October 14, 2025 • 3 mins
This killer, short zombie story was written by Sarah Marshal King.
Stay tuned for more stories. :) I'm back!
Due to reasons beyond my control, I'm not longer Spooky Boo Rhodes, SpookyBooRhodes, or Spooky Boo. The channel is Midnight Monsters. Enjoy!
A chilling exploration of humanity’s final surrender to the hunger within.
In Primordial Instinct, a lone survivor awakens after a brutal attack—cold, numb, and rotting from the inside out. As the fog of death thickens and her senses twist into something monstrous, she discovers the terrifying truth: she’s no longer prey. She’s part of the feast.
Told in Sarah Marshal King’s hauntingly visceral style, this tale drags listeners through the fragile line between life and the primal call of decay.
Thank you for enjoying my podcast! Take a listen to the other podcast at Candlelight Storyworks
Midnight Scares - Fall Asleep to Spooky Storiesl
Candlight Classics - Classic Short Stories to Help You Sleep
Candlelight Romance - Fall Asleep While Falling In Love
True Crime by Candlelight - Drift Off to Dark Mysteries
Find them all on your favorite podcast right here:
https://linktr.ee/candlelightstoryworks
If you are tired of commercials, you can always follow me on Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/candlelightstoryworks
I am also writing a few horror and gothic romance books. If you're intrested, please follow me on my other Patreon at
http://www.patreon.com/sarahmarshalking
**While this is my voice, sometimes I use an AI cloned version of my voice because it helps with my dyslexia.
Stay tuned for more stories. :) I'm back!
Due to reasons beyond my control, I'm not longer Spooky Boo Rhodes, SpookyBooRhodes, or Spooky Boo. The channel is Midnight Monsters. Enjoy!
A chilling exploration of humanity’s final surrender to the hunger within.
In Primordial Instinct, a lone survivor awakens after a brutal attack—cold, numb, and rotting from the inside out. As the fog of death thickens and her senses twist into something monstrous, she discovers the terrifying truth: she’s no longer prey. She’s part of the feast.
Told in Sarah Marshal King’s hauntingly visceral style, this tale drags listeners through the fragile line between life and the primal call of decay.
Thank you for enjoying my podcast! Take a listen to the other podcast at Candlelight Storyworks
Midnight Scares - Fall Asleep to Spooky Storiesl
Candlight Classics - Classic Short Stories to Help You Sleep
Candlelight Romance - Fall Asleep While Falling In Love
True Crime by Candlelight - Drift Off to Dark Mysteries
Find them all on your favorite podcast right here:
https://linktr.ee/candlelightstoryworks
If you are tired of commercials, you can always follow me on Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/candlelightstoryworks
I am also writing a few horror and gothic romance books. If you're intrested, please follow me on my other Patreon at
http://www.patreon.com/sarahmarshalking
**While this is my voice, sometimes I use an AI cloned version of my voice because it helps with my dyslexia.
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Hello there, I'm back to reach you some scary stories. Here.
I sit by the fire, listening to the storm outside,
and you are going to close your eyes and cover
up and enjoy a night's story.
Speaker 2 (00:23):
Primordial Instinct by Sarah Marshall King. The night air is
crisp and cool as your eyes flutter open to the
sound of your beating heart. The pounding is faster and
louder than it should be. Every beat feels like an explosion,
coming from the aching pain in your head. The last
(00:44):
thing you remember is someone attacking you from behind. The
excruciating pain of his teeth in your neck burned your
skin as your screams filled the night. Your fingers tore
at his face, pulling pieces of it all off with
your nails. You grabbed the largest rock you could find
and bashed it into his skull, hearing the sickening crack
(01:08):
of his cranium into his brain. Cold brain matter splashed
on your face as he fell to the ground. Then
you ran until your lungs burned and gave way to exhaustion.
The memory is dull and doesn't seem to matter anymore.
