December 8, 2025 • 32 mins
Matthew Klein woke up believing the nightmare was over. He walked into work with hope in his heart for the first time in days, convinced he had finally broken free from the darkness that had invaded his life. But hope is a fragile thing in Marshport — and the shadows that have been watching Matthew do not forgive so easily. There are rules to this game. Rules that were made clear. And those who break them will discover that consequences come in many forms.
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 (00:03):
When Officer Matthew Kleine arrested his best friend Simon's son Zach,
for attacking a local cafe on December first, he had
no idea. It was just the beginning. That same day,
an antique advent calendar appeared on his doorstep, anonymous, heavy
with twenty four numbered doors and an unsettling carved face
watching from its center. Inexplicably, only Matthew could open. The
(00:28):
doors behind the first was a perfect replica of his
childhood home, which exploded into flames in his hand that night.
A damaged voice whispered through the darkness words that would
haunt him, Uncle David, can you hear us? The calendar's
gifts proved both prophetic and personal. A red feather appeared
(00:50):
hours before a cardinal caused Pastor Heart's near fatal crash.
A Crystal Starr's tips turned bloody before city planner bridget
Car was found dead, Town's massive decorative star embedded in
her skull. The pattern was undeniable. The calendar knew things
that it shouldn't, predicted tragedies it couldn't possibly foresee. When
(01:12):
Matthew attempted to break the rules by opening a door
early a shadowy child materialized, wreaking of smoke and campfire
to enforce them, one day at a time, follow the rules,
or the consequences will be dire. Door four shattered Matthew's
carefully constructed life. Inside was a police mugshot of his uncle, David,
(01:36):
the Demon of Bayville, a serial killer infamous for removing
victim's eyes. The truth came flooding back. Matthew Kleine was
really Matthew Norris, the sole survivor of a Christmas Eve
fire in nineteen ninety five. He and his brother Stephen
had used a spirit board to contact their dead uncle,
accidentally unleashing something demonic. The fire killed his entire family.
(02:01):
The shadowy enforcer haunting him now was stevens charred spirit.
Unable to bear the weight alone, Matthew confessed everything to Annika.
The fifth door held a bloody cross racing to save
Pastor Hart. They found him safe, the calender's first apparent failure,
but the next day revealed the cruel deception. Gwen Martin
(02:25):
lay dead with a metal cross buried in her chest,
murdered while Matthew chased the wrong target. Matthew discovered a
snake shaped z carved into the calender's back. His young
son Mason, began demonstrating impossible knowledge about the deaths, sensing
the supernatural presence invading their home. Behind door six was
(02:47):
a miniature lion, and Matthew found himself fighting off a
lion masked attacker in Gwen's apartment. When police unmasked the killer,
it was Zach, again hollow wide and control. Desperate for guidance,
Matthew confessed the pattern to Pastor Hart, who warned him
to stop opening doors, but confronting his friend Simon, revealed
(03:11):
the terrifying truth. Stephen had appeared to Zach, commanding him
to reveal secrets. When Matthew opened door seven, what he
found inside crossed an unforgivable line. In a moment of
desperate defiance, he drove to the remote coastline of Gull's
Rest and hurled the calendar into the frigid Atlantic ocean.
(03:33):
Seven doors opened, seventeen remain beneath the waves, and December's
countdown continues. Welcome Weirdos. I'm Darren Marler and this is
(04:24):
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 will unlock one chapter each day, but what
(04:44):
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. Monday,
(05:10):
December eighth. Lieutenant Sears was right. He told me to
leave work early on Friday and I'd feel like a
new man when I came back today, and I did.
I felt like a new man, with a substantial weight
off my shoulders, a sorely needed relief bestowed upon me.
I'd taken a melatonin to make sure I was well rested,
(05:32):
and when I woke up to my alarm at three am,
the first thing I did was check the living room.
I was delighted to see the empty table by the fireplace.
The Advent calendar was gone, hopefully still being pulled further
and further out into the frigid waters of the Atlantic.
