Ep.345 – Academia Demonia - Back-to-School Demonic Horror

A Chicago hitman is gunned down in 1925 and dumped in a farm grave with a prayer for revenge. A century later, the first day at a small-town high school erupts into full-on possession: shadows walk without bodies, students cling to ceilings, phones glitch, Latin growls through the halls, and a serpent of sulfur chooses its host.

Chelsea Rizzoli just wants to survive the bell. Ethan Crow is gripping a Winchester, and something ancient is steering his hands. Before the doors open to parents and buses, a century-old debt must be paid… and Hell intends to collect.

Expect demon outbreak, mob-cursed revenge, and final-girl stakes—a collision of 1920s crime lore and modern back-to-school terror.

Academia Demonia by David O'Hanlon

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🎵 Music by Ray Mattis 👉 Check out Ray’s incredible work here !
👨‍💼 Executive Producers: Rob Fields, Bobbletopia.com
🎥 Produced by: Daniel Wilder
🌐 Explore more terrifying tales at: WeeklySpooky.com

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:01):
First period attendance by lunch desks on the ceiling, Latin
in the events, and a shotgun that won't let go of
its owner. It's time for back to school, so don't
get caught chewing gum and welcome to Academia deemonia.

Speaker 2 (00:23):
What's that you want to be scared? Come with me.

Speaker 1 (00:35):
You will experience tales over opera, ghosts and death.

Speaker 2 (00:42):
It is not recommended for the week.

Speaker 1 (00:44):
At heart, Heart listen as in the dark, it's more
fun at that way way.

Speaker 2 (00:53):
This is Weekly Speaking.

Speaker 1 (01:02):
Hello, my spookies. It's Wednesday, and you know what that means.
It's time for a little spooky in your weekly. I'm
your host and narrator, Enrique Kuto, and tonight we've got
a story to get you ready for back to school, baby,

(01:23):
something that I honestly find truly terrifying. I mean, the
story's good, but more so going back to school. But
before we get to that, I want to say thank
you so much, my spookies, for joining us as we
prepare for the Halloween season. You will love the spooky
all year long, but many more spookies will be joining

(01:46):
us to enjoy the festivities in October and to make
October extra special for all of us. I'll be providing
thirty one shows in thirty one days right here at
Weekly Spooky. Whether it's another short story, a novella, a
horror movie review, or something entirely different, you know it'll

(02:10):
be spooky and it'll bring the chills. So make sure
you're subscribed on your favorite podcasting app. And if you
want to support us, simply head toweeklyspooky dot com slash join.
For as little as one dollar a month, you get
two bonus shows every month and over five years of
exclusive creepy pasta readings and audiobooks. That's at Weeklyspooky dot

(02:32):
com slash join. But now, as for tonight, they say
some schools are haunted by rumors, others by promises. One
hundred years ago, a hit man was buried shallow and
prayed for revenge. Tonight, the lights flicker, the shadows walk,

(02:56):
and a serpent chooses its host. When the bell rings,
class begins and something old is taking attendance, So get cozy.
That story starts right after this Academia Demonia by David O.

(03:24):
Hanler August nineteen twenty five. He crept along the side
of the farmhouse sticking to the shadows as he pushed
the shotgun shells into his Winchester eighteen ninety seven honeysuckle
drifted on the night breeze. He pinched his nose, trying

(03:48):
to fight the urge to sneeze. The man rarely strayed
from the grimy comfort of the Chicago streets out in
the Illinois Boonda. His allergies were giving him fits, and
the goddamn mosquitoes loved his aftershave more than the wars

(04:09):
on State Street. He couldn't wait to be back home,
and it wouldn't be much longer, just eight pulls of
the trigger. Once the sneeze passed, the man continued his
slow stalk to the back porch. Something sat sourly in

(04:30):
his stomach. Vincenzo Rissouli was paying a premium for a
job that anyone could do. One nosey accountant, his family,
and a four man contingent of state police. Rissoli could
have hired a half dozen zips for what he was

(04:51):
paying for the shotgun man. The man killed exclusively with
his Winchester shotgun, so that was the moniker he'd been given.
Gangsters were terrible at names. Admittedly, he liked the simplicity
of the title and the anonymity it provided. Guys like

