You got it. Watching this clip, it's impossible to tell if Video Jack's jokey behavior is because

he is less horrified than everyone else since he cannot see his own face, or if he's just pretending. But I have a second video on my phone that I took later and never showed Emma. In this second clip, I'm in the hospital after the stitches have been removed, and I'm touching the skin beneath my eyes, whispering in a panicky voice. Presumably because I can still see.

And the Jack in this video is not turning his mangled face into jokes. His eyes are wide in fear. And the camera is shaking. And he's right at the brink of tears. And that's the Jack who has written every post for you. varicated in room 313 while trying to sneak out secret messages. I'm telling you this so you understand. This video recap is all you're going to get of the elusive thing called honesty.

I lie. I lie a lot. It's a coping mechanism and a survival mechanism. I'm doing it more in this post than ever before. So, we reported Lucas missing to the authorities. But of course the cops never followed up on their investigation into the care home. In fact, it wasn't until several days after the raid. While Darlene was under observation at the hospital and I was home healing from my stitches,

that Emma learned Lucas's fate. She did this by ringing the care home's front desk. We'd called before, only to reach the answering machine or the raspy female voice of a resident named Queenie, always trying to entice us into visiting. But this time, a male voice on the other end politely said, there was a pause. Lucas? And the line went dead. But it was definitely him.

She told me later. His voice, Lucas was alive and working at Harmony Care Home. He thinks he's been working there for months. That it's his job. Emma exclaims to me two days later. She's just gotten off the phone with a mutual friend of theirs, Min G, who called the care home and spoke at length with Lucas. According to Min G., Lucas sounded and acted normal, save for the fact he insisted he'd been employed at Harmony Care Home for months. And when Min G worriedly asked him about his actual job as a firefighter, he hung up on her.

And let me guess, they offer great benefits in a fabulous retirement plan. It's not funny, Jack. Getting them out is going to be as dangerous as getting Darlene out was. I'm reviewing our notes, something I have to do every day because we're both still affected by the amnesia. Every morning, we wake clueless about each other and our mission until we find notes and video messages recapping our prior days. So that by the time we meet each other every morning, at my place, since Emma likes to check in on Prometheus, we each feel like we've watched short films of each other's lives. It's fucking awkward as shit.

But I've always got vegan sausages and oatmeal in my fridge for Emma, and she always brings me a caramel latte and bagel. And even though we meet as strangers, we can read each other with an intimate familiarity. It's weird. How the care home brings us together, but drives us apart at the same time. All right, we need to find a way to reverse this.

The ritual, I say. While my brain ponderes the beginnings of the idea, that will be my doom. But it'll never happen, Jack. Everything I've read says the same thing. To invite or uninvite the entity, we need to know its name, or the name Roderick used for it.

And he didn't write it down! She slaps a hand on the stack of papers, letters, books, and various research materials scattered over the table. She's right. Though we've been through Roderick's writings, even a collection of short stories he penn that I suspect is a fictionalized account

of his actual experiment. We've scoured everything down to his postcards. And nothing custodian by that or any other name. But there is one place we haven't searched. If we play our cards right, I look up at Emma. We can use Lucas where he is. He can search the care home. Oh my God.

Do you hear yourself? Lucas will be safe at least for a while. How do you know that? Because the care home needs him. I pull up our spreadsheet on the care homes visitors, residents, and staff. Harmony Care Home's current situation is actually pretty precarious because the previous nurse, Kendra Jones, was retired after she saw through the illusions. Her manager, a woman named Felicia Singh,

stayed late one evening and had a run-in with the custodian. This means Harmony Care lost both its managers and its only on-staffed nurse at the same time, leaving no one to maintain its operations. Lolita is there, of course, but she can't answer the phones or work the computer. We discovered when her voice didn't show up in recordings, that she's part of the illusion. And while the care home may be supernatural, it operates in the physical world and requires living people to manage those operations. The number of residents has been dwindling. Currently, they're down to five.