So Yes, when I walked through the doors of the
(05:53):
precinct just after four am, I felt rejuvenated. I was
even halfway convinced I could embrace the to the holiday season.
And for someone who could never get into the Christmas spirit,
that was really saying something. Marshport's Winter Wonderland Display, if
it was still happening, was only two weeks away, and
I was actually feeling excited for hot chocolate, fire pits
(06:16):
and ice skating with Anika and the boys. It was
a new week, a fresh start, and I planned to
revere every moment of it. I walked through the station
with my new found attitude and found Lieutenant Sears sitting
in his office. I knocked on his door and poked
my head in. Good morning, I smiled. Sears looked up
from his desk, Matt, He said, good morning, How are
(06:38):
you doing really well? I said? Sears stood up behind
his desk, keeping his face straight and serious. Are you sure?
Even after what happened, I'd been so focused on ridding
my house and life of the advent calendar that the
attack in Gwen's house hadn't crossed my mind all morning.
(06:59):
My smile. As I recalled Zach swinging the crowbar at me.
I saw a flash of Gwen's dead body and the
cross jutting out from her chest. You sure you're okay,
Sears asked again, pulling me back from my thoughts. Yeah,
I said, probably, not sounding as convincing as I initially did.
(07:19):
I'm good About to hit the street. Sears nodded. If
you need anything, let me know, Yes, sir, I replied,
and then left his doorway. I drove down Anchor Street
with the plan to get a coffee and doughnut from
the Joe and Go Cafe. But when I got there,
they were closed. The lights were off, the lot was empty,
and there was a sign on the door that said
(07:40):
closed until further notice. Of course, they're closed, I thought
to myself, Why wouldn't they be. Gwen was brutally taken
from this world and her father was attacked in the
cafe's kitchen only a handful of days prior. The Martin family,
as well as the Joe and Go family, were going
through it. I continued down Anchor Street and turned the corner,
(08:02):
following the road toward the town center. I stopped at
a red light and admired the Winter Wonderland display. The
tree was beautiful, decorated with thousands of twinkling white lights,
red and gold ornaments, and the show stopping star at
the very top. It wasn't the same one that fell
and killed Bridget. Someone had made a conscious decision to
(08:23):
go with a different one. Just as the light in
front of me turned green, the two way radio next
to my right knee burst to life with the voice
of a dispatcher. All units be advised of a ten
to fifty four at Gulls Rest. Any patrol car within
a mile, please respond. My heart stopped and my blood
ran cold. Gulls Rest wasn't far from my house. It
(08:46):
was the remote section of Strand Beach where I threw
the Advent calendar into the ocean, and at ten fifty
four that was a possible dead body, even though I
wasn't within a mile of the location. I switched on
my lights and sie sirrons and drove as fast as
I could in that direction. I pulled in through the
same beach access point i'd driven through last night, when
(09:09):
I parked along the border of pine trees that separated
the rocky Beach from the rest of marshpoort. I stepped
out of my patrol car and tossed on my coat
and beanie. I immediately saw where the focus of the
investigation was taking place. It was just near the water's edge,
where the stunted icy waves continuously rushed in and back
out again. There were three other officers standing around something
(09:31):
in the sand and rocks. The fourth one was cautioning
the area off with yellow crime scene tape that fluttered
and flapped in the breeze that was coming in off
the ocean. I approached the others with dread and curiosity
lumping within me the body that lay at their feet.
I needed to see who it was. He was faced
down in the rolling waves. I could Tello was a
(09:53):
male with an average build, wearing a dark blue sweatsuit.
