December 5, 2025 • 28 mins
When Matt finally confesses the truth about the advent calendar to Anika, she demands proof—but the trinket behind door number five sends them racing across town to the hospital, fearing they may already too late.
Get the print version of the novel: https://weirddarkness.com/AdventOfEvil
#WeirdDarkness #ChristmasHorror #HolidayHorror #SupernaturalThriller #HauntedCalendar #DarkChristmas #HorrorStory #DemonicEvil #CreepyTales #YuletideTerror
Get the print version of the novel: https://weirddarkness.com/AdventOfEvil
#WeirdDarkness #ChristmasHorror #HolidayHorror #SupernaturalThriller #HauntedCalendar #DarkChristmas #HorrorStory #DemonicEvil #CreepyTales #YuletideTerror
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:02):
Officer Matthew Kleines. December began with chaos, arresting his best
friend's son, Zach, for a violent attack at a local cafe,
then discovering mysterious advent calendar on his doorstep with no
sender and no explanation. The antique wooden relic arrived, wrapped
in festive paper, its twenty four doors concealing unknown surprises
(00:25):
and a carved bearded face with hollow eyes watching from
its center. Behind the first door was a miniature replica
of Matt's childhood at home, a house that burst into
flames in his palm, just as the real one had
burned thirty years ago. That night, a damaged child's voice
whispered through the darkness, Uncle David, can you hear us?
(00:48):
The second door revealed a red cardinal feather. Matt dismissed
it as harmless until he witnessed Pastor Hart's minivan crash
caused by a cardinal smashing through the windshield. His best
friend's simon revealed that Zack had been visited by a
strange young boy who smelled of campfire smoke, who had
convinced him to attack the cafe that night. When Matt
(01:10):
tried to open the third door early, A shadowy child
appeared in his living room with a chilling warning, one
day at a time, follow the rules, or the consequences
will be dire. The third door held a crystal star
throughout the day. Stars appeared everywhere on the main state
trooper's crest, on a jay Walker's street address, atop the
(01:34):
Nativity scene in Matt's home. When Matt checked the star again,
its five points were dipped in blood. Hours later, Bridget Carr,
the city planner and Matt's former academy friend, lay dead
beneath the thirty foot Christmas tree, the giant decorative star
embedded in her skull. Behind the fourth door, Matt found
(01:55):
a black and white police mugshot his uncle David, known
around Bayville as the Demon of Bayville. A mysterious burning
smell filled Marshport with no source to be found. The
shadowy figure returned, and Matt finally understood the horrifying truth.
It was his little brother, Stephen, killed in a house
(02:15):
fire thirty years ago on Christmas Eve, the fire that
started when two young boys used a spirit board to
contact their dead uncle and something terrible came through instead.
Four doors opened four days of December twenty doors still
Waiting in the past, Matt tried to Bury is clawing
(02:39):
its way back from the grave. Welcome Weirdos. I'm Darren
(03:16):
Marler and this is Weird Darkness's Advent of Evil, a
holiday horror novel written by Scott Donnelly based on a
concept from Darren Marler. Twenty four Doors, twenty four days,
twenty four secrets waiting in the darkness. Just like an
advent calendar counting down the Christmas, We'll unlock one chapter
(03:37):
each day, but what we find behind these doors may
not be the gift you're expecting. You can find all
available chapters, as well as the print version in paperback,
hardback or kindle, at Weird Darkness dot com slash Advent
of Evil. The calendar is waiting. Let's see what awaits
us behind today's door. Friday, December fifth. When I arrived
(04:05):
at work the next morning, I had a full load
of things on my mind, a full list of things
to look into, so I was hoping against all odds
that it was an uneventful day in Marshport, Like ninety
nine percent of the time. I found a free desk
with a computer and sat down, a hot cup of
the station's bland coffee by my side, and a somewhat
(04:28):
refreshing attitude toward everything that was going on. I'd spent
the week feeling uneasy, fearful, and distracted by the odd
surprise gift that showed up at my home, the one
that sheltered twenty four little secrets, each of them a
reminder of my traumatic past or a catalyst for something
dreadful and unforeseen to play out over the course of
(04:51):
the day. I purposefully chose not to open the little
door with the number five on it before I left
for work. I knew what whatever was in there would
torment my mind all day and send me spiraling into
a network of panicked thoughts trying to predict some curious,
bizarre event. Not today, though I needed a breather. I
(05:16):
turned on the computer screen in front of me. Whoever
had used at last had only shut off the monitor,
so the page that was still up was of regional news.
The page refreshed as I took a sip of my
coffee and came back with a mocking vengeance. The top
story showed a smiling, gleeful picture of bridget Car, but
the headline Marshport Police determined local death an accident. I
(05:41):
closed my eyes and took a deep breath, in complete
contrast to Bridget's smiling photo on the computer screen. When
my eyes were closed, all I could see was the
large star ornament embedded into her skull. Her body was
laid out in the snow, surrounded by blood and a
horde of police officers. I felt a chill, as if
(06:02):
I were right there again, standing in the snow beside
her body. I felt a wave of nausea flow through me,
followed by a light whiff of something burning. No, I thought,
not today. I opened my eyes and immediately clicked off
of the news page. The feeling of being back at
(06:23):
the crime scene dissipated immediately, along with the chill and
the illusory odor. The nausea, however, continued to linger. I
tried to remain focused, tried to keep a grasp on
the refreshing attitude I'd walked into the station with. I
had a job to do, research to conduct. I began
(06:44):
my search again for the Bayville house fire in nineteen
ninety five. The images were hard to look at, the blackened,
bony remains of my childhood home were laid out in
front of me like an endless slide show of horrors
and deep scars. I clicked until I found a news
article that was attached to one of the images. New
(07:05):
York house goes up in flames. Last night, a house
in Bayville, New York, burned to the ground, taking with
it three of the four occupants that lived there. Carter Norris,
Greta Norris, and their seven year old son, Stephen Norris,
all perished in the blaze. Their eldest son, ten year
old Matthew Norris, was able to make it out and
run to a neighbor's house for help. The cause of
(07:26):
the fire has yet to be determined, but the initial
findings from the Bayville Fire Department indicate that foul play
is not suspected. I clicked into another article from the
same source that was published two months later. Mystery thickens
and Bayville. The house fire that claimed the lives of
three people back on Christmas Eve remains a mystery to investigators.
