The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings - Lot 132 : The Watcher (Chapter 3)

Episode Date: June 26, 2026

Lot 132 : The Watcher (Chapter 3)   Consigned by Brandon Faircloth Starring Trevor Shand Jarret Griffis   **Many thanks for patronizing our curious little establishment through the Rocket Money and Shopify links below. Your continued support helps keep the lamps lit and the shelves full of peculiar treasures. We are most grateful. Shopify: https://www.shopify.com/tash Mint Mobile: https://mintmobile.com/SINISTER Antiquarium shop: https://theantiquarium.myshopify.com   Theme music by The Newton Brothers   Produced by Kevin Seaman   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.

For an ad-free experience, visit the obsidiancovenant.com. I was expecting you, friend. And I have just what you've been looking for. Another painting. I know. At this point, you may be wondering why so many of Rachel's messages found their way onto canvas. Truth is, I don't think she trusted words.

Not on their own. Words can be altered. misunderstood, but a painting, a painting can hide things. Which brings us to this particular piece, an old movie theater viewed from the back row, empty seats,

a blank screen. I believe it is showtime. This is The Watcher, Chapter 3. 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 Shannon Oliver, Megan Orfield, Kathleen Stanko, John Montgomery, Macy Thompson, and TKD 347. 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. Blanked as I began to look around. My mouth was dry and my head hurt, but otherwise I felt okay. I wasn't tied up anymore. Instead, I was laying back on a padded table. But this wasn't a doctor's office. The room was large. And aside from the padded table, it held a small bed.

A desk with a computer monitor on it And a couple of chairs Sitting in one of those chairs Was Mr. Solomon I raised up slowly Blinking at him Where is she Is Rachel okay

The man smiled You really are something Thomas Trying to be the hero Even if you don't quite know how I respect that Licking his lips he leaned forward slightly In fact I respect that so much that I've decided to start our new relationship with as much honesty as I'm allowed.

Some of my colleagues disagree with this approach, but you know what? Fuck them. This is my project. And I think you deserve to know what's going on. Looking more serious, he stood up, lifting the gun he'd been holding casually in his lap. But before we get into the details, the nitty-critty, would you like to see Rachel? I slid off the table and nodded as I caught myself from falling. My legs were still wobbly from whatever the fuck they'd given me, but I barely noticed.

Yes, please. Let me see her. The real her. Mr. Solomon gave a small laugh and gesture toward a nearby door. Reality is always best. She's just there in the next room. I stumbled my way forward. My legs getting better as I walked. And when I grabbed the doorknob, it turned east. I expected the door to lead to her bedroom, but instead it opened into another room a lot like the one I'd been in.

Filled the stuff in it was different. Strange machines filled the walls, and in the back of the room was a large aquarium? I didn't know. It was a big cylinder taller than I was, and it was filled with some kind of gray liquid. There was a shape in that liquid. Go ahead, Thomas. feel free to go have a good look. You've earned it.

I felt my stomach clenching tighter at Mr. Solomon's words and the meanness in them. My legs felt heavy again now, but it wasn't from the drugs this time. Shuffling forward, I could see the shape was a person, or at least a body. Because it was clear from just looking at it that the person was dead, it was very well preserved. But I could see how the skin hung wrong. and looked bloated in spots. Oh God, no, no, no, no, no. The fuck.

Its hair, which had been floating like seaweed in front of its face, drifted away as I reached the glass. And I could see Rachel staring out at me. Murderer! I turned on Solomon and started to run toward him when he shot me. Suddenly I was on the ground convulsing as he stepped closer. Don't worry, Thomas. It won't kill you.

Just make you unable to move. much for a bit. I heard more footfalls as my body began to still. Get him up. Take him back to the other room. I could barely feel anything as I was carried back to the padded table and propped up into a sitting position. This time I was strapped down.

I guess it was more so I didn't fall off because I couldn't move anything other than my fucking head and even then just a little. I could hardly see it all for crying. But I recognized the blurry shape of Mr. Solomon sitting back down in front of me. Before you ask, well, when you're able to ask anything again, yes, that is Rachel. Not a fake Rachel, not a dummy, and not some kind of trick. As I said, the time for tricks is past. Now is the time for truth.

Thomas, I understand that showing you that, showing you her body that way, might seem very cruel. You may hate me for it right now. I would understand it if you did, but you called me a murderer, and that, in this specific context, I think that is unfair. Because I didn't kill Rachel. In truth, I've been with this aspect of the project for only seven years. He gestured back to the door behind him. And Rachel has been dead for over eight.