His clothes had been saturated, as if he'd been in
the water, and the icy texture that appeared to coat
his clothing, skin, and dark hair also gave me the
oppression he'd been out there all night. Do we know
who it is? I asked the other officers, not yet
waiting on forensics. One of them said, he's covered with
(10:16):
ice crystals, said another looks like a drownin. Maybe the
third officer responded, why would someone be out here in
these temperatures without a coat. The crunching of tires on
the rocky snowy beach grabbed my attention. It was the
forensics team and crime scene investigators. Another vehicle, an unwashed
(10:37):
maroon sedan, pulled in last, marking the arrival of Detective
war On Davenport. He was rugged in his fifties and
was Marshport's only detective, usually only showing up on scenes
where a murder took place. From what I understood, he
arrived at Gwen's apartment moments after I was escorted off
the Horizon Park property. Once the beach was completely secured,
(10:58):
some of the officers began to scour the area for evidence. I, however,
remained close in proximity to where the lead forensic specialist,
who I believed went by the name of Tilly, was
tending to the body. Davenport loomed over her, watching fervently
as if he were about to witness some major revelation
or uncover key evidence. I watched Tilly pull on latex
(11:20):
gloves and a snap on surgical mask. She then carefully
turned the deceased mail over onto his back. That's when
I got a look at his face. The same time
Davenport knelt down to get a closer look. I knew
him the dead man, not well, but I knew him
as our neighbor who lived just down a little seaside
(11:40):
path from our house. That's Wren, I said, walking closer, Rennu.
When Davenport looked back at me and stood up, How
do you know him, he asked, curious and calm. He
is our neighbor, I said, he lives close to my
house with his wife, Nettie. Davenported out a small voice
(12:00):
recorder and pressed one of the buttons as he spoke
into it. Semnar eighth, eight forty five am deceased mail
goals rest possible drowning, possibly identified as Renew one of
Marshport awaiting confirmation. Dressed in dark sweatpants Matching's wet shirt
and snow boots, Davenport placed the voice recorder back into
(12:21):
a hitten pocket in his coat and approached me. Matthew,
he addressed me, could you take me to their house?
I was a little stunned by his request. It wasn't
usually customed for a patrol officer to escort a detective
around unless he had ulterior motives. Did he know something?
Did he know I was in this same exact spot
(12:43):
last night. I looked out into the freezing cold water,
as if the Atlantic and wondered, hoped that the advent
calendar was miles away by now, maybe even at the
bottom of the sea. Sure, I told him, great, I'll
follow you. As I drove up the road, with Davenport
following closely behind me, I couldn't shake the feeling that
(13:05):
he knew something. I just couldn't fathom why he would
want me, of all people, to lead him to Wren's house.
He easily could have looked up the address, or had
another member of law enforcements, maybe even someone on his
own level, accompany him. It felt strange, irregular. The house
wasn't very far away, just like I told him back
(13:26):
on the beach. I pulled in the driveway first, and
the detectives sedan pulled up behind me, blocking me and
making me feel slightly more confined than I already was.
I climbed out of my car first and awaited him.
After what felt like a full agonizing minute, he got
out and met me at my patrol car. Sorry, he said,
(13:47):
I was checking with dispatch. Missus new One hadn't reported
her husband missing, so either she doesn't know yet or
Davenport didn't feel the need to finish his sentence, and
where was headed was obvious. Together, we walked toward the
house and up the front steps and onto the porch.
On either side of the door were little two foot
(14:08):
Christmas trees. On the door was a large wreath decorated
with red bows and little present boxes. Davenport knocked assertively.
Marsh Port Police, please open the door, he shouted. As
we waited. Davenport turned to me, seems as if you
were escorted away from the Martin crime scene the other
day before I had a chance to get there. I'm
(14:30):
sorry you're the one who had to find Gwen like that,
and I'm sorry you were attacked while off duty and unarmed.
Must have been frightening for you. Davenport had no idea
how frightening it was, But it wasn't just because of
the two obvious reasons he'd mentioned. Most of the fright
came from the piece of malicious holiday decor that I'd
now dumped in the ocean. I nodded, looking down to
(14:53):
my feet. Thanks, I said, I'm just sorry Gwen's life
couldn't have been spared. I'd like to sit down and
discuss the incident with you a little further, Davenport said,
you know, since you were already gone when I got there.