(07:49):
Foul play was not suspected at the time, but since
then the investigation has unveiled a connection the family shared
with David Matthew Norris, who was better known as the
now deceased Demon of Bayville. Officials are now saying they
can't rule out a connection between the fire and Bayville's
localized serial killer. The words Demon of Bayville were highlighted
(08:12):
in the article with blue text indicating a link was attached.
I clicked the link and it took me to another
article published that same week with the title serial killers
family dies in house fire. Beneath the article title was
a larger, clearer version of the mugshot that I'd received
yesterday courtesy of the Aberrant Advent Calendar. It was my
(08:34):
uncle David, after he was caught and revealed to be
a serial murderer. I couldn't help but think back again
on the memories I had of him, all of them
warm and calming. Uncle David was a fond uncle, a
kind soul who Stephen and I were always excited to see.
We didn't know what he did for a living, but
(08:56):
he would tell us stories about his thrifting hobby, which
took him all over the state of New York. It
was something he was proud of, something that made him happy,
and to Stephen and I seemed like a very unique interest.
Then one day he was gone, just gone, no one
talked about him anymore, and if his name was brought
(09:17):
up by either Stephen or I in casual conversation, it
was usually met with side eye glances and awkward silences.
It made Stephen and I feel weird and uncomfortable, like
maybe we had crossed a line that we didn't even
know was there, But to us it was just innocent
and unaware curiosity. It all made sense now. Of course,
(09:42):
as a parent, I would have probably done the same thing,
or at least something similar. David was a serial killer
who would strangle the life out of his victims, then,
on more than one occasion, removed their eyes. I don't
blame my family for not wanting to discuss him around
Stephen and I at our ages, especially since we had
so many fond memories of him that they didn't want
(10:04):
to taint with such gruesome details. A hand rested on
my shoulder and I jumped, clicking out of the news
article on the screen. I spun around to see Lieutenant
Sears looming over me. You're in early, he said, very
matter of factly. I turned off the monitor and stood up.
I am, I said, I couldn't sleep. Lieutenant Sears nodded.
(10:26):
I can imagine you've been through a lot this week
between Zach and Bridget. You know, why don't you go home, Matt,
get some rest, come back Monday, and you'll feel like
a new man. I stood up. Are you sure, I asked, absolutely,
Sears said, we got everything covered here, go home, rest up,
watch some Christmas movies with the family. I can see
(10:49):
the stress building in you. Everyone needs a break once
in a while, especially in our line of work. I
wasn't going to fight him. Truth was, work was the
last place I wanted to be, and beneath my determination
to have a better day, dread was already starting to
seethe with the waves of nausea. The advent calendar kept
(11:09):
coming back to the forefront of my mind, looming there
like an unwonted phantom. I do have some good news, though,
Sears said, piquing my interest. Just Scott word this morning
that the two car crash victims from Tuesday are being
released from the hospital later today. That's great news, I said,
with relief. I thought back to the accident outside of
(11:31):
the frying Nest, where a pastor Hart and another woman
had collided because of a cardinal The momentary relief. I
felt vanished once the cardinal entered my mind. It was
directly connected to the feather I pulled out of the
calendar that morning. I looked up at Sears and nodded,
thank you again, Lieutenant. I'll see you on Monday. I
(11:51):
left quickly before anyone could see the dread and fear
that was swelling within me. Once I was in my car,
I tried to compose myself. My heart was racing and
my skin was flush. I took a few deep breaths
and tried my hardest to not to fall victim to
a panic attack. Once I was pasted the worst of it,
(12:12):
I drove straight home. After Mason and Logan hopped on
the bus to school. I sat at the kitchen table
with fresh brood coffee. Annika sat across from me, making
pancakes for the both of us. I scarfed a whole
stack and she put a few more on my plate.
Do you want to talk about it? She asked in
a calm, supportive way. I knew what she was referring to.
(12:35):
She wanted me to open up more about bridget As
I chewed my pancakes, I contemplated how much I wanted
to tell her I knew one thing would lead to
another if I started down that rabbit hole. She was
your friend, Annika said, as I continued to chew. That
must have been so horrible to see. I am so sorry, Matthew.
(12:57):
I nodded, swallowed my food and chased it with a
sip of coffee. Thanks, I said, I took a deep
breath and started talking. I'd known her for like twenty years.
When I moved here to Marshport. We both went to
the police academy. I made it through. She didn't, mostly
(13:17):
because of how much she was partying. She just couldn't
keep up. But she loved Marshport and wanted to make
a difference here regardless, so she started working for the
city and eventually became the city planner. Annaka nursed her
coffee and then rested it gently back down on the table.
She liked, you, huh, what do you mean? I'm not blind, matt.