And since the residents are gradually having the life sucked out of them, unless new ones are brought in soon to replace. them, the care home is in serious crisis. Simply put, Lolita can't afford to harm Lucas. She needs him to be the face of Harmony Care Home until she builds recruitment backup will never have a better opportunity to find the name. I tell Emma. So she agrees. Not because Lucas refuses to help, he genuinely tries. Once we get him on the phone and congratulate him on his new job, No. The problem is, he's stuck in the illusion. On the phone with Emma, he shares gossip about the dead residents. He even shouts, apologizing for the racket behind him. It's bingo night and everyone's yelling. While Emma and I hear only dead silence beyond his own voice, he sees only

the dust jacket. We need someone who can break the illusion, who knows exactly what to search for and has enough prior paranormal experience to identify when they found it. In short, it has to be me. Pardon the interruption, friend. But look at that. I believe I just got a bingo. Now that's odd. Possibly my prize being delivered.

Let me go claim my winnings. And I'll be right back. That was curious indeed. Nobody was there, but I do feel an odd chill in the air that wasn't there before. Let's hope it's nothing and get back to the care home, shall we? We need someone who can break the illusion, who knows exactly what to search for and has enough prior paranormal experience to identify when they found it. In short, it has to be me. After shutting Ronnie in the basement stairwell, I have only one other means of re-examined.

the ritual room, the elevator. I've searched everywhere else in the care home over the past few days, including Roderick's office, which is now the manager's suite, and no trace of the name. Based on Roderick's notes, it's most likely to be among the symbols and scripts on the walls and ceiling in the ritual room. But if I enter that elevator, I'll have no means of escape should I encounter the custodian on the way down. From somewhere below, Ronnie Wales, sparking an idea.

The night shift at Harmony Carajolome is stark, lonely, and silent. There is no illusion. The dust jacket comes off. And Lolita and her cohort of undead nurses cease operations. All residents and staff returned to their rooms to sequester for the night. Sometime after dark, the custodian appears. Any living being encountering the custodian at this. time will be. Drained of life essence are converted into a dead puppet for Lolita to control

when she reappears with the illusion the next day. Shuffling around the basement corridor, Ronnie is still living. The perfect unfortunate bait for the custodian while I take the elevator down to the ritual room. But I'll need to get the timing right. I switch on three of the lights, near the reception desk in the common room and near the basement stairwell. And then I conceal myself behind a chair in the shadowed corner of the lobby. The swish of the elevator doors. I strain my eyes. I see only a tall shape.

It's sort of like a person distorted through a filter and stretched floor to ceiling. There's a tingle like spiders on my skin. And then the light in the reception. section area flickers out, plunging the lobby. Thirty seconds later, the light in the common room goes out, light nearest the basement's stairwell. As the entire main floor plunges into darkness, I scuttle soundlessly to the elevator bay, where the doors are still open. Press the button for the sub-basement, and with a shutter, the janky old doors close, and the elevator creaks and descends. Somewhere, Ronnie screams.

I hurry to the door of the ritual room, push it open. Hi, Jack. Lolita grins at me. Blue eyes bright and glowing. I've never seen her at night before. And she casts an eerie illumination. Even as she greets me, something spider-like shimmies across the ceiling. And another figure lunges from the floor. floor. Kendra Jones and another nurse. They grab me and drag me to the table. Slamming me to the center amid all the arcane symbols in writing,

Lolita leans her chin on her hand as they strap me down. I really thought catching you would be more of a challenge. But you're so predictable. Then my flesh begins to crawl, as if riddled with millions of spiders. And a buzzing-like electricity sets my heart. hair on end. He's coming for you. Welcome to Harmony Care Home.