There it was his ulterior motive. He wanted to question
me about Gwen's death. Probably asked me why I was
(15:15):
there to begin with, why I had some degree of
connection to everything that had been going on. Bridget Gwen
zach sure, I said, you'd name the time and place. Great,
I'll give you a call, he said, facing the front
door again and repeating the loud knocking and declaration of
the police presence. This time we heard something inside. It
(15:37):
sounded like the house was coming to life after a
long night of sitting still. The foundation creaked, and we
heard a woman's muffled voice inside saying something inaudible. When
the lock clicked and the door opened, missus Neddie Newenn
was standing there, holding a bathrobe closed against her body.
Her long, dark hair was disheveled, and her eyes were
adjusting to being awake. Yes, she gruggled, he asked. Davenport
(16:02):
flashed his badge. I'm Detective Davenport with the marsh poor police.
This is Officer Klein. You're Netty new wayn I presume.
Nettie nodded, rubbing her eyes and pulling a loose strand
of hair away from her face and tugging it behind
her ear. May we speak with her husband, Wren, please,
Davenport asked, still half asleep. Nettie shook her head. I don't.
(16:22):
He wasn't in bed. I thought he would have answered
the door. That's why it took me so long. I'm sorry.
Is it home, Davenport asked, he should be. What time
is it. He doesn't have to work until later this afternoon.
It's not a m I am. Nettie looked confused, disoriented.
It was understandable if she'd woken up to these out
(16:44):
of the blue questions and assumed her husband would have
been either in the bed with her or able to
answer the door. Let me check and see if he's here,
she said, Would you gentlemen like to come in? Davenport smiled,
thank you. He stepped into the foyer of the home,
and I followed. Neddie closed the front door and then
went off to look for Wren. I knew it was
(17:06):
a lost cause, and I believed this was Davenport's way
of trying to confirm that it was Wren's body on
the beach like I had told him. But it was
certainly interesting that Nettie assumed he was still here somewhere.
She seemed genuine in her response and confusion. We waited
patiently by the front door for a couple of minutes
as Nettie scoured the home. Occasionally we'd hear her call
(17:27):
out for Wren, but of course there was never a response.
She came back to us much more alert, and growing
panic was evident on her face. I don't know where
he is, she worried. Can you call him? Would you
have a cell phone on him? Davenport asked yeah, Neddie
said yeah, that's a good idea. He always has that
thing on him. Nettie rushed out of the room again
(17:49):
and grabbed her phone. She called him. As she stepped
back into the foyer with us, she placed the phone
to her ear and waited. Then, from somewhere in the house,
all three of us heard Wren's sell phone ringing it
was still here. Nettie slowly lowered her phone down to
her side, shaking and breathing heavily. What's going on? She asked,
(18:09):
with a bumpy quiver in her voice. Mayam Davenport began,
what was the last time you saw your husband? By lunchtime,
everything had been confirmed rennw when was indeed the deceased
male laying face down in Gull's rest. Nettie was inconsolable
when Detective Davenport finally broke the news to her. She
(18:30):
claimed they'd gone to bed together like every other night,
somewhere around ten or eleven, and the next thing she
remembered was being woken up by the detectives pounding on
the front door. She admitted to being a heavy sleeper,
so for Wren to get out of bed and her
now realized it that wasn't something inconceivable. It happened frequently.
From what Nettie stated in the report, I sat in
(18:52):
my patrol car parked along Ferry Avenue and ate a
cold burger and fries I'd picked up from the frying
nest for an early lunch. Music played over the radio.
It was part of my reinvigorated attempt to make the
most out of the rest of the season. But now,
after finding Wren dead and bringing the total of suspicious
deaths in marshpoart to three in just the first week
(19:13):
of December. I was starting to feel like joy wasn't
in the cards for me. I turned off the music
and sat in silence, eating the ever cooling food. Ahead
of me, I watched people walk around the town center,
admiring the tree and decorations that were still being put up.
A team of city volunteers were now bringing in large
(19:33):
plastic snowbend to place around the tree, like they were
sentries tasked with protecting the location, as if the tree
itself was royalty. My cell phone rang. It was laying
face up on the center console to my right. I
looked down as I stuffed a few more soft cooled
fries into my mouth and saw Lewis chambers name crawling
across the screen in rhythm with the ring tone and
(19:55):
accompanying vibrations. I answered the call, Hey, Lewis, what's up?