I felt my eyes widened, as though they belonged to someone else's body. It was more lies, more tricks, all of it. Oh, God, it had to be. Do you know what remote viewing is? Sorry, Brandon, you can't talk right now. I'll just assume you don't. Remote viewing is a broad term for the ability to see things that are far away from you physically. To know things you shouldn't be able to know through your normal five senses.

Some describe it as a psychic ability, though there are several schools of thought as to how and why it works. His eyes fixed on mine intently. Because it does work, Thomas. Various governments and private organizations have studied it for a very long time. And while publicly it's always ridiculed as pseudoscience and foolish superstition, the reality is that some people have the innate ability, that means it comes naturally, to somehow see other places. Rachel was one of those people.

She came into the program when she was 17, having been identified. via a front-facing screening process that was ran as a psychological test that paid subjects well at a time when Rachel was looking to make some money. Three months after being identified as a good candidate, she was taken. And after the initial adjustment period, she became a largely compliant asset that quickly rose to the top of our talent pool. Solomon folded his hands on his knee. I know you cared for her, Thomas. So I think this is worth sharing.

Rachel was never treated badly, other than her confinement and the occasional test that was mildly unpleasant. No, no, we all treasured her. She was enormously talented, not just as a remote viewer, but as an artist. That's how she would convey what she saw, you understand. She would enter into an almost trance-like state when she painted. And when she was done, she would have given us a painting of images and words that provided, well, it was very valuable information. If you ever wondered, that's why there was always such care that the paintings were never shown to the camera.

Picking at his pants, he went on. Rachel was so talented that she was selected for a new program that we thought might great. enhance or alter her ability. We introduced something foreign into her body. At first, nothing seemed to change. If anything, the accuracy of her remote viewing was declining, which was a problem for us and for her. But then we realized that we were reading the new paintings incorrectly. She was able to see more clearly than ever. She was just no longer bound to only current events. Now, her sight, transcended time. He paused, and I realized he was enjoying telling the story.

The bastard was just having a good time, pausing to make it more dramatic. I would fucking kill him. While this made some of her paintings less immediately useful, they became much more valuable as we were able to decipher them. Now, for a time, it looked as though everything was working better than we had ever hoped. And then, one day. She showed a painting to the camera. It said, please help me, Thomas.

Now this immediately sent up all kinds of red flags. She knew not to show paintings to the camera, and now she was trying to communicate with someone. We didn't disrupt her routine, but an intensive investigation began into who she was talking to. Was it one of her handlers? One of the technicians? Someone from her past life.

but nothing nothing checked out leaning back in his chair a look of pride grew on Solomon's face as he continued I was the one that first suggested the idea that she was intentionally or not

knowingly or not seeing and talking to someone in the future I was still an outside consultant at the time but by that point we had more strange behaviors from her including the second message painting. That girl isn't me. My theory made some sense, but it very quickly ran into a

greater obstacle. The introduction of the foreign material had not been as seamless as we had hoped, despite her having been stable for almost three years since it was implanted, whether it was due to her increasing emotional upset and stress, or simply the passage of time, she suddenly began to deteriorate. Her work became more erratic and hard to understand as her body began to decline. We were monitoring her health closely,

but it didn't matter. Five days after she painted, that girl isn't me, she suddenly went into cardiac arrest and died, somewhat inexplicably we were unable to resuscitate her. That was a great loss, and it required adjustments of my theory. Based on everything we knew, it still made sense that she was talking to someone, someone with access to the camera feed, and very likely someone named Thomas.

If Thomas was viewing that camera footage in the future, as I believed, then he must be working for us in the future. And whether you believe that the future is set in stone or not, I'm all for giving it a helping hand. Seven years ago, I began the Thomas Project. Over the course of that time, I have overseen the screening and hiring of 43 men named Thomas at several different sites,

all within one very specific job. To watch the videos of Rachel from just before her implant, to the time of her death. I tried to speak, but my mouth still wouldn't work. I wanted to say he was lying, that it didn't make sense, that it was another trick.

But I think I wanted to hear it more for myself because I didn't think he was lying. I didn't think it was a trick. And I thought it was starting to understand. The point wasn't really them watching the videos, of course. It was how they reacted to watching the videos. What they did. did and how they matched up with what Rachel had done in response in the past.

