The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings - Lot 140 : The Lump

Episode Date: August 6, 2026

Lot 140 : The Lump Consigned by P.D. Thompson Starring Fiona Thraille Judith Evenson   **Much obliged for using the Factor and Mint Mobile link below. It lends a helping hand to our little shop, and we’re truly grateful for the support. 🍚 Factor: https://www.factormeals.com Use Code: Sinister50off 📱 Mint Mobile: https://mintmobile.com/SINISTER 💚 Antiquarium shop: https://theantiquarium.myshopify.com   Featuring Stephen Knowles as The Antique Dealer   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   The Lump appears in the collection Tales To Terrify:Volume 4 Published by Velox Books Visit veloxbooks.com Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

L equals Q. Hello again. I've often found that the things we invite into our homes receive far less scrutiny than the things we keep out. A new chair. A favorite painting. Fresh linens. Perfectly ordinary comforts.

I present to you lot 140. A down comforter. accompanied by an unusually detailed chain of custody. This is the lump. 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 Megan Grimmis Diana Parvays Mega Chris X and Raid 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.

On Gallo's Hill, which overlooked Witches Valley, where the verdant whispering forest spanned the horizon. Delbert Denton lived alone in a modest house in a cul-de-sac called Snake Den Road. Delbert was a bachelor, never married, and seldom, if ever dated. No woman except his mother had ever visited his home. Professionally single and good at it, he came and went as he pleased, working from home and answering to no one. Except his difficult boss,

who called once daily for a five to ten minute catch-up, Delbert had only met the man once when he was hired as a data entry specialist. He believed his boss to be inimical and had guessed he would not get the job after such an intimidating interview. However, he was wrong. He was hired that day, and that was five years ago. Delbert had recently bought himself new bedding with a comforter, which he was most proud of, and fresh pillowcases.

He spent more time in his bedroom than any other part of the house, since his workstation fit nicely in the far corner of the room. He preferred the lighting in this room to the others. He had considered situating his workstation in the second bedroom, but being a smaller room, Delbert felt boxed in. His bed was perfectly made, and he stood admiring that there was not a single crease to be found. He was so happy with himself that he took a picture of it

and emailed it to his mother, who would be gushing over it, as she often did when Delbert did anything. To her, he was the perfect son. She used to look forward to being a grandmother, but that was years ago. With Delbert being 40, he was likely past the age for talking about having children, and with no one to have them with, it was probably too late. As night approached, Delbert went through his nightly routine of taking a hot, steamy shower, brushing his teeth, putting on his night clothes, and crawling into bed. bed. It normally took only minutes for him to be completely comatose, but on this strange and unforgettable night, something would abruptly change Delbert's routine. When he emerged from the bathroom, fresh and clean, he was startled by what he saw. There was a lump on his bed, the size of a human being. It was under the covers, and the top of the sheet and the comforter had been

folded down. He knew for a fact that he had not left the bed this way when he went for his shower. He had a picture to prove it. His ritualistic path to bed had been thrown off course by this lump right in the centre of the bed. He rationalised it in his mind. Could it be a person? How else can this be explained? He observed it acutely, finding it not terrifying, merely unexplained. How could this lump have occurred? Delbert had no answer, but the big question was, what am I going to do about it? This was his most concerning thought. Undefinable as it was, he took a risk and approached the bed cautiously, not wanting to be scared out of his wits if this lump was a person. How could a person be in his house? He could not imagine something so extraordinary as a person,

crawling into his bed. Was it someone he knew? He very much doubted that since no one visited. He could admit that he was not the best friend anyone could have. He was not very supportive and often found face-to-face communication awkward. Slowly, he pinched the sheet between his index finger and thumb and eased it back. To his relief, there was no one under the covers. Somehow two pillows were lying lengthwise

and with the covers and sheets bunched up together, it gave the appearance of a body. He was breathlessly relieved, not wanting to question how these pillows came to be arranged in such a fashion. Delbert's sleep this night was infelicitous, filled with uncommon tossing and turning, his mind reeling over those two pillows. It should have been the same.