Did you hear what they've found on the nun's security footage?
Lewis asked, I hadn't heard anything, so he had my
full attention. No, what did they find? Supposedly the ring
camera that focused on the front door wasn't charged, so
we'd got nothing Louis explained, But as it turns out,
(20:18):
Wren had a second camera on the property along the
side of the house where he kept his stack of firewood.
I guess he'd had problems with people stealing it in
the past, so he wanted to make sure it was
always under surveillance. O ka, I restlessly said, urging him
to make his point that camera was charged. Lewis continued,
our digital team was able to see some one dressed
(20:40):
in all black with a hood over their head creep
out from the woods behind the nun house around three
a m. And trigger the motion sensor lights. The figure
walks around to the front of the house, out of
the camera's view, but re emerges five minutes later, with
Wren walking alongside him complicitly. They disappear out of view
again into the woods and are assumed to be headed
(21:02):
in the direction of Gull's rest complicitly, like he left
willingly with this person. I asked, that's the rumor, Lewis said,
I haven't seen the footage myself. Of course, that's above
my pay grade. Who would come to Rent's house at
three am and convince him to leave without a jacket
Even temperatures were below freezing last night. That's the million
(21:26):
dollar question. Met someone with a black hoodie. That's all
I know, a black hoodie, I repeated back, tossing the
image around in my mind. I remembered a small detail
that Lewis mentioned to me last week. Didn't you say
there was a witness report of someone suspicious in a
hoodie walking around the town center just before Bridget died? Yeah,
(21:49):
Lewis said, remembering the detail as well. Once I mentioned it,
you said something about Mike Kimball, the bowling alley guy. Right, Yeah,
but that was earlier in the day unless he came back.
I looked around, trying to place the direction in the
bowling alley from where I was. It was only a
couple of blocks from where I was parked. Mike Campbell
(22:09):
had a black hooded sweatshirt on, and the same area
Bridget died, the same area where a witness claimed to
see someone suspicious in matching a tire later in the day.
And now a hooded figure was allegedly responsible for luring
ren Nun out into the cold night, where he ultimately
drowned in the raw, icy waters of the Atlantic. Even
though it could be a stretch the coincidences were hard
(22:32):
to ignore. Thanks for the update, Lewis, I said, I'll
see you back in the station. Yes, sir, Lewis sportively replied.
I ended the call, balled up my burger wrapper and
shoved it back into the brown paper bag in which
it came from. I u turned and headed for the
bowling Alley. It was just afternoon when I pulled into
(22:52):
Neon Pins parking lot. It was mostly empty, aside from
just one other car parked along the side of the building,
which I assumed owned to the lone working employee. I
wasn't sure if it was Mike Campbell's or not, but
I was hopeful. I walked in immediately hit with that
classic bowling alley smell. Bright lights buzzed on the wall
(23:12):
at the ends of each of the twelve lanes and
behind the counter where the shoe rentals were. Loud rock
music boomed from the speaker's overhead, which was refreshing to
hear an a time of year that was dominated by
jingle bells and playful Santa songs. I approached the rental counter,
where a man stood on the other side. He was
hunched over, leaning against the counter and looking down at
(23:32):
an open magazine. I waited for him to see me,
but the music was too loud and his magazine article
was too interesting. I cleared my throat and placed my
palms on the counter. Finally receiving his attention, he looked up.
It was Mike Campbell. Ahi, Mike, I smiled. He scrunched
his face. Confused by my presence. He looked around to
(23:54):
see if there was anyone with me, and when his
search came up empty, he made eye contact with me.
Office a cline, he politely greeted me, catching kleine on
my badge. Can I help you with something? Do you
need a lane? No? Thanks, I said, just a couple
of quick questions, if you don't mind. Mike nodded without
saying a word. The day I stopped you for jaywalking,
(24:15):
how long did you spend at the town Center? Why?
He asked, a slightly defensive tone creeping into his voice.