(13:38):
I'd seen her flirt with you before on many occasions. Actually,
I sparked, knowing this conversation was inevitable. At some point
she did. I admitted. We had a very brief fling
back in the academy, but that was it. Absolutely nothing
since you and I have been together. Annaka chuckled. I know,
(13:59):
she said, I never thought you'd do anything like that,
but I can always tell she had feelings for you.
I nodded and took another sip. Yeah, I said, thinking
back to just earlier this week when she touched my
arm and blushed around me. I kind of got that
impression from time to time too. It does seem like
you were really upset by her death, though, Annik said,
(14:22):
After knowing someone for that long, I can totally understand
why I felt numb. Sure, seeing Bridget dead with a
star sticking out of her skull would have been enough
to upset anyone, especially Andy. One was such a long
shared history. But there was so much more making me
upset and uneasy than just Bridget being killed. It was
(14:45):
how she was killed and how that connected back to
the Advent calendar that ominously inhabited the next room. Remember
the star that came out of the Advent calendar, I
asked Annika. Yeah, and then later in the day there
was blood on each of its points. Annako was listening.
Bridget was killed by the star that was going on
(15:08):
top of the town center tree. It fell somehow and
stabbed her in the head. I explained, the blood on
the little advent star didn't show up until after she
was dead. Annika scrunched her face. What are you What
does that mean? The star from the calendar foretold her death,
and then when it did happen, it was covered with blood.
(15:32):
Annaka tried to make sense out of what I was
telling her. I could see it in her eye movement,
her facial expressions, and finally, with the soft dismissive chuckle,
she released, Well, that's got to be a coincidence, she
said through the soft laugh. I shook my head, realizing
that there was only one way for Anaka to believe me.
(15:52):
Remember the feather, the red one, she nodded. That same day,
there was a car accident at the corner of Lion
Sorrento passed her Heart's accident, a cardinal that hit one
of the cars which caused the accident. Annaka tilted her head. Okay,
she said, so too, coincidences. No, I sternly said, they
(16:17):
aren't coincidences. Anka. That calendar showing up at our house
wasn't an accident. It was deliberate and it was meant
for me. Annika shook her head. Why do you say
that that sounds a little crazy, I finished her sentence.
I exhaled through my nose as I decided to fill
her in completely. The other two things that came from
(16:38):
the calendar, first a little house trinket on day one,
and then yesterday it was a mugshot. They directly connect
to me. Annica laughed, but it wasn't anything directed at
me or the situation. It was very clearly nervous laughter. Okay,
she said, explain. The house trinket was an exact replica
(16:59):
of the when I grew up in when I was little.
It burned down, just like the one from the calendar.
And then the mugshot from yesterday, it was of my uncle.
He was a serial killer. A look of pure ignorance
and tobiety overcame Anika. She remained silent as she tried
her best to understand the things I told her. I
(17:20):
knew they would probably come as a shock to her.
I never told her that my childhood house burned down,
and I certainly never told her that my uncle was
a serial killer. Annaka pushed herself away from the table
and stood up. Are you joking? I shook my head,
retaining eye contact with her After all of these years,
not once did you think any of that was important
(17:42):
to tell me. I've had a hard time dealing with
it all. I said, that's what I'm here for, Matthew.
I'm your wife, your best friend. You can tell me anything.
We could work through anything together. I just looked up
at her with glazed eyes. My past has been something
I've been trying to forget and avoid for such a
(18:04):
long time. I said, there's so much darkness there, and
until that Advent calendar showed up, I've been pretty successful
at it. Now it's like the floodgates have opened or
completely shattered, and I don't know why. Annaka looked over
me and toward the living room, where I knew the
Advent calendar was. She then looked back at me. They
(18:25):
have a lot more questions for you, she said, but
first let's see what's behind the next door. I followed
Anaka into the living room, keeping a guarded distance between us.
I could tell she was upset and that I was
going to have to answer a slew of other questions
now that this huge can of worms was open. I
(18:46):
was sure she would want to know more about the fire,
more about my uncle and his crimes. All of that
would lead to her finding out that my family died
in the fire and my real last name was Norris
and not Kleine. I wasn't ready for any of it.
A heavy wave of nausea returned. Annaka positioned herself next
(19:07):
to the calendar. The first four doors had already been open,
and all sat slightly. Ajar, Today's the fifth, right, she asked.
Then she reached for the little black handle. She tried
to pull it, but it wasn't opening. She scoffed. Oh
that's right. Only the strongest person in the univer s
can open it. I looked at her, staring deeply into
(19:29):
her eyes. And doesn't that seem odd to you? I asked.
I could tell she wanted to agree with me, but
she remained strong and focused. Open it, she said, and
let's see if whatever is in there means something to
you and your secret past, or if it's something that'll
cause another accident today. I just stood there several feet away,
(19:52):
nervous to go through with what she was asking of me.
As much as Annaka was angry and confused about the situation,
I knew what opening that little door would really mean
it would mean unlocking another traumatizing memory, or it would
set the stage for more unexpected violence in Marshport. I'm afraid,
(20:14):
I said, I'm afraid for myself, for you, the boys.
What if I don't open it? Of course, I thought,
what if I didn't open it? Would that stop all
of this, prevent things from happening, put a stop to
the advent Calendar's vicious scheme. Annika shook her head. That's
not an option right now, she said. If you want
(20:37):
me to believe you, you need to open it and
prove this little theory of yours. I swallowed my nerves,
which had all collected a massive lump in my throat,
and I stepped toward the calendar with a shaky hand.