As a resident, Jack. I hope you enjoy your stay in room 313. I don't remember much after that. I only remember looking up at the ceiling, at the name etched there that wriggled in my brain and crawled like static in my skull. And then I was looking into the custodian's face. That hole to some other place where its face should be.

be and fearing I would forget myself. There's one memory in particular I tried to hold on to as the static in my mind got louder and louder. One memory I clung to, as if I could just keep that one. Maybe I could get through this without entirely losing myself. It's the last evening at my apartment. The night before I'll be going in to replace Lucas. And Emma and I go over the plan one final time.

She's gotten some pad tie and stir-fried veggies for us to share with beer. It has all the solemnity of the last supper. How are you feeling? She asks. Great, I say and take a drink. Are you scared? Nope. Yes.

Shitless. Duh. Her brow wrinkles. She shakes her head, sets her hands on the table, and says... Nope. No, we can't do this. Oh, not again. What are you talking about?

We've been over this again and again. It's a good fucking plan. And even if it's not, it's our only plan. It should be me. Uh, yeah, agreed, but it can't be so. How can you just be okay with this? I sigh and set my beer down. Look, best case scenario, we save Lucas.

I embezzle some of that money they're sitting on. You have all your people back, and we shut down Harmony Care Home for good. Worst case, I die. But you'll still have all your people back. You won't even have to remember me. Because once the amnesia kicks in, I'll just be that guy that scammed your grandma. What are you so worried about? This seems like a sensible argument.

I've just explained how she has nothing to lose. But Emma gets so mad at me. She balls up her napkin and bursts. You're so stupid, Jack. Even with all your clever plans, you're so, so stupid. Then she snatches up her keys and storms out. Doesn't pick up her phone. It goes straight to voicemail.

She finally returns several hours later, bangs the door open and tosses her keys on the side table and announces. Jack, I need you to be real with me for two minutes. Okay. I very much do not wish to be real. You know, every time I ask you why you're doing this, you always put me off with a different answer. Oh, it's for Darlene.

Oh, it's for the money. And you'll say shit like, oh, I'm not a hero. But here you are, ready to sacrifice yourself for Lucas, who you don't even know. Why? Why is this plan so important to you that you're willing to risk your life? Oh. She means real, real. Well, shit.

I raised two fingers. Okay. First reason. There are no other options. And second? I pause. Grimissing. Honesty is like my kryptonite.

finally admit. I, um... Okay. This past summer, I made a contract with, um... Entity. I met her in this bar. She said if I could convince her I was the worst guy there, she'd give me a million bucks. I didn't think her deal was real.

But it was. And there was a catch. I had to gamble with her for my life. And I escaped her. I barely escaped her. But I had to put myself into a coma. What does that have to do with... So the reason the entity chose me and not some other sap was because I have no strings attached.

She could take me out of the world and no one would notice. Just like scraping a barnacle off the underside of a boat or something. I'm sneering. I can't help myself. Sneering at that barnacle that I know was me. Well... I escaped her. I beat that fucking monster

and I lived. And I learned to hate monsters, by the way, Emma, which is part of the reason I'm going after the care home. I even kept some of that million. Oh yeah, I lied about that, by the way. Oops. To anyone who read my previous account?

Sorry. It didn't really believe me when I said I gave it all the way, did you? Come on. But... She was right. I woke up. And there's no one.

I mean, I had messages. but 90% of them were from people I'd scammed The rest were just people I owed And I just I need to prove I'm not a barnacle Okay It's a simple stupid reason I have to do something to prove

That my life Matters Done I fish around in the sofa for the bottle I keep between the cushions Classy I know man I uh I take a sip of this stronger stuff in a hat

Also Darlene sent me flowers. So, you know, one person. She was the only one. That's why I did it for her. Emma doesn't reply at first. Just looks down and balls her hands into fists. Finally grumbles. Yeah, well, that's stupid. Obviously, your life fucking matters. Does it? I just want to exit this conversation, which I'm going to do through this bottle. Of course it does. Why do you think I got so mad at you earlier. Okay. The warm booze

courses down my throat. I fish for the right words to appease her. You're mad that I'm not taking things seriously. It would be a huge weight on your conscience if I died. Every life matters. Oh my God, Jack!