sleep of the year beneath his new bedding. Instead, he got very little sleep and worked himself into a state of worry. The next morning, he swore to himself that he would not let this inexplicable episode interfere with his day. He rose early, anxious to get his day started. He made the bed, creaseless again, and proceeded to the kitchen where he fried bacon and eggs with buttered toast. He knew he ate too much bacon, but the flavour hit his palate with absolute satisfaction. And besides the taste, he loved the smell. After his hearty breakfast, he decided to do some work. Though he was caught up with his target, he wanted to stay ahead with the data entries. That would give him more time away from the computer in the evenings, a time when he enjoyed a good nature walk

along the trails south of his home. Walking into the bedroom, he gasped. His breath took. His breath taken away. He heaved so hard at the sight that he thought he might be sick. The lump in the centre of his bed had returned. His mind reeled, seeing but not believing, his mind caught in a dreamlike sequence that overloaded his stress response. What is this? He moved slowly around the foot of the bed. The shape was the same as before. He knew. he had found his pillows lying end to end on the first occasion, so this is what he should expect now. But what if it wasn't the pillows? No, of course it was the pillows.

They were nowhere to be seen. This is preposterous, he thought, inching closer to the bed. He gradually lifted the covers as he had done before, and there they were, just as he had predetermined two pillows. But how was this happening? what was causing such a bizarre occurrence. Removing the pillows from the bed completely, he stored them away at the top of his closet and tidied the bed again. Creaseless, smooth perfection.

He convinced himself that he must remain austere, ascetic, and keep his wits about him. Now was not the time for superstitious mumbo-jumbo. He was envisaging a calm, non-frightful day of data entry and would not allow himself to think about something as ridiculous as paranormal gibberish. His mother was the superstitious one, not he. This was no more than a trifle, not worth troubling oneself over. Delbert sat at his desk and typed away for the next three hours, never once looking over his shoulder at the bed. He induced himself into work mode, and he was accomplishing

everything he had hoped. If he could finish this today, he could take the entire day off tomorrow. He would be finished and could enjoy a sweet rest upon the bed. As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he stopped typing. His focus had readjusted. This was now a peremptory matter, and the desire to look over his shoulder was like an addiction needing to be fed. He cursed himself for being weak, but then justified the notion, wanting only to prove to himself that there were no pillows on the bed in the shape of a human body. As delicately as threading a needle, his head moved ever so gently to the right. Not truly understanding what taking a look would accomplish, he did so, regardless of how illogical the exercise was. When he had turned, his face drained of its colour.

It became the pallid shade of death, for he saw what could not be. The lump was in full view. It was, again, in the centre of the bed and in the shape of a human form. Delbert did not have to look to know what was underneath the covers. If you'll excuse me, one of the gallery lights seems to have gone out. I'll be right back. Apologies. False alarm. Or, so I choose to believe. Now then, shall we? His face drained of its color. It became the pallid shade of death, for he saw what could not be. The lump was in full view. It was again in the center.

of the bed and in the shape of a human form. Delbert did not have to look to know what was underneath the covers. With a spasmodic, incongruent outburst of rage brought on by the absurd, abominable sight, Delbert grabbed a crutch that leaned against the wall from a broken ankle he had dealt with the previous year and fiercely cuddled the lump with mighty force in three good wax. It did not move. nor did it fight back. The only thing he accomplished by the battering was to indent the shape so it no longer resembled a human form.

Once he gathered himself and brought his demeanor under control, he ripped the covers off the bed to find two white pillows. He convinced himself that his outburst was childish, but he would no longer remain passive. He stripped the entire bed of his new sheets, pillowcases and even the comforter.

He bagged them in giant black garbage bags and took them to the curb for trash collection, which coincidentally was scheduled for the following morning. Afterward, all of the old bedding that he had retired was placed back on the bed and he ordered a pizza for dinner. He was more than determined to wind down and erase all neurasthenia from his mind. And although he wasn't much into sports,