(05:14):
Riz worried too much about their names. They wanted people
to know who they were. They wanted to be feared.
But the man knew fear didn't have a name, It
had a sound. He racked the pump and kicked the
back door. One of the coppers tried to earn his

(05:36):
paycheck and capped off two rounds into the broken jam
the shotgun man. He returned fire, turning the gunfighter's face
into a part of the decorps. He had perfected his
craft in the trenches. He kept the trigger depressed and
worked the pump to slam fire the weapon. Unless than

(06:00):
three seconds, the shotgun was empty and all the cops
were down, three were dead, and one was catching up.
The shotgun man pulled a shell from his bandolier and
loaded it straight into the smoking chamber. He listened to

(06:21):
the soothing death rattle of the one he'd caught in
the chest. During the war, the Germans had claimed shotguns
caused unnecessary suffering, seemed more like a perk to him.
Feet stomped frantically overhead as the family upstairs looked for

(06:43):
places to hide. He wondered if they'd split up. A
witness with a clear description would kill him as dead
as a cop with a gun could. The accountant had
brought his wife and two kids to the safe house.
The shotgunman hated shooting kids. They moved too much. Three

(07:10):
hours later, the shotgunman stood over the shallow grave he'd
prepared on the opposite side of the farm. He'd moved
the eight victims from the farmhouse before setting it ablaze.
Authorities would find no remains in the ashes, and if
there were no bodies, then there were no murders. The

(07:35):
shotgunman struck a match with his thumb and puffed a
lucky to life between his thin lips. He held the
match inside the stolen ford. There you are. He grabbed
the boy's arm and tossed it into the pit. With
the rest of the child. He started the grueling task

(07:59):
of filling the hole back in. When headlights turned onto
the gravel road, he watched the three pairs of lights
jostling on the rough terrain. He dropped the shovel and
retrieved his shotgun. The motors were too loud to be
the oldsmobile thirty seven's the state police used, but any

(08:24):
guest was an unwelcomed one. At a crime scene, a
pair of Buicks arrived first, flanking both ends of the
shotgun Man's model T. He couldn't see the drivers, but
he knew exactly who they were. When the third car
pulled in, a parade of flaming elephants would have been

(08:47):
less conspicuous than Rizzoli's rolls Royce Phantom, the shotgun man
watched as the goombas unloaded from their cars. A gut
feeling told the show he should be shooting already. The
Phantom's door swung open, and the gangsters stepped out, giving

(09:10):
a wave to the assassin. Got him all pallly, Riz asked,
of course you fucking did, Hugh Mook see that pit?
The shotgun man always comes through. That's why he's gotta go.
Rizzo whipped the Tommy gun from behind the door. The

(09:32):
shotgun man never had a chance to move. The bullets
stitched him up from groin to gullet, sending him into
a backwards jig until he fell on top of the
Knight's other victims. Riz had betrayed him, paying him off
with thirty pieces of lead He could smell his gums

(09:54):
cooking against the hot slug buried in his jaw. He
was losing feeling in his limbs. He struggled to wrap
his fingers around the walnut grip of the shotgun. He
wanted that to be the last thing he felt. A

(10:14):
shovel full of dirt hid him in the face, then another.
He squeezed the shotgun tight in his dying grasp and
prayed for revenge. Someone was listening.

Speaker 2 (10:35):
Don't go away weekly, Spooky will be right back.

Speaker 1 (10:46):
One hundred years later, Michelle Iomi and Dia Patel passed
the vape pen between themselves in a butterscotch scented cloud
that seemed to hang indefinitely over the picnic table the
four cheerleaders had commandeered for their free period. Shahri Riley

(11:11):
watched Ethan Crow carving into another table on the far
side of the yard. What is he even doing here,
she growled. We running short on rusties. Rusties were the
people who lived south of the town's junkyard During the
Great Depression. Children from the area would bathe in the

(11:34):
creek and the water would stain their skin with the
rust that washed down from the yard. Almost a century later,
the pejorative was still going strong. Then again, so was
the poverty school choice law. Dia told her address doesn't

(11:55):
matter anymore. Well, it shouldn't apply to him. Shahri defended
her stance. He's always given me the creeps, not the
only one. Chelsea resolutely pointed to the far end of
the school. That perv's been hanging around since I got