I reached out and pinched the black handle on door
number five. I pulled back, and the door opened again
with ease. I looked at Anika, trying to reinforce the
(20:59):
fact that it was odd that only I could open
the doors with such little effort. She adjusted in place,
still holding back on the admittance that I was right
with my fingers. I reached in and pulled out a
small bloody cross. I held it up, showing Annika and
studying it myself. It was made of metal, like a
(21:22):
forbidding monopoly piece. More blood, she said, surprise in her voice. Yes,
I thought, more blood. The last time there was blood,
it meant someone had died. What does the cross mean
to you, Annika asked, her crossed arms loosening with skittish anticipation.
The cross itself didn't mean anything to me personally, but
(21:44):
common knowledge would connect the cross to the church, to
the pastor that was being released from the hospital. The
pet pastor a heart, I stammered, I think he's in danger.
I watched a look of concern wash over Anika's face
past her heart. She asked softly, as if double checking
that she heard me correctly. He's being released from the
(22:06):
hospital today, I said, I need to make sure he's okay.
I chucked the metal cross down on the table and
raced for my keys. Annaka hurried behind me. I'm coming
with you, she said, with a rush of adrenaline. I
grabbed my keys from the wicker basket and stared at her.
Are you sure, i asked, afraid of what I was
possibly going to walk into. I wasn't sure if Anika
(22:27):
being there was a good idea or not, I'm sure,
she said, Grabbing her coat from the coat rack, she
wrapped it around her and tossed the hood over her head.
Come on, she said, hurrying me along. I grabbed my
coat and together we left the house. I was numb
as we drove across town to Marshport General Hospital. Annika
(22:50):
and I didn't say a whole lot to each other.
I was anxious and afraid of what could have already
happened to past her heart. The blood on the cross,
to me, indicated something horrible had already taken place. Annika
remained silent, staring out the window at the flurries that
raced by us. I knew she wasn't sure what to
make of everything. I was sure there were feelings of doubt,
(23:13):
deception on my end, and even an unknown fear for
Pastor Hart as well. When we pulled into Marshport General's
parking lot, we both hurried in, but not in a
way that would cause alarm. I wanted to remain somewhat optimistic,
as hard as that was. I asked the woman at
the front desk which floor the pastor was on, and
(23:34):
within seconds Annika and I were in an elevator on
our way to the third floor. Halfway down the hall
was his room. The door was closed when we got there,
so I knocked. A moment later, a woman in her
early thirties opened the door. It was Pastor Hart's daughter, Ruby.
She smiled when she saw us. Nika, maythe you. It's
so nice of you to come to visit, Ruby said,
(23:56):
is he okay? I quickly asked. Ruby turned her head
and glanced back into the room. I looked pastor, as
did Annika, and we both saw the old pastor standing
up from his bed. When he saw us, he smiled
and waved. He's doing great, Ruby said, with a smile.
I was actually getting ready to take him home. We
just got cleared. I heard Annaka sigh in relief next
(24:19):
to me. I was able to breathe a little easier
to We're so glad he's okay, Annika said, walking into
the room. I remained at the door, though, watching Pastor
Hart smile and give Annika a hug. You know, he's
very thankful that you were there after the accident, Ruby
said to me. He said, you were like a guardian
angel that day, right place, right time. I said, I'm
(24:43):
just happy he's okay. As I watched Pastor Hart and
Anika converse, the sounds of their words and laughter transitioned
into fuzzy static in my ears. I too, was relieved
that he was okay. He seemed fine, perfectly fine. But
I knew the Advent Calendar well at this point, and
I knew whatever that bloody cross represented was significant. If
(25:07):
it didn't have to do with Pastor Heart, I wondered
what else it could stand for, something with the church.
Perhaps I didn't want to jump to conclusions again, but
something definitely felt wrong. It felt like I was purposefuly
being deceived, like the Advent Calendar was having a laugh
at my expense. Ruby had started speaking again as well,
(25:29):
but all I could hear was static noise. Slowly, my
hearing came back and I was able to focus on
our words. Matthew, did you hear me? Ruby asked. I
shook away the hayze i'd fallen into and looked at her.
I'm sorry what I was wondering? If we'll see at
service this Sunday? She repeated for a second or perhaps
third time, Yeah, I said, we'll be there. You know,
(25:53):
we like to come every Sunday. This time of year,
you should come more than that, she added with a wink,
before returning to the room with her father and Anika.
I stepped back into the hallway and called Lewis Chambers
on my phone. Met you good, brother, Lewis answered, yeah,
I said, Sears said I could head home early today.
(26:14):
All right, good you had some of us worried. Sears
didn't say anything about that. Nope, ah, good man. I said, Hey,
any weird calls today? I heard Lewis moving about on
the other line before he returned his attention to me. No,
I don't think so. Why. I just had a bad
(26:34):
feeling and wanted to satisfy my curiosity. Well, if my
friend died in such a horrible way, I think I'd
be over worried about things too, he said, Any word
on Bridget's funeral arrangements yet, I haven't heard, I said.
I took a breath and continued, Well, if anything crazy happens,
(26:55):
will let me know. Shere a thing, brother, I got you, Thanks,
I said, and then ended the call. As I slipped
the phone back into my pocket, I looked into the
hospital room, where Aniko was still talking new Pastor Hart
and Ruby A knot was twisted in my stomach and
sitting deep in my gut, swallowed hard, fighting the ceaseless
(27:17):
surge of nausea. The Advent calendar was up to something
I knew it was. I had the awful, grim feeling
that's somewhere out there in Marshport someone else was already dead.