It's just a question, I said, holding out hope that
he would answer it, even though I knew he didn't
have to. Mike crossed his arms and leaned slightly to
the side. I don't remember not long. Do you know
(24:35):
a man named Rennu? When I then asked, abruptly, changing
the subject to the conversation. I was hoping to take
Mike by surprise, hoping to get a rise out of him,
but he held his own no, he said, composed and
completely unfazed by my question. His reaction confounded me because
of its sincerity. I was certain i'd spot a glimmer
(24:57):
of hesitation or unease, but there was nothing. I decided
to relinquish my line of questioning, and then he hit
me with one of his own, do your sergeant or lieutenant, No,
you're out here asking questions like this, See IF's ie
more of a job for a detective and not some
generic uniform. Mike was right. I was out of line,
out of my element. I took a step back away
(25:18):
from the shoe rental counter. I apologize for any inconvenience,
I said. He only smiled, but not in a friendly way.
It was like he had the upper hand. The last
thing I needed was for him to report me to
Lieutenant Sears or worse, Chief Pennington for conducting an unauthorized
interrogation of a civilian. I'm sorry to bother you, I added,
(25:40):
before leaving. I slammed my patrol car door shut angry
with myself for what I'd just done. I gripped the
wheel as tightly as I could, imagining myself ripping through
it and tearing it completely off the dash. I wanted
to scream, I wanted to roar. I closed my eyes
and took a deep breath, focusing on letting it back
out as slowly as I could. With it wet the
(26:02):
anger and remnants of the tantrum, my mind felt clearer, quieter.
Then an odor rose up in the car, one that
burned my eyes into opening. It smelled hot, smoky, as
if something were burning. I looked around, expecting to see
smoke filling up the space in my car, but there wasn't.
(26:24):
There was no smoke, only the lingering odor of it.
My heart began to palpitate again, faster and faster. You
must follow the rules. A familiar, raspy voice spoke behind me.
I looked into the rear view mirror and saw the
charred body of the little boy sitting in the back seat.
His features were indistinguishable, and he looked as if he
(26:44):
were made of scorched, blackened wood. Fiery embers burned within
his seared, segmented construction where his mouth would be split
open and expelled soot and ashes. As he spoke again,
the consequences for not following the rules would be dire detrimental.
With a shaky voice, I responded, keeping my eyes glued
(27:05):
to his image in the mirror, what do you want
from me? Instead of answering my question, the wicked figure
began to cackle like a witch. His vocalization jagged and crippled.
Then suddenly I felt a searing pain on my left calf.
It felt as if someone had placed a hot iron
directly against my skin. I screamed out in pain and
thrashed about in my seat. I threw the door open
(27:27):
and stumbled out into the snow, collapsing to the ground.
I gripped my teeth and lifted my pant leg to
see what had happened to my skin. I saw five
small shapes on my calf that resembled the fingers in
a handprint. They were black with a bloody red outline.
The blood that defined the prints began to drip down
my leg. As the pain started to subside, I lowered
(27:49):
my pant leg back over the bizarre burning lesion. I
stood up, wiping snow from my pants. And jacket and
looked into the back seat of my patrol car. It
was empty. There was nothing, no one. It was another
warning from my mysterious phantom stalker from Stephen. I was
(28:10):
trying to make sense of it all, and what I
was starting to think was that Stephen was angry with me,
even in death. I ran from the house that night
and left them all for dead. I did nothing to
save them, nothing to help them. Now I was paying
for it. When I got home from work, I took
a nap. I woke up when I heard Logan and
(28:32):
Mason Beryl into the house after school. They told me
about their days, but I felt like I was barely
paying attention. My mind was swimming with thoughts of murders
and phantoms, guilt and pain, both emotional and physical. I
kept checking my calf each time, thinking the burned imprint
wouldn't be there, and that it would have just been
(28:52):
another hallucination or apparition like Stephen's spectral appearance had been.
But every time I looked there it was. I wore
pants and high socks to keep it out of Anika's
line of sight if she saw it. I wasn't even
sure how I would begin to explain it. The rest
of the day and evening went by in a hazy blur.