(12:16):
off the bus. What perv? Michelle looked around. I don't
see anyone that guy right, shit, he was right there,
Chelsea shrugged. He's been watching us for like an hour.
Maybe he finally filled his spank bank. You mean that

(12:38):
weird guy in the hat, Dia asked, you saw him too.
Chelsea took the vape from her right before I came out.
Dia said he was hanging by the library. What kind
of freak wears a trench coat? Dude gave me the
serious dick. He was right there, though, Chelsea said, you

(13:03):
couldn't have seen him inside I did. Dia squirmed. What
if there's like a group of them, like one of
those peto pizza cults. Don't be stupid, Shari rolled her eyes.
This town is full of degenerates like hey, where'd Ethan go?

(13:33):
Don Roberts kept his eyes on the map as he
navigated halfheartedly to his classroom. He'd grown up wanting to
be a teacher. After thirty years working in Chicago public schools,
he just wanted to retire. This was his first year
at LAHHS. It was a smaller school with less problems,

(13:59):
but kids were kids everywhere you went, and kids were
always little shits. His first year teaching, he'd been stabbed
by a student. His last he'd been turned into a meme.
Both had cut him deeply. Thankfully, he didn't have a

(14:20):
class scheduled until second period, so he'd be able to
get in a nip of jamison before the little bastards
rolled in if he ever found the damn classroom. Roberts
jumped at a shadow on the wall. The black shade
of the long coat and the hipster cap were distinctive

(14:44):
on the mint green paint. His eyes traced the sketched
form back to an adjoining hall. The teacher took careful
steps so that he could get a good jump out
of the truant student. He paused at the corner and
tried to wipe off the shit eating grin. Hey kid

(15:06):
he shouted as he swung into the corridor. What the heck,
where'd you go? Kid? No one was there. No footsteps
had retreated across the speckled flooring. Yet the closest place
to hide were the bathrooms at the far end. Windows

(15:28):
lined one side of the hall, and Roberts glanced uncomfortably
at his squat shadow directly opposite them. Despite the august
sunlight spilling in, he found himself shivering. Roberts beat a
quick path to the restroom. Okay, kid, time to get

(15:51):
back to class. No one answered. Roberts walked into the
men's room and heard the rattle of feet pulling up
onto a seat. The teacher pushed the door. It swung inward,
bumping against the teen's knee. The kid took out one

(16:12):
earbud and held his hand out expectantly. You here to
help me wipe, he asked, Pinch it off. Roberts nodded
to the exit. You're missing class. I'm not missing a
goddamn thing, the kid responded, Kid Ethan, The teen corrected him, Okay, Ethan,

(16:38):
you need to get back to class now, or what
Ethan snickered, you'll expel me from the place. I don't
want to be for not being here a bit early
in the year to be this defeatist. Bruh. I got
forty six days until I turn eighteen. Ethan put his

(16:59):
earbud back in. Hugh and the rest of the faculty
can ignore me that long, then I'll get out of
your hair. All four you got left, that'll be enough.
Roberts grabbed the teen's arm. Let's go see Ms. Wardlow.
He's back, Kevin Spacey. He shouldered into Roberts to knock

(17:21):
him away. You can't touch me. This ain't nineteen eighty four.
Then act your age and walk yourself. Why don't you
suck these balls of academia pops. Roberts snapped a finger
at the door. Now the lights flickered, drawing the teacher's

(17:43):
attention long enough for Ethan to run for the exit.
The bell rang, swallowing the sound of the door banging
into the wall. By the time Roberts got there, the
delinquent had melded into the swell of students escaping first period.
I should have stayed in the city, Roberts grumped. Chelsea

(18:13):
watched out the third floor window of her ap history class.
The first day of school, normally had lots of vacant
desks as the teens begrudgingly broke from their summer routines. However,
by fourth period, Chelsea was sure something else was going on.