Thanks for listening. If you like what you're hearing, please
share it with someone you know who loves scary stories
(27:38):
at Christmas time. If you like to read the full
novel for yourself in print, it's available in paperback, hardback,
and kindle versions at Weird Darkness dot com slash Advent
of Evil. That's also where you can go to hear
each of the twenty four chapters as they're posted. I'm
Darren Marler. Thanks for celebrating Advent with me in the
(27:59):
Weird Artness
Officer Matthew Kleines. December began with chaos, arresting his best
friend's son, Zach, for a violent attack at a local cafe,
then discovering mysterious advent calendar on his doorstep with no
sender and no explanation. The antique wooden relic arrived, wrapped
in festive paper, its twenty four doors concealing unknown surprises
(00:25):
and a carved bearded face with hollow eyes watching from
its center. Behind the first door was a miniature replica
of Matt's childhood at home, a house that burst into
flames in his palm, just as the real one had
burned thirty years ago. That night, a damaged child's voice
whispered through the darkness, Uncle David, can you hear us?
(00:48):
The second door revealed a red cardinal feather. Matt dismissed
it as harmless until he witnessed Pastor Hart's minivan crash
caused by a cardinal smashing through the windshield. His best
friend's simon revealed that Zack had been visited by a
strange young boy who smelled of campfire smoke, who had
convinced him to attack the cafe that night. When Matt
(01:10):
tried to open the third door early, A shadowy child
appeared in his living room with a chilling warning, one
day at a time, follow the rules, or the consequences
will be dire. The third door held a crystal star
throughout the day. Stars appeared everywhere on the main state
trooper's crest, on a jay Walker's street address, atop the
(01:34):
Nativity scene in Matt's home. When Matt checked the star again,
its five points were dipped in blood. Hours later, Bridget Carr,
the city planner and Matt's former academy friend, lay dead
beneath the thirty foot Christmas tree, the giant decorative star
embedded in her skull. Behind the fourth door, Matt found
(01:55):
a black and white police mugshot his uncle David, known
around Bayville as the Demon of Bayville. A mysterious burning
smell filled Marshport with no source to be found. The
shadowy figure returned, and Matt finally understood the horrifying truth.
It was his little brother, Stephen, killed in a house
(02:15):
fire thirty years ago on Christmas Eve, the fire that
started when two young boys used a spirit board to
contact their dead uncle and something terrible came through instead.
Four doors opened four days of December twenty doors still
Waiting in the past, Matt tried to Bury is clawing
(02:39):
its way back from the grave. Welcome Weirdos. I'm Darren
(03:16):
Marler and this is Weird Darkness's Advent of Evil, a
holiday horror novel written by Scott Donnelly based on a
concept from Darren Marler. Twenty four Doors, twenty four days,
twenty four secrets waiting in the darkness. Just like an
advent calendar counting down the Christmas, We'll unlock one chapter
(03:37):
each day, but what we find behind these doors may
not be the gift you're expecting. You can find all
available chapters, as well as the print version in paperback,
hardback or kindle, at Weird Darkness dot com slash Advent
of Evil. The calendar is waiting. Let's see what awaits
us behind today's door. Friday, December fifth. When I arrived
(04:05):
at work the next morning, I had a full load
of things on my mind, a full list of things
to look into, so I was hoping against all odds
that it was an uneventful day in Marshport, Like ninety
nine percent of the time. I found a free desk
with a computer and sat down, a hot cup of
the station's bland coffee by my side, and a somewhat
(04:28):
refreshing attitude toward everything that was going on. I'd spent
the week feeling uneasy, fearful, and distracted by the odd
surprise gift that showed up at my home, the one
that sheltered twenty four little secrets, each of them a
reminder of my traumatic past or a catalyst for something
dreadful and unforeseen to play out over the course of
(04:51):
the day. I purposefully chose not to open the little
door with the number five on it before I left
for work. I knew what whatever was in there would
torment my mind all day and send me spiraling into
a network of panicked thoughts trying to predict some curious,
bizarre event. Not today, though I needed a breather. I
(05:16):
turned on the computer screen in front of me. Whoever
had used at last had only shut off the monitor,
so the page that was still up was of regional news.
The page refreshed as I took a sip of my
coffee and came back with a mocking vengeance. The top
story showed a smiling, gleeful picture of bridget Car, but
the headline Marshport Police determined local death an accident. I
(05:41):
closed my eyes and took a deep breath, in complete
contrast to Bridget's smiling photo on the computer screen. When
my eyes were closed, all I could see was the
large star ornament embedded into her skull. Her body was
laid out in the snow, surrounded by blood and a
horde of police officers. I felt a chill, as if
(06:02):
I were right there again, standing in the snow beside
her body. I felt a wave of nausea flow through me,
followed by a light whiff of something burning. No, I thought,
not today. I opened my eyes and immediately clicked off
of the news page. The feeling of being back at
(06:23):
the crime scene dissipated immediately, along with the chill and
the illusory odor. The nausea, however, continued to linger. I
tried to remain focused, tried to keep a grasp on
the refreshing attitude I'd walked into the station with. I
had a job to do, research to conduct. I began
(06:44):
my search again for the Bayville house fire in nineteen
ninety five. The images were hard to look at, the blackened,
bony remains of my childhood home were laid out in
front of me like an endless slide show of horrors
and deep scars. I clicked until I found a news
article that was attached to one of the images. New
(07:05):
York house goes up in flames. Last night, a house
in Bayville, New York, burned to the ground, taking with
it three of the four occupants that lived there. Carter Norris,
Greta Norris, and their seven year old son, Stephen Norris,
all perished in the blaze. Their eldest son, ten year
old Matthew Norris, was able to make it out and
run to a neighbor's house for help. The cause of
(07:26):
the fire has yet to be determined, but the initial
findings from the Bayville Fire Department indicate that foul play
is not suspected. I clicked into another article from the
same source that was published two months later. Mystery thickens
and Bayville. The house fire that claimed the lives of
three people back on Christmas Eve remains a mystery to investigators.