The festering wound in the back of your neck hurts
and you know you must get to a hospital. The
(01:31):
buzzing sound of a fly stops as you slap at
your neck and feel something cold ooze between your fingers. Confused,
you look at your hand. A sticky, dark green, almost
black substance that reeks of death and decay coats your
palm and slowly drips to the ground. You want to
(01:54):
get up, but you can't feel your legs or even
your arms. At this point, your useless limb ignore your
commands as you will yourself to move. What the hell
is wrong with me? You cry out to the empty night,
Somebody help me. Your voice carries and fades into the cold,
(02:14):
dark air. It echoes into the blackness of the quiet
city that ignores your pleas of help. You hear the
rustling sound of feet on the ground and incoherent grunts
of other people nearby, but no one comes to your aid.
The smell of rotting meat fills your senses as you
slowly push yourself up from the ground. Looking around, you
(02:37):
realize the stench is coming from your very own body.
You look down at your tattered clothes and ashen gray skin, and,
in a bolt of confusion and terror, the memory of
your attacker fades as the scent of fresh meat wafts
in front of you. On instinct, your legs carry you
to the origin of the delightful smell, and as you
(02:59):
stare at the others feasting upon the flesh of the
crying woman, your stomach aches in hunger. She stares at
you with watery eyes, seemingly unable to either run or scream.
Blood spatters over her neck and face from somewhere beneath
her shoulders. You follow the trail to the group of
rotting corpses feasting upon her intestines. Your brain screams no,
(03:24):
but the sound you hear from your lips is a
low grunt. As you fall down to your knees and
begin to tear at the woman's flesh, grabbing handfuls of
bloody entrails, your consciousness slowly fades into a little black
hole and ceases to exist.
Hello there, I'm back to reach you some scary stories. Here.
I sit by the fire, listening to the storm outside,
and you are going to close your eyes and cover
up and enjoy a night's story.
Speaker 2 (00:23):
Primordial Instinct by Sarah Marshall King. The night air is
crisp and cool as your eyes flutter open to the
sound of your beating heart. The pounding is faster and
louder than it should be. Every beat feels like an explosion,
coming from the aching pain in your head. The last
(00:44):
thing you remember is someone attacking you from behind. The
excruciating pain of his teeth in your neck burned your
skin as your screams filled the night. Your fingers tore
at his face, pulling pieces of it all off with
your nails. You grabbed the largest rock you could find
and bashed it into his skull, hearing the sickening crack
(01:08):
of his cranium into his brain. Cold brain matter splashed
on your face as he fell to the ground. Then
you ran until your lungs burned and gave way to exhaustion.
The memory is dull and doesn't seem to matter anymore.
The festering wound in the back of your neck hurts
and you know you must get to a hospital. The
(01:31):
buzzing sound of a fly stops as you slap at
your neck and feel something cold ooze between your fingers. Confused,
you look at your hand. A sticky, dark green, almost
black substance that reeks of death and decay coats your
palm and slowly drips to the ground. You want to
(01:54):
get up, but you can't feel your legs or even
your arms. At this point, your useless limb ignore your
commands as you will yourself to move. What the hell
is wrong with me? You cry out to the empty night,
Somebody help me. Your voice carries and fades into the cold,
(02:14):
dark air. It echoes into the blackness of the quiet
city that ignores your pleas of help. You hear the
rustling sound of feet on the ground and incoherent grunts
of other people nearby, but no one comes to your aid.
The smell of rotting meat fills your senses as you
slowly push yourself up from the ground. Looking around, you
(02:37):
realize the stench is coming from your very own body.
You look down at your tattered clothes and ashen gray skin, and,
in a bolt of confusion and terror, the memory of
your attacker fades as the scent of fresh meat wafts
in front of you. On instinct, your legs carry you
to the origin of the delightful smell, and as you
(02:59):
stare at the others feasting upon the flesh of the
crying woman, your stomach aches in hunger. She stares at
you with watery eyes, seemingly unable to either run or scream.
Blood spatters over her neck and face from somewhere beneath
her shoulders. You follow the trail to the group of
rotting corpses feasting upon her intestines. Your brain screams no,
(03:24):
but the sound you hear from your lips is a
low grunt. As you fall down to your knees and
begin to tear at the woman's flesh, grabbing handfuls of
bloody entrails, your consciousness slowly fades into a little black
hole and ceases to exist.
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