He was sure he could probably find a game of some sort to vegetate to. He did this for the remainder of the evening and into the night. And as morning came closer, Delbert saw that the time was 3am. Disgusted with himself for gluing himself to the TV for so many wasted hours, he realised that he was tired and it was time for bed. The game on TV had been interesting to watch, but he didn't know who had won. He knew little about the rules of sports, and he assumed the highest score one. Before leaving his living room, he looked out of the casement window at the front of his house

just to see if the black bags stuffed with his brand-new bedding was still on the curb for pickup. He was relieved to see the bags still there, right where he had left them. He proceeded to the bedroom to find it as he had left it, his old bedding neatly covering the bed, and no lumped. to bother with. Delbert slept most peacefully, not waking once and dreaming very little but of pleasant things. He believed that his worries with the bedding were over. He was awakened, undisturbed, by the garbage truck making its rounds in his neighbourhood. That relaxed him even more. He glanced at the clock and it was 8am. That was the usual pickup time. Today was Saturday. It was Saturday.

and he had no work to do unless he just wanted to get further ahead on the data entry. He wrestled with the notion of sleeping a couple more hours because he hadn't slept that long, seeing as he went to bed late. He argued that he felt rested, and his taste buzz could already taste the bacon that he loved so much. The bacon lost one out, and Delbert made up his mind to get his day started. He fancied a walk, possibly through the whisperer. forest. He loved that trail. It was seldom trekked by many at once, and that was the way he liked it.

His isolation and avoidance of people were self-imposed. He was not a lonely man, rather he had intentionally extracted himself from other people. His comfort level would instantly drop around strangers, although he could cope with people he knew, a couple of friends and his mother, without the discomfort of feeling out of place. He was so thankful that the lump in the bed nightmare was over. He already had to force himself outdoors and did so once in a while as a reward of sorts for a good day's work. He certainly was not going to stand by

while some mysterious happenings caused him to flee the sanctuary of his haven. No way, no how. As he thought these sorts of thoughts, he detected a peculiarity. He did not move. He became despondent, imperceptibly motionless. He surmised with great confidence that his head was lying on a pillowcase

from the new bedding, the same bedding he had stripped off his bed the night before, placed in black bags and carted to the curb for garbage collection. He reinforced the previous night's sequence in his mind. not moving a muscle. He was sure of it once he played it all back. He distinctly remembered removing both pillowcases. Delbert had a strong, metered internal resistance to believing that his head was caressed against the very cotton fabric that he had gathered up and disposed of. What sort of witchery was this? Was this some phantasmagorical otherworldly event? This evocative scare was a

torment to his mind, no need to become fanatically unhinged. There had to be a logical, conclusive explanation as to how this pillowcase had found its way back to his bed. He remained obstinate that it was possibly due to being tired. Yes, that was it. He was so exhausted and disorientated after the game that he had missed the pillowcase. He reasoned more, thinking it was the former casing he had simply made the mistake of covering the pillowcase. He had simply made the mistake of covering the pillow with the new one, believing all along that it had been placed in the black bags and dragged to the curb. This was all becoming too lugubrious for him to rationalise. All of this probing of his mind concerning the events of the night was tiring, and he suddenly found that his rest, which he had

gladly accepted, was now a dark, infelicitous cocoon, absorbing the bravery that he was dependent upon. The hard truth was that something anomalous was causing him profound distress. He shuddered at the thought, but now he was consciously aware that something was leaning against his back. It was heavy, soft and warm. He could feel this thing down the length of his body. It was at this moment he realized he was not sleeping on his old sheets, but on the new bedding he had tossed. out. Ghosts, hauntings, paranormal activity, that has to be it, Delbert concluded. The bedding is possessed, inhabited, phantom energized. Delbert began the hard struggle with much effort to slide out of bed. He dared not reach over to touch what he assumed was resting beside him.

He resisted the temptation to take a glimpse of whatever had crawled into his bed while he slept. Ever so gently, he removed himself from the bed. Once his feet touched the floor, he shuffled over near his desk where the crutch from his ankle break last year rested. Taking the crutch in his hands, he turned to face the bed. No, it can't be. His reserved taciturn disposition was falling apart. There was no lump in the bed. The bedding was his old set. There were no new pillow-casing, sheets or comforters. He shouted, Stop playing games with me.