(18:36):
Despite thirty six desks, only nineteen students occupied the classroom.
Two of the missing had just been with her in
trig She wasn't the only one that noticed. No one,
including the teacher, seemed particularly interested in the curriculum. A

(18:57):
sudden bang drew attention to the the room where Darcy
Smith sat. Darcy stared at the book she dropped with confusion,
but didn't make a move to pick it up. Chelsea
turned to the window again and gasped at the silhouette

(19:18):
of a man outside. Dia screamed. Darcy was convulsing at
her desk. Foam flew from her mouth and her eyes
rolled back before she fell to the floor. Most of
the students shrank away from the violent seizure, clinging to

(19:38):
the walls while pulling out their phones. The teacher slid
to the girl's side. I'll get the nurse, Chelsea said,
chancing one last glance around for the specter in the
window before darting out of the class.

Speaker 2 (19:58):
Au sh it was only the wind. You are safe,
weekly spooky, We'll be right back.

Speaker 1 (20:06):
Nurse McBride was occupied with her sixth case of I
don't feel good for the day. Hunter Prescott made a
show of holding his stomach while groaning. McBride poured him
a shot of pepto, but when she turned around, Hunter
was missing. The door was still closed, and she hadn't

(20:30):
heard it open. She shrugged, downing the pink syrup herself.
The first week was always full of whiners looking to
go home sick. There were at least three waiting outside
the office for their chance to try. A warm, wet

(20:51):
droplet exploded on McBride's hand. She looked down at the strange, foamy,
green yell spatter yuck. She raised her eyes to the ceiling,
Assuming it had come from a second story bathroom. She

(21:12):
expected a spreading stain of sewage saturating the overhead tiles.
Nothing prepared her for what she found instead. Ethan sat
in the janitor's closet. He'd been changing hiding spots every

(21:35):
period since his run in with that new teacher. There
were enough problems at home he needed to come to
school just enough to keep the principal from calling the cops.
Last time that happened, he walked into a door and
spent a week in the hospital. Once he turned eighteen,

(21:59):
he'd dropped and haul asked to Canada. Ethan leaned against
the wall and thought about where he'd hide out next.
A hiss emanated from the mop sink he sat on.
A sulfurous scent wafted up from the drain. He fanned
the smell away. The closet door inched open. Ethan prepared

(22:24):
to make a run for it, but no one was there.
The stench grew stronger with another strange hiss. Someone in
the hall whistled a slow tune. He saw their shadow
on the wall, but not its owner. Ethan watched the

(22:46):
shadow peel itself from the cinderblocks. The darkness stretched away
like black sinew, holding meat to bone. It snapped audibly
as the shadow man moved to the doorway. We have
work to do, the voice, coming from the walls themselves growled.

(23:11):
The sea snake shot from the drain, twisting its massive
body around Ethan. The shade stroked the snake's scales, leaving
an oily streak along its length. As the serpent forced
itself between the teen's teeth. Ethan's throat swelled as the

(23:34):
snake descended into his belly. The shadow Man leaned over him,
dripping shadow onto the boy like it were sweat. Darcy
snarled and spat until she abruptly fell still. Miss Kirk

(23:58):
leaned over Darcy's mouth to listen for a breath. The
forked tongue dry licked the teacher's ear. Kirk fell backwards.
Darcy lifted from the ground, springing upright on the tips
of her toes. Her milky eyes moved between the students,

(24:18):
then settled on Miss Kirk. Darcy's sneakers squelched on the
tile as she glided across the room. Holy shit, a
classmate exclaimed, Fuck the nurse get a priest. Darcy waved
her hand, sending a desk soaring towards the student and

(24:41):
smashing his skull between it and the wall. Darcy's spine
broke with a wet crunch as her head continued, turning
to face her fellow students. Pestis eram vivu us, she
growled inhumanly moriense du amorse aeroll. Nurse McBride stared up

(25:13):
at Hunter clinging to the ceiling. He smiled until his
cheeks tore open and his mouth stretched to an impossible width.
Luminescent green yellow vomit showered over the nurse. Her shoes
slipped in the chunky fluid. A rash of blisters broke

(25:35):
out across her skin. Roaches and worms squirmed in the vomit.
McBride screamed for help. Maggots wriggled from Hunter's pores, dropping
down onto the nurse. They squirmed vigorously from the weeping
blisters and chewed their way into her flash. Hunter dropped

(26:01):
from the ceiling, pinning McBride to the floor. She stared
into his ragged, gaping mouth, eyes shining like a cat's,
stared back at her from deep inside his throat. No
wonder his stomach had hurt.

Speaker 2 (26:23):
More scarce to come weekly, Spooky, We'll be right back.