13% quit after the first day. 38% hit either the red or the green button after the first message asking for help and saying their name. 22% attempted to contact the authorities before reaching the stage where Melanie was introduced. I wish I could take credit for her introduction, but it wasn't my suggestion. We assumed from the, that girl isn't me message that there was a double of Rachel introduced to you at some point, perhaps to kill you or dissuade you or find out what you knew. But it took a few tries until we felt it was well refined.

And as I've pointed out, only 27% made it that far. And all of them failed the next test. He pointed at me. Her name. You see, the girl you've been watching, that talented, wonderful girl whose body is preserved in the next room, her name was Rachel Donovan. I had always wondered if Rachel was merely seeing you or if there was some kind of connection between the two of you. When you called Melanie Rachel, I knew that we had finally found the right Thomas,

the distant point of light that our Rachel was looking at across space and time. I swallowed thickly and found I could feel my tongue, if only a little. Slurring badly, I pushed out a single word. One moment. That's odd. Someone appears to be standing outside the display window. They've been there for several minutes now. Let me go see if they need something.

I'll be right back. Apologies. Nobody there. Sometimes the absence of a thing can be just as interesting as its presence. Shall we? When you called Melanie Rachel, I knew that we had finally found the right Thomas.

The distant point of light that our Rachel was looking at across space and time. I swallowed thickly and found I could feel my tongue. If only a little. Slurring badly, I pushed out a single word. Why? Why? I'd have thought that would be clear by now. You are our only remaining link to one of our greatest treasures.

Perhaps you have a similar ability, or it may be that she forged the link purely through her own talent and will. But either way, you're important, and you have more work to do. He stood up and moved over to the table. where he turned on the monitor. As it came to life, I saw it was a frozen image of Rachel's room. A tape paused where I'd left off watching.

Turning back to me, the man looked solemn. You have to watch the rest of it, because Rachel painted you more pictures before she died. And we have to know what they mean. I spent the next five days watching Rachel die. From the outside, just watching the monitor, it didn't seem that different than what I had been watching for the past three years. Rachel slept.

She watched TV, she read, and she painted. But there were signs if you were looking for them. She seemed tired and tense, and she had taken to sleeping more. And occasionally, just every once in a while, she would glance up at the camera. It was then that I could see the first. fear and sadness in her eyes. Inside, I felt like a burned out house collapsing in on itself. At first, I refused to watch.

To do anything they wanted me to do. Solomon didn't get mad at me, but just shrugged. He said while cooperation was preferred and could go a long way toward making my stay with them more comfortable, it wasn't required. If he was right, Solomon said with a thin smile. things would play out as they were meant to regardless of what I wanted or thought I chose either way he added

the video was about to start back playing it would not stop for another five days whether I wanted to spend that time getting to see her again was entirely up to me I tried not to watch but a part of me knew from the start I was going to maybe I'd find some clue that they were lying about her being dead or Rachel could give me some advice or warning about what I needed to do next, I, I didn't know. What I did know is that I couldn't miss the chance to see her again.

And despite knowing in my heart that she was dead, and everything on the video had happened a long, long time ago, I still felt that by watching, I was with her somehow. She had been taken away from everything she knew and she was barely grown, trapped for years just for being special, experimented on, treated like property, kept from ever having friends or family or life. And yet through all that, she was still beautiful.

Not just on the outside, but on the inside too. I had spent years watching her, getting to know her in a thousand tiny ways that so few people ever truly know each other. I had seen her kindness and grace in her actions. Even when she was fighting against the people holding her, I had watched her strength when she woke up, day after day in her prison and never gave up.

And I saw the beauty of her soul and her paintings, full of swirling colors and wonder. She was able to paint these things she saw with such care and love, despite living in a world that had abandoned her so completely. While I wasn't abandoning her, I would watch every bit of the video I could manage, try to burn into my memory every frame I saw of her. Not for them and their stupid project, but for me.

And for her, I may not have much left to do in my life before they lock me away somewhere or even kill me, but I could do this one last thing. Rachel wouldn't die alone. I watched nearly all of it, stopping only to eat quickly and use the bathroom until the last two days. I would ask the guards to pause it, but they would only shake their heads and say Solomon said it had to play normally

until it was finished. By the fourth day, I was in stupor. While I wasn't abandoning her, I would watch every bit of video I could manage. Try to burn into my memory every frame of her I saw. Not for them and their fucking project, but for me. I may not have much left to do in my life before they lock me away somewhere or even kill me,

but I could do this one last thing. Would not. I'd die nearly all of it. Stopping only to eat quickly and use the bathroom until the last. till last two days. I would ask the guards to pause it, but they would only shake their heads and say Solomon said it had to play normally until it was finished.