Show yourself. He became irresolute, as if his feet were hardened in heavy concrete. He received no reply, not a single hint that anything out of the ordinary was occurring. I am the captain of my soul. Leave me alone. His voice cracked in tearful oppression. He reasoned, waste-deep imperil.

paradoxes in the paranormal without absolution. Every conclusion he reached felt embarrassing, and he felt used, slighted and mistreated by an entity he could not identify or communicate with. Frustrated in this psychologically charged fracker, which, for the moment, seemed one-sided, as Delbert was the only one in the room losing emotional control, he managed to break his paralysis,

and putting one foot in front of the other, he made his way to the door. I'm losing my mind. That's all there is to it. I've gone mad. He opened the bedroom door and looked back at the bed. There it lay, hidden beneath his new bedding. The lump, bold enough to appear but never to reveal itself. This made Delbert even angrier. He marched to the one-car garage where he stored a can of gasoline for his pushmower. He took the can to the backyard along with a box of matches, determined to rid his home of this malevolent bedeviling entity. He returned inside the house to his bedroom where the lump had not moved.

He was dripping wet with sweat from the exertion and his heart raced madly. This is so extreme, but it must be done, he convinced himself. Yanking the covers from the lump only revealed what he had already assumed he would find. Two pillows end to end. He struggled with the bulk of the load, but succeeded in getting everything, including including the pillows to the backyard. Away from the house, he let it all out and doused it heavily with the gasoline. Delbert made sure it was soaked.

He lit a match and tossed it onto the petroleum-drenched cotton. The saturated material exploded in a ball of fire with very little smoke. The heat drove Delbert back toward his house. There, gotcha! He shouted into the red-hot blaze. Unexpectedly, a gust of southern wind, almost as heated as the inferno before him, blew in and across his lawn, lifting the flaming comforter off the ground, carrying it over Delbert's head and onto the roof of his house.

The shingles immediately caught fire. Now Delbert had a house fire to fight. He ran for the water hose, which thankfully was close by, and twisted the handle wide open. He sprayed the roof for about 20 minutes, until the fire department arrived. A neighbour, who had first spotted the fire in Delbert's backyard, had immediately called the fire department,

even before his roof became an incendiary device. It took the fire team 30 minutes to get control of the blaze and extinguished the fire. Delbert's house was badly damaged. The kitchen, living room and guest bedroom were a total loss. His bathroom survived with only smoke damage, but his bedroom office was hardly touched, even by ash. It was intact. Devastated and defeated, he called his mother and explained that he had accidentally burned down his house. Although she was elderly, she still drove a car and came to him right away. He packed what he could of the most

important things related to work and his clothes and went to stay with his mother while he sorted everything out with the insurance company. He had made a mess of things and only one wanted to take a shower and crawl into bed. After his shower, he had some watermelon with his mother and explained that he would deal with everything the next day. He just needed to get some rest. She told him she understood and wished him a good night's sleep. His bedroom at his mother's house was upstairs.

It was the one he grew up in before going out on his own, so it felt a bit nostalgic considering everything to be back living with his mother. He hoped it would not be long before he could. get things sorted. He was thankful that he had rid himself of that tormenting bedding. He reached the top of the stairs and was walking toward his bedroom when his mother called his name. Delbert, honey, I wanted to tell you that you'll be sleeping on fresh linens tonight. I bought a new comforter and bedding for your room. What a coincidence that the day I put it on the bed you needed your old room back? Delbert stiffened. Should he keep walking toward the bedroom or should he return

downstairs? Though he had just showered earlier, he was pouring sweat as if someone had turned up the heat. He struggled to keep walking. Practically dragging his feet in a shuffling motion, he faced the closed door. Delbert turned the doorknob slowly and pushed the door open to find a lump in the middle of the bed, in the shape of a human body, wrapped in the exact bedding he had just burned down his house with. I-Q-T-T-I-J-W-Y-M-J-H-T-A-J-W-X. 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, 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 now. The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings. Lot 140, The Lump. Consigned by P.D. Thompson, starring Fiona Threau and Judith Everson, featuring Stephen Knowles as the antique dealer. Produced by Kevin Seaman. Theme music by the Newton Brothers. Additional music by Coag and Vivek Abyshech.

The Lump appears in the collection. Tales to Terrify Volume 4, published by Vellox Books. Visit Velloxbooks.com. 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.