Speaker 1 (26:31):
Chelsea banged on the door to the robotics lab. Mister
Clark was a total nerd and would surely be able
to help with Darcy, she thought. She threw the door open.
A number of students were convulsing on the floor. Others
were doing the same on the ceiling. Mister Clark tisked loudly.

(26:57):
This isn't your class, miss results, he said. Chelsea stood frozen,
Unable to find the words she needed. She shakily pointed
at the students. She wanted help, She wanted answers, She
wanted to say anything at all, but there weren't any

(27:19):
words made for that sort of thing. The teacher turned
to her. Clark's hollow eye sockets met her gaze. He
was smiling widely with the organs staring at Chelsea. Held
between his teeth, he bit down, crushing his eyeballs. Ocular

(27:43):
fluids spurted across Chelsea's blouse. She ran out of the room.
Blood drained out of a locker, causing her to slip
but not fall. At least three more lockers were leaking
around her. Chelsea thought of the missing students. She pulled

(28:04):
her phone from her pocket. The screen flashed and flickered
in a pixelated rainbow of colors. She spotted the fire
alarm on the wall and darted for it. Her fingers
stretched for the white handle. Someone caught her by the wrist.
The hand was delicate, but the grip was anything but.

(28:30):
Principal Wardlow tossed Chelsea's hand clear of the alarm. What
is the meaning of this, The prim principle demanded, Hi,
don't smell smoke out here. Something something is wrong, Chelsea stammered.

(28:50):
Everyone is fuck I don't know. They're sick. Okay, we
need help sick wardlow and gestured to the hall. They
look perfectly healthy to me, Chelsea. World around, the students
were filing out of the robotics lab. They crawled along

(29:14):
the walls and ceilings like spiders. Mister Clark stalked out
of the room on all fours. Classrooms filled with guttural
shouting in an unknown language. People screamed. A locker popped open,
spilling the mutilated corpse of a former classmate at Chelsea's feet.

(29:37):
Don't run, the principal said, this is your party, kiddo, Chelsea,
damn sure. Ran on the fifty yard line. Ethan clawed
away chunks of turf from the football field. Nurse McBride,

(30:01):
with her face hanging in ragged strips from her skull,
crawled onto the field. She sniffed at Ethan and snarled.
The teen continued his mad digging. Hunter dropped to his
other side. Their hands tore into the earth alongside Ethan's

(30:21):
more students came to their aid. A long shadow fell
over them. The silhouette removed its fedora as it watched
them work. In three hours, the final bell would ring,
buses would arrive, parents would be waiting outside. The task

(30:44):
had to be done before then. That was the deal
that had been struck. What is wrong with my phone?
Da whined, It's an android, Michelle answered, taking out her

(31:06):
new iPhone. Fuck. Her screen was an array of flashing colors.
Others had encountered the problem when they tried to film
Darcy levitating. That had been scary enough, but Michelle, Charie
and Dia got the hell out of there when she
started ripping off heads. Scharie kept her back to the

(31:30):
bathroom door to hold it shut. Dia paced the room.
Michelle threw her phone against one of the mirrors and
slunk into a stall. Are you trying to get us killed?
We have to stay quiet, Chari warned, you saw what
Darcy did. We need to call for help. All the

(31:53):
phones are broken. Dia said, why is she doing this?
Michelle's that bitch was always crazy. Schari pressed her ear
to the door. I don't hear anything. Maybe we should
make a run for it. We need to shelter in place.

(32:14):
Dia protested, just like the drills. Bad idea, the guttural
voice said from within the walls. Darcy's face, now festering
with sores, appeared in the broken mirror. She smiled. Her
teeth were stained with blood and black bile. The bathroom

(32:38):
door flung open, sliding Charie across the floor. Darcy floated
into the bathroom, dragging her toes. She rolled a severed
head like a bowling ball, to DIA's feet. If you
want to be popular, Darcy said, you gotta give a

(33:00):
little head. The ceiling tiles collapsed over the three girls,
and a cascade of large, hairy spiders showered down onto them.
The bathroom door slammed on its own. Darcy's laughter rattled
like stones in a blender. Dia stomped at the arachnids.