Straight through, by the fourth day. I was in a stupor. I'd already dozed some the first three days, but when I woke up on the fourth day, I could tell a few hours had passed. There were two trays of food on the bed, one breakfast and another lunch. I looked back at the screen in a panic worrying I'd miss something,

but Rachel seemed to be just waking up too. I noticed her putting her hand to her stomach if she got out of bed and felt my own stomach twist. She was already hurting. Rachel glanced at the camera and tried to smile before moving to set up a new canvas for painting. This was the second of three paintings she did in those last days. The first had been the inside of an old-fashioned movie theater

from the viewpoint of someone sitting in a back row. On the movie screen was just the image. image of a sledgehammer, propped against a brick wall. I didn't understand what it meant, and I found myself scanning the photo for some message or another clue. Eventually, I found what might be one, but though I didn't understand it either, Rachel must have come to understand they knew what she was doing with the paintings and didn't want to stop her. Because these last three, she set out much closer to the camera. I was still squinting and studying the painting closely when I realized the flipped-up seats in the

next row up had brass number plates along the front edge of the seats. Though they were upside down from the viewpoint of the painting, the angle was good enough that once I noticed them, I was able to read them. I didn't understand any of it. But I committed it all to memory, focusing all my attention on the painting until she finally took it away. Even that early on, I could tell painting was taking a lot out of her now. And like I had for so long. I found myself talking to her, telling her to go rest before I remembered her body in the next room. I almost stopped then. But no, maybe she couldn't tell I was talking to her, or maybe she could. Either way, me talking to her couldn't hurt. And it made me feel a little less lonely and

sad as I watched her. The second painting, the one she started after I woke up from falling asleep for a few hours was stranger than the rest. It looked like it was in a room with curved walls made of tree roots, and in the center of the room was a little table made out of the same stuff. Some of the roots around the room were a deep red, but other parts, including the table thing, looked burned and black. I looked closer and saw that I could see a person's shadow over the table, hands holding some long oval-shaped bundle. I studied it for a long time, going over it again and again in my mind after she took it away.

I couldn't make sense of it, of any of it. I wasn't smart enough. I was us failing her. Rachel slept for a long time after that painting. Then she got up on the fifth day, her last day, and immediately started working again. This time she was painting faster. And while I saw her wince occasionally, she never lost her look of determination,

as she slashed lines and colors across the canvas. When she was done, Rachel picked up the painting and turned it toward the camera, giving me a small, tired smile as she was blocked from view. It was looking out from the front porch of a house somewhere. It was out in the country, and the morning view of the yard, and the land beyond were wonderful. But closer up, the painting was of two hands, holding on to each other tightly. Their interlocked fingers seemed to glow red and orange in the light of the rising sun.

I found myself crying as I looked at it. Part of it was because I didn't know what it meant. And I felt a growing sense of desperation at the thought that Rachel's last works might be wasted on me. Part was because I knew it had been five days and I could sense I was close to the end. to her end. But there was something more to it than all that too, the last painting. Even with everything else in my head and my heart pulling me down,

gave me hope. Hope of what I didn't know. But I started to think that maybe the only message Rachel had for me in that last painting is that somehow, somewhere, everything would be okay. Outside the edge of the painting, I could see motion in the room. People hurriedly coming in with some kind of medical equipment. and then the monitor went black.

You've done well, Thomas. Very, very well. For the last five days of video, we had charted 1,047 microvariations in Rachel's behavior that we believed might correspond to your behavior, your reactions and your emotional states while watching the video. Like before, the two of you remained in sync as though you were in the same room.

It really is remarkable. staring at Solomon. I listened to what he said, but I didn't care. I just wanted it over. Whatever this was, I just wanted it over. Clearing his throat, he went on. And that's why we've decided to move the implant from Rachel's body to your own. That's one of the many reasons that we've preserved herself.

The foreign body was still showing signs of life all this time, but just barely. and we were afraid to attempt removal. Our hope is that, given your connection to Rachel, it will accept you, perhaps even thrive in you more than it ever did our go. To be continued. 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. You have a good night. The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings. Lot 132, The Watcher, Chapter 3. Consigned by Brandon Faircloth, starring Trevor Shand and Jared Griffiths, featuring Stephen Knowles as the antique dealer. Production and sound design by Kevin Seaman, 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 646-481-717.