(07:49):
Foul play was not suspected at the time, but since
then the investigation has unveiled a connection the family shared
with David Matthew Norris, who was better known as the
now deceased Demon of Bayville. Officials are now saying they
can't rule out a connection between the fire and Bayville's
localized serial killer. The words Demon of Bayville were highlighted
(08:12):
in the article with blue text indicating a link was attached.
I clicked the link and it took me to another
article published that same week with the title serial killers
family dies in house fire. Beneath the article title was
a larger, clearer version of the mugshot that I'd received
yesterday courtesy of the Aberrant Advent Calendar. It was my
(08:34):
uncle David, after he was caught and revealed to be
a serial murderer. I couldn't help but think back again
on the memories I had of him, all of them
warm and calming. Uncle David was a fond uncle, a
kind soul who Stephen and I were always excited to see.
We didn't know what he did for a living, but
(08:56):
he would tell us stories about his thrifting hobby, which
took him all over the state of New York. It
was something he was proud of, something that made him happy,
and to Stephen and I seemed like a very unique interest.
Then one day he was gone, just gone, no one
talked about him anymore, and if his name was brought
(09:17):
up by either Stephen or I in casual conversation, it
was usually met with side eye glances and awkward silences.
It made Stephen and I feel weird and uncomfortable, like
maybe we had crossed a line that we didn't even
know was there, But to us it was just innocent
and unaware curiosity. It all made sense now. Of course,
(09:42):
as a parent, I would have probably done the same thing,
or at least something similar. David was a serial killer
who would strangle the life out of his victims, then,
on more than one occasion, removed their eyes. I don't
blame my family for not wanting to discuss him around
Stephen and I at our ages, especially since we had
so many fond memories of him that they didn't want
(10:04):
to taint with such gruesome details. A hand rested on
my shoulder and I jumped, clicking out of the news
article on the screen. I spun around to see Lieutenant
Sears looming over me. You're in early, he said, very
matter of factly. I turned off the monitor and stood up.
I am, I said, I couldn't sleep. Lieutenant Sears nodded.
(10:26):
I can imagine you've been through a lot this week
between Zach and Bridget. You know, why don't you go home, Matt,
get some rest, come back Monday, and you'll feel like
a new man. I stood up. Are you sure, I asked, absolutely,
Sears said, we got everything covered here, go home, rest up,
watch some Christmas movies with the family. I can see
(10:49):
the stress building in you. Everyone needs a break once
in a while, especially in our line of work. I
wasn't going to fight him. Truth was, work was the
last place I wanted to be, and beneath my determination
to have a better day, dread was already starting to
seethe with the waves of nausea. The advent calendar kept
(11:09):
coming back to the forefront of my mind, looming there
like an unwonted phantom. I do have some good news, though,
Sears said, piquing my interest. Just Scott word this morning
that the two car crash victims from Tuesday are being
released from the hospital later today. That's great news, I said,
with relief. I thought back to the accident outside of
(11:31):
the frying Nest, where a pastor Hart and another woman
had collided because of a cardinal The momentary relief. I
felt vanished once the cardinal entered my mind. It was
directly connected to the feather I pulled out of the
calendar that morning. I looked up at Sears and nodded,
thank you again, Lieutenant. I'll see you on Monday. I
(11:51):
left quickly before anyone could see the dread and fear
that was swelling within me. Once I was in my car,
I tried to compose myself. My heart was racing and
my skin was flush. I took a few deep breaths
and tried my hardest to not to fall victim to
a panic attack. Once I was pasted the worst of it,
(12:12):
I drove straight home. After Mason and Logan hopped on
the bus to school. I sat at the kitchen table
with fresh brood coffee. Annika sat across from me, making
pancakes for the both of us. I scarfed a whole
stack and she put a few more on my plate.
Do you want to talk about it? She asked in
a calm, supportive way. I knew what she was referring to.
(12:35):
She wanted me to open up more about bridget As
I chewed my pancakes, I contemplated how much I wanted
to tell her I knew one thing would lead to
another if I started down that rabbit hole. She was
your friend, Annika said, as I continued to chew. That
must have been so horrible to see. I am so sorry, Matthew.
(12:57):
I nodded, swallowed my food and chased it with a
sip of coffee. Thanks, I said, I took a deep
breath and started talking. I'd known her for like twenty years.
When I moved here to Marshport. We both went to
the police academy. I made it through. She didn't, mostly
(13:17):
because of how much she was partying. She just couldn't
keep up. But she loved Marshport and wanted to make
a difference here regardless, so she started working for the
city and eventually became the city planner. Annaka nursed her
coffee and then rested it gently back down on the table.
She liked, you, huh, what do you mean? I'm not blind, matt.
(13:38):
I'd seen her flirt with you before on many occasions. Actually,
I sparked, knowing this conversation was inevitable. At some point
she did. I admitted. We had a very brief fling
back in the academy, but that was it. Absolutely nothing
since you and I have been together. Annaka chuckled. I know,
(13:59):
she said, I never thought you'd do anything like that,
but I can always tell she had feelings for you.