(29:13):
WE ate dinner lazily watched TV as a family, and
then once the kids were in bed, Anika and I
turned in as well. She was asleep before the Seinfel
to rerun on our bedroom TV was even halfway over.
I turned it off at that point and struggled to
fall asleep for at least the next hour. But as
soon as I did, blam. I was abruptly woken by
(29:35):
a hard, loud bang from downstairs. I sat up and
awaited hearing it again, thinking maybe it was a dream
I had just fallen into. I looked over at the
clock radio. It was eleven forty five. Blam, it happened again.
I jumped out of bed and hurried down the hallway,
where I perched myself at the top of the stairs.
I heard the saunter of a winter wind piping through
(29:56):
the downstairs area. A bitter chill caught my neck and arms,
letting me know our house was exposed vulnerable. I scampered
down the stairs and straight for the front door. It
was wide open, kinetic, and the winter winds outside. I
hurried over and pushed it shut, locking it and then
securing the dead bolt. Once the sharp scent of the
December air was separated from the house, a new scent
(30:19):
surged inside. It was smoky, pungent. I crept around the
corner to the living room. The Advent calendar sat on
the table next to the fireplace. My stomach lurched and
I exhaled faintly. The smoky odor was now mixing with
the briny scent of the ocean. Where the Advent calendar
had been cast out by my own hands. I watched
(30:41):
the waves carry it away from the shore. This was impossible.
The lesions on the back of my calf began to
ache and sting. I cringed and weakly stepped away. When
I turned round, standing at the foot of the stairwell,
sunken back into the shadows was the gloomy vision of
Stephen again. For the speckled glows of burning embers throughout
(31:02):
his body, I wouldn't have even seen him in the darkness.
You can't stop this, Matthew, his mutilated voice, said, you
must play by the rules, one day at a time.
He then lifted his finger and pointed in the direction
of the calendar. The unsettled fear that swirled within me
began to succumb to a rising takeover of pure anger
(31:24):
and safeguarding. I don't want to be a part of it,
I hissed through my teeth. You're not real, You're dead.
The phantom cackled again, and then suddenly burst in a violent,
resentful detonation of ashes and embers. Once the spectral display
of self implosion had ended and its floating debris fizzled
and faded away, the house fell into a calm, eerie silence.
(31:49):
Clearly he wasn't happy with my scornful response, but I'd
had enough of this game. I didn't want to be
a part of it. I wouldn't be. I looked back
into the room, where the event calendar stood like a
haunting monolith, waiting to deliver me another fragment of bad news.
Door number eight was still closed, and as far as
(32:09):
I was concerned, it could just stay that way. Thanks
for listening. If you like what you're hearing, please share
it with someone you know who loves scary stories 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 Weirddarkness dot com slash Advent of Evil.
(32:32):
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 Weird Darkness
When Officer Matthew Kleine arrested his best friend Simon's son Zach,
for attacking a local cafe on December first, he had
no idea. It was just the beginning. That same day,
an antique advent calendar appeared on his doorstep, anonymous, heavy
with twenty four numbered doors and an unsettling carved face
watching from its center. Inexplicably, only Matthew could open. The
(00:28):
doors behind the first was a perfect replica of his
childhood home, which exploded into flames in his hand that night.
A damaged voice whispered through the darkness words that would
haunt him, Uncle David, can you hear us? The calendar's
gifts proved both prophetic and personal. A red feather appeared
(00:50):
hours before a cardinal caused Pastor Heart's near fatal crash.
A Crystal Starr's tips turned bloody before city planner bridget
Car was found dead, Town's massive decorative star embedded in
her skull. The pattern was undeniable. The calendar knew things
that it shouldn't, predicted tragedies it couldn't possibly foresee. When
(01:12):
Matthew attempted to break the rules by opening a door
early a shadowy child materialized, wreaking of smoke and campfire
to enforce them, one day at a time, follow the rules,
or the consequences will be dire. Door four shattered Matthew's
carefully constructed life. Inside was a police mugshot of his uncle, David,
(01:36):
the Demon of Bayville, a serial killer infamous for removing
victim's eyes. The truth came flooding back. Matthew Kleine was
really Matthew Norris, the sole survivor of a Christmas Eve
fire in nineteen ninety five. He and his brother Stephen
had used a spirit board to contact their dead uncle,
accidentally unleashing something demonic. The fire killed his entire family.