(33:24):
Then the lights went out. Ethan snapped the skeleton's fingers
off to free the Winchester shotgun. It felt at home
in his hands. He pushed the slide back to see

(33:44):
a shell still in the chamber. He stared at the
disembodied arm of a child. Mixed among the graves many bones.
Nurse McBride slipped the bandolier of extra ammunition over Ethan's
head and straightened it for him. The fifth period bell rang.

(34:07):
Those that hadn't been possessed or killed would be cowering inside,
praying for a rescue. The thing inside McBride snarled, it
knew all too well what it was like waiting to
be saved. They'd smoldered for millennia, spewing unanswered prayers. Themselves.

(34:32):
Hell's darkest soul had become their light. His revenge would
be their freedom. Legion would inherit the earth.

Speaker 2 (34:46):
If you're not afraid, then you're already dead. Weekly spooky,
We'll be right back.

Speaker 1 (34:54):
Chelsea watched through the locker vents as possessed students stalked
the for survivors. A shrill cry echoed down the corridor.
The students paused, growling lowly amongst themselves. Two freshmen sprinted
past Chelsea's hiding place. A possessed student drove one to

(35:18):
the floor. Others sprang at the teen's flailing limbs. Gunshots
echoed through the halls of the school. Chelsea almost screamed.
It had to be the cops. Someone's phone had worked
and they'd called for help. That was the only thing
that made sense, not that anything had to During a

(35:42):
demonic invasion, Chelsea broke from cover while the possessed were
busy ripping their victim apart. There was no shortage of
freshmen anyhow. Chelsea hurdled a skateboard that zipped across her path.
The rider, a future dropout named Kyle Long, winked at

(36:05):
her from the ceiling. Foamy saliva rolled down his inverted face,
etching the flesh to his hairline. Kyle dropped on to
the floor. He growled and gnashed his teeth, complete abism.

(36:25):
A snarl emanated from within him. Not that one, A
disembodied voice commanded, we have a deal. The others are
for you, but this one is mine. Non ducre duco,
Kyle's demon replied. The shotgun boomed. Kyle's head flopped to

(36:50):
the side, clinging to his body by ravaged muscle. The
second shot blasted him down the hallway. Chelsea looked down
the hall, expecting a savior. Instead, she saw Ethan Crow
racking a fresh shell into his shotgun. The flickering lights

(37:12):
cast a long shadow behind him, the shadow of a
man in a long coat and Fedora. Her knees shook
with a primal urge to spring into action, but she
held her ground. Ethan, she said, softly, you saved me.

(37:34):
The barrel shifted in her direction. Chelsea dived to the floor.
Kyle's black blood had turned the tile into a slipping
slide that carried her across the corridor. The shotgun blew
chunks out of the floor. Ethan let out an inhuman
scream as his prey scrambled to her feet and ran

(37:57):
for the stairwell. He drew a shell from the bandolier.
The century old plastic crumbled between his fingers, spilling powder
and shot at his feet. He sprinted after her. The
team took the stairs two and three at a time.
Ethan hurriedly loaded three rounds into the gun. His first

(38:22):
shot reduced a cinder block to dust inches from his target.
Chelsea flung herself over the handrail, falling the last ten
feet to the ground. She heard Ethan land behind her.
As she scrambled to her feet. Pain shot up her leg,

(38:43):
but she forced herself to hobble toward the daylight spilling
through the front entrance. The shotgun butt struck her neck
and she sprawled out onto the floor. The black slit
pupils of Ethan's yellow eyes gazed down on her. Venomous

(39:03):
saliva rolled off his teeth, trickling onto his bottom lip.
His shadow moved across the walls circling Chelsea. No more
running Resoli, the voice said through Ethan's mouth. Why Ethan,

(39:24):
not Ethan, it's he pursed his lips. I don't actually
recall one hundred years up here feels like a thousand
down there. Only name I remember is yours. I made

(39:44):
sure of that. Every day the imps ripped my skin
from my bones, and when it grew back, I carved
your name in anew to make sure I would never
forget who put me in that pit. I never did
anything to you, Chelsea whimpered. Guilt is in the blood.