I nodded and took another sip. Yeah, I said, thinking
back to just earlier this week when she touched my
arm and blushed around me. I kind of got that
impression from time to time too. It does seem like
you were really upset by her death, though, Annik said,
(14:22):
After knowing someone for that long, I can totally understand
why I felt numb. Sure, seeing Bridget dead with a
star sticking out of her skull would have been enough
to upset anyone, especially Andy. One was such a long
shared history. But there was so much more making me
upset and uneasy than just Bridget being killed. It was
(14:45):
how she was killed and how that connected back to
the Advent calendar that ominously inhabited the next room. Remember
the star that came out of the Advent calendar, I
asked Annika. Yeah, and then later in the day there
was blood on each of its points. Annako was listening.
Bridget was killed by the star that was going on
(15:08):
top of the town center tree. It fell somehow and
stabbed her in the head. I explained, the blood on
the little advent star didn't show up until after she
was dead. Annika scrunched her face. What are you What
does that mean? The star from the calendar foretold her death,
and then when it did happen, it was covered with blood.
(15:32):
Annaka tried to make sense out of what I was
telling her. I could see it in her eye movement,
her facial expressions, and finally, with the soft dismissive chuckle,
she released, Well, that's got to be a coincidence, she
said through the soft laugh. I shook my head, realizing
that there was only one way for Anaka to believe me.
(15:52):
Remember the feather, the red one, she nodded. That same day,
there was a car accident at the corner of Lion
Sorrento passed her Heart's accident, a cardinal that hit one
of the cars which caused the accident. Annaka tilted her head. Okay,
she said, so too, coincidences. No, I sternly said, they
(16:17):
aren't coincidences. Anka. That calendar showing up at our house
wasn't an accident. It was deliberate and it was meant
for me. Annika shook her head. Why do you say
that that sounds a little crazy, I finished her sentence.
I exhaled through my nose as I decided to fill
her in completely. The other two things that came from
(16:38):
the calendar, first a little house trinket on day one,
and then yesterday it was a mugshot. They directly connect
to me. Annica laughed, but it wasn't anything directed at
me or the situation. It was very clearly nervous laughter. Okay,
she said, explain. The house trinket was an exact replica
(16:59):
of the when I grew up in when I was little.
It burned down, just like the one from the calendar.
And then the mugshot from yesterday, it was of my uncle.
He was a serial killer. A look of pure ignorance
and tobiety overcame Anika. She remained silent as she tried
her best to understand the things I told her. I
(17:20):
knew they would probably come as a shock to her.
I never told her that my childhood house burned down,
and I certainly never told her that my uncle was
a serial killer. Annaka pushed herself away from the table
and stood up. Are you joking? I shook my head,
retaining eye contact with her After all of these years,
not once did you think any of that was important
(17:42):
to tell me. I've had a hard time dealing with
it all. I said, that's what I'm here for, Matthew.
I'm your wife, your best friend. You can tell me anything.
We could work through anything together. I just looked up
at her with glazed eyes. My past has been something
I've been trying to forget and avoid for such a
(18:04):
long time. I said, there's so much darkness there, and
until that Advent calendar showed up, I've been pretty successful
at it. Now it's like the floodgates have opened or
completely shattered, and I don't know why. Annaka looked over
me and toward the living room, where I knew the
Advent calendar was. She then looked back at me. They
(18:25):
have a lot more questions for you, she said, but
first let's see what's behind the next door. I followed
Anaka into the living room, keeping a guarded distance between us.
I could tell she was upset and that I was
going to have to answer a slew of other questions
now that this huge can of worms was open. I
(18:46):
was sure she would want to know more about the fire,
more about my uncle and his crimes. All of that
would lead to her finding out that my family died
in the fire and my real last name was Norris
and not Kleine. I wasn't ready for any of it.
A heavy wave of nausea returned. Annaka positioned herself next
(19:07):
to the calendar. The first four doors had already been open,
and all sat slightly. Ajar, Today's the fifth, right, she asked.
Then she reached for the little black handle. She tried
to pull it, but it wasn't opening. She scoffed. Oh
that's right. Only the strongest person in the univer s
can open it. I looked at her, staring deeply into
(19:29):
her eyes. And doesn't that seem odd to you? I asked.
I could tell she wanted to agree with me, but
she remained strong and focused. Open it, she said, and
let's see if whatever is in there means something to
you and your secret past, or if it's something that'll
cause another accident today. I just stood there several feet away,
(19:52):
nervous to go through with what she was asking of me.
As much as Annaka was angry and confused about the situation,
I knew what opening that little door would really mean
it would mean unlocking another traumatizing memory, or it would
set the stage for more unexpected violence in Marshport. I'm afraid,
(20:14):
I said, I'm afraid for myself, for you, the boys.
What if I don't open it? Of course, I thought,
what if I didn't open it? Would that stop all
of this, prevent things from happening, put a stop to
the advent Calendar's vicious scheme. Annika shook her head. That's
not an option right now, she said. If you want
(20:37):
me to believe you, you need to open it and
prove this little theory of yours. I swallowed my nerves,
which had all collected a massive lump in my throat,
and I stepped toward the calendar with a shaky hand.
I reached out and pinched the black handle on door
number five. I pulled back, and the door opened again
with ease. I looked at Anika, trying to reinforce the
(20:59):
fact that it was odd that only I could open
the doors with such little effort. She adjusted in place,
still holding back on the admittance that I was right
with my fingers. I reached in and pulled out a
small bloody cross. I held it up, showing Annika and
studying it myself. It was made of metal, like a
(21:22):
forbidding monopoly piece. More blood, she said, surprise in her voice. Yes,
I thought, more blood. The last time there was blood,
it meant someone had died. What does the cross mean
to you, Annika asked, her crossed arms loosening with skittish anticipation.