(02:01):
The shadowy enforcer haunting him now was stevens charred spirit.
Unable to bear the weight alone, Matthew confessed everything to Annika.
The fifth door held a bloody cross racing to save
Pastor Hart. They found him safe, the calender's first apparent failure,
but the next day revealed the cruel deception. Gwen Martin
(02:25):
lay dead with a metal cross buried in her chest,
murdered while Matthew chased the wrong target. Matthew discovered a
snake shaped z carved into the calender's back. His young
son Mason, began demonstrating impossible knowledge about the deaths, sensing
the supernatural presence invading their home. Behind door six was
(02:47):
a miniature lion, and Matthew found himself fighting off a
lion masked attacker in Gwen's apartment. When police unmasked the killer,
it was Zach, again hollow wide and control. Desperate for guidance,
Matthew confessed the pattern to Pastor Hart, who warned him
to stop opening doors, but confronting his friend Simon, revealed
(03:11):
the terrifying truth. Stephen had appeared to Zach, commanding him
to reveal secrets. When Matthew opened door seven, what he
found inside crossed an unforgivable line. In a moment of
desperate defiance, he drove to the remote coastline of Gull's
Rest and hurled the calendar into the frigid Atlantic ocean.
(03:33):
Seven doors opened, seventeen remain beneath the waves, and December's
countdown continues. Welcome Weirdos. I'm Darren Marler and this is
(04:24):
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 will unlock one chapter each day, but what
(04:44):
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. Monday,
(05:10):
December eighth. Lieutenant Sears was right. He told me to
leave work early on Friday and I'd feel like a
new man when I came back today, and I did.
I felt like a new man, with a substantial weight
off my shoulders, a sorely needed relief bestowed upon me.
I'd taken a melatonin to make sure I was well rested,
(05:32):
and when I woke up to my alarm at three am,
the first thing I did was check the living room.
I was delighted to see the empty table by the fireplace.
The Advent calendar was gone, hopefully still being pulled further
and further out into the frigid waters of the Atlantic.
So Yes, when I walked through the doors of the
(05:53):
precinct just after four am, I felt rejuvenated. I was
even halfway convinced I could embrace the to the holiday season.
And for someone who could never get into the Christmas spirit,
that was really saying something. Marshport's Winter Wonderland Display, if
it was still happening, was only two weeks away, and
I was actually feeling excited for hot chocolate, fire pits
(06:16):
and ice skating with Anika and the boys. It was
a new week, a fresh start, and I planned to
revere every moment of it. I walked through the station
with my new found attitude and found Lieutenant Sears sitting
in his office. I knocked on his door and poked
my head in. Good morning, I smiled. Sears looked up
from his desk, Matt, He said, good morning, How are
(06:38):
you doing really well? I said? Sears stood up behind
his desk, keeping his face straight and serious. Are you sure?
Even after what happened, I'd been so focused on ridding
my house and life of the advent calendar that the
attack in Gwen's house hadn't crossed my mind all morning.
(06:59):
My smile. As I recalled Zach swinging the crowbar at me.
I saw a flash of Gwen's dead body and the
cross jutting out from her chest. You sure you're okay,
Sears asked again, pulling me back from my thoughts. Yeah,
I said, probably, not sounding as convincing as I initially did.
(07:19):
I'm good About to hit the street. Sears nodded. If
you need anything, let me know, Yes, sir, I replied,
and then left his doorway. I drove down Anchor Street
with the plan to get a coffee and doughnut from
the Joe and Go Cafe. But when I got there,
they were closed. The lights were off, the lot was empty,
and there was a sign on the door that said
(07:40):
closed until further notice. Of course, they're closed, I thought
to myself, Why wouldn't they be. Gwen was brutally taken
from this