(40:11):
Your blood knows me well. Ethan moved a hand to
his bare head, and the shadow tipped his hat. Time
to pay up riz. The shotgun man's silhouette peeled away
from Ethan to kneel beside Chelsea. His frozen fingers moved

(40:34):
the hair away from her face. He traced an oily
black x onto her forehead. He gripped a fistful of
her hair to keep her still, and turned to Ethan.
Don't miss, boy, he said. Ethan pressed the stock into

(40:57):
his shoulder. Tears ran down his chin as he lined
up the shot. The possessed students and faculty assembled behind
him to watch. When the deed was done, they'd be
free upon the world. Legions snarled and hissed with anticipation.

(41:20):
Ethan shook his head, mumbling apologies as he moved against
his will. The barrel of the gun stared at Chelsea
like a wide black eye. Ethan's fingers squeezed the trigger.
Nothing happened. He pumped the bad shell to the floor

(41:42):
and pumped in a new one. Chelsea swung her foot
up to his groin. The gun went off, blasting the
shotgun man's shadow. The immaterial spattered the floor. The shotgun
man stared at the shadow of his severed arm. A
distant memory followed him back from hell. The appendage melted

(42:06):
into a greasy puddle as he thought about that night
at the farmhouse. The shotgun man looked up to see
Chelsea limping away from him, but she was no longer alone.
A child held her hand, guiding her to the exit.

(42:26):
The ragged stump of the little boy's right arm dripped
sunlight onto the floor. Ethan fell to all fours, wretching violently.
The shotgun man watched the serpent spilling from the teen's mouth.
It coiled around itself, Its muscular, striped body withered, its

(42:49):
scales flaked from its rotting muscles. One of the possessed
fell from the ceiling, then another. The building trembled demand
when ex screams filled the corridors of the high school.
Sulfurous fog roiled from the lockers and classrooms. Hell had

(43:10):
noticed their absence. Do something, The shotgunman barked to the
assembled mob. Shadowy in human figures stood over the disoriented students.
Their glowing red eyes glared balefully at the shotgun man.
The yellow fog swirled around them, dragging them from the

(43:33):
hallway in a cacophony of screams and curses. A locker
creaked open behind the shotgun man. He glanced one last
time at his beloved weapon, and then to Chelsea as
she stepped out of the school. The final bell of

(43:53):
the day rang. Serpentine wisps of fog reached out of
the locker and wrapped around his form. We had a deal,
he whispered. The fog ripped him backwards, and the locker
slammed shut. Chelsea squinted against the afternoon sun at the

(44:20):
crowd gathered in front of the school. Emergency lights flashed
on top of police cars and fire trucks. The warm
grip of the child's hand faded, and she looked down
to find him missing entirely. The other students, the ones
who survived, began staggering out of the doors behind her.

(44:44):
Yellow tendrils of fog drifted around their feet and dissipated
into the air. The students stumbled around, murmuring amongst themselves.
No one remembered what had happened. No one knew why
they were filthy, or could taste the blood and meat

(45:04):
of their classmates still in their mouths. Chelsea sat on
the steps and hugged her knees to her chest. She
saw the one armed child walking through the throngs of
sobbing parents rushing to their children at the edge of

(45:25):
the lot. His family waited to take him home. Well.
The bell rang, but not everyone went home. The shadows
folded back into the walls for now. Huge thank you
to David O'Hanlon for such a truly mesmerizing and a

(45:49):
bit sticky of a back to school episode here at
Weekly Spooky, and thank you guys so much for tuning
in again. Make sure you're subscribed, because every Wednesday there's
a scary story for you to enjoy, and on Mondays
we have a brand new, terrifying and true story. Whether
it's folklore or true crime. There's always something fun to

(46:11):
chew on here at Weekly Spooky. And if you want
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(46:35):
and audiobooks, all for your perusal at Weeklyspooky dot Com
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(47:00):
we Met, Jack Kerr and Craig Cohen. Thank you all
from the bottom of my heart so very much. And
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your name out of my spooky, silky voice. But now

(47:22):
it's time for me to get back to work because
something special and scary is coming this Friday, so make
sure you're subscribed, and for myself, for my producer Dan Wilder,
my executive producers Rob Fields and Babbletopia dot com, and
my composer Ray Mattis. I'll talk at you later and
don't be late for class. It could be killer. Thank

(47:44):
you for listenings. Make sure to find your way back
next week Weekly, But for now you are safe, trust me.