The cross itself didn't mean anything to me personally, but
(21:44):
common knowledge would connect the cross to the church, to
the pastor that was being released from the hospital. The
pet pastor a heart, I stammered, I think he's in danger.
I watched a look of concern wash over Anika's face
past her heart. She asked softly, as if double checking
that she heard me correctly. He's being released from the
(22:06):
hospital today, I said, I need to make sure he's okay.
I chucked the metal cross down on the table and
raced for my keys. Annaka hurried behind me. I'm coming
with you, she said, with a rush of adrenaline. I
grabbed my keys from the wicker basket and stared at her.
Are you sure, i asked, afraid of what I was
possibly going to walk into. I wasn't sure if Anika
(22:27):
being there was a good idea or not, I'm sure,
she said, Grabbing her coat from the coat rack, she
wrapped it around her and tossed the hood over her head.
Come on, she said, hurrying me along. I grabbed my
coat and together we left the house. I was numb
as we drove across town to Marshport General Hospital. Annika
(22:50):
and I didn't say a whole lot to each other.
I was anxious and afraid of what could have already
happened to past her heart. The blood on the cross,
to me, indicated something horrible had already taken place. Annika
remained silent, staring out the window at the flurries that
raced by us. I knew she wasn't sure what to
make of everything. I was sure there were feelings of doubt,
(23:13):
deception on my end, and even an unknown fear for
Pastor Hart as well. When we pulled into Marshport General's
parking lot, we both hurried in, but not in a
way that would cause alarm. I wanted to remain somewhat optimistic,
as hard as that was. I asked the woman at
the front desk which floor the pastor was on, and
(23:34):
within seconds Annika and I were in an elevator on
our way to the third floor. Halfway down the hall
was his room. The door was closed when we got there,
so I knocked. A moment later, a woman in her
early thirties opened the door. It was Pastor Hart's daughter, Ruby.
She smiled when she saw us. Nika, maythe you. It's
so nice of you to come to visit, Ruby said,
(23:56):
is he okay? I quickly asked. Ruby turned her head
and glanced back into the room. I looked pastor, as
did Annika, and we both saw the old pastor standing
up from his bed. When he saw us, he smiled
and waved. He's doing great, Ruby said, with a smile.
I was actually getting ready to take him home. We
just got cleared. I heard Annaka sigh in relief next
(24:19):
to me. I was able to breathe a little easier
to We're so glad he's okay, Annika said, walking into
the room. I remained at the door, though, watching Pastor
Hart smile and give Annika a hug. You know, he's
very thankful that you were there after the accident, Ruby
said to me. He said, you were like a guardian
angel that day, right place, right time. I said, I'm
(24:43):
just happy he's okay. As I watched Pastor Hart and
Anika converse, the sounds of their words and laughter transitioned
into fuzzy static in my ears. I too, was relieved
that he was okay. He seemed fine, perfectly fine. But
I knew the Advent Calendar well at this point, and
I knew whatever that bloody cross represented was significant. If
(25:07):
it didn't have to do with Pastor Heart, I wondered
what else it could stand for, something with the church.
Perhaps I didn't want to jump to conclusions again, but
something definitely felt wrong. It felt like I was purposefuly
being deceived, like the Advent Calendar was having a laugh
at my expense. Ruby had started speaking again as well,
(25:29):
but all I could hear was static noise. Slowly, my
hearing came back and I was able to focus on
our words. Matthew, did you hear me? Ruby asked. I
shook away the hayze i'd fallen into and looked at her.
I'm sorry what I was wondering? If we'll see at
service this Sunday? She repeated for a second or perhaps
third time, Yeah, I said, we'll be there. You know,
(25:53):
we like to come every Sunday. This time of year,
you should come more than that, she added with a wink,
before returning to the room with her father and Anika.
I stepped back into the hallway and called Lewis Chambers
on my phone. Met you good, brother, Lewis answered, yeah,
I said, Sears said I could head home early today.
(26:14):
All right, good you had some of us worried. Sears
didn't say anything about that. Nope, ah, good man. I said, Hey,
any weird calls today? I heard Lewis moving about on
the other line before he returned his attention to me. No,
I don't think so. Why. I just had a bad
(26:34):
feeling and wanted to satisfy my curiosity. Well, if my
friend died in such a horrible way, I think I'd
be over worried about things too, he said, Any word
on Bridget's funeral arrangements yet, I haven't heard, I said.
I took a breath and continued, Well, if anything crazy happens,
(26:55):
will let me know. Shere a thing, brother, I got you, Thanks,
I said, and then ended the call. As I slipped
the phone back into my pocket, I looked into the
hospital room, where Aniko was still talking new Pastor Hart
and Ruby A knot was twisted in my stomach and
sitting deep in my gut, swallowed hard, fighting the ceaseless
(27:17):
surge of nausea. The Advent calendar was up to something
I knew it was. I had the awful, grim feeling
that's somewhere out there in Marshport someone else was already dead.
Thanks for listening. If you like what you're hearing, please
share it with someone you know who loves scary stories
(27:38):
at Christmas time. If you like to read the full
novel for yourself in print, it's available in paperback, hardback,
and kindle versions at Weird Darkness dot com slash Advent
of Evil. That's also where you can go to hear
each of the twenty four chapters as they're posted. I'm
Darren Marler. Thanks for celebrating Advent with me in the
(27:59):
Weird Artness
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