You're so freaking dense! And I just look at her, trying to figure out why she keeps blowing up at me. Like, why does she continue to be mad? Seeing my clueless stare, she throws her hands up, and then she leans over and kisses me. It happens so fast, and I blink, shocked at the warmth of her lips on mine. She pulls back to look at me and see if I get it now.

And I just say, Oh. Uh-huh. Yeah. I'm an idiot. And then I take her into my arms, ignites. Suddenly, This evening just got so much better.

I don't need to forget my fears and insecurities with booze. I can forget it all through sex instead. Just lose myself in the delicious warmth of skin-on-skin and the brief flicker of being for a short while. Not so completely fucking alone. I arrive at Harmony Care Home the next day. I approach the front desk and tell Lolita I want Lucas out. Tell her that I'm willing to negotiate to be his,

replacement, that I've got years more management experience. I've even whipped up a fake resume. And more importantly, I'm the one Lolita really wants. The thorn in her side, she wants to punish and make into her puppet. And we both know it. She taps a pen to her mouth. I don't know, Jack. There's etiquette around this kind of thing.

And the one who laid claim to you has first dibs. Not any more. My voice is cold And I'm not faking my angers I growl I won her game That contract is over I'm free to make my own choices

I gesture to the building around us And I choose Harmony Care Home Hmm Done Just remember once you sign You're mine I'm reaching for the pen to sign the contract

But hesitate when she adds. Forever. I glanced toward the decomposing husks in the common room. Note the presence of Gerard and Byrne. Their corpses shuffling around. But it's too late to back out now. I sign.

So, here we are, folks. You're all caught out with present-day Jack, who has written all of this shit from his laptop in room 313. Sorry if the chronology is a little hazy. I've been relying on my past notes and videos, and it's hard remembering, you know, almost as if all this stuff happened to someone else. Someone else in a dream. A very long ago dream.

Now, it's also hazy. To be honest, I probably would have lost motivation to finish this post if Lolita didn't keep telling me it's fine to keep writing. That my friends outside might want to know how I'm doing. Well, I'm doing just great. Every day I play bingo with the other residents My best friends are Gerard and Byrne and Ronnie And yeah, I know they're dead But I just go with it

Let the illusion wash over me Forget about reality And sit around the table in the common room And play cards with everyone As long as I stay on the illusion Things are pretty good Writing is actually very hard Because then I remember where I am

And it's like a nightmare Where everyone's dead the only person alive and it's dark and it's cold and I'm starving I'm getting sicker and sicker and my hair is falling out

and soon I'll be one of the corpses too such a terrible trip but then I wake up and breathe in the illusion and everything's fucking totally fine tonight I'll play bingo and hang out with my friends such good friends soon I'll be just like them always

always happy Since this is likely to be my last post, Lolita suggested I tack on a review at the end. Sure, I'll happily keep writing reviews if it'll keep bringing in more friends. I like making new friends. I'm an extrovert. So here's the review I made for Lolita. And it's the truest thing I ever wrote.

Five stars. I'd give it 11 out of 10 if I could. This place is fantastic. Everyone is friendly. The staff is great. I hope I spend my last date. here. And if you want to be happy to never worry about being looked after,

to be comfortable and content, come and join us at Harmony Care Home. Now, today, makes you. 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 117. Harmony Care Home Chapter 5. Consigned by Quincy Lee, starring Trevor Shand, Addison Peacock, Magda Apanovich, Fiona Thrail, Conan Freeman, and Mark LaPointe. Featuring Stephen Knowles as the antique dealer.

Engineering Production and Sound Design by Trevor Shand and Lauren Shand. Theme music by The Newton Brothers. Additional music by Coag, Vivek Abyshech, Clement Panchout, Nicholas Redding, and Conan Freeman. 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 646-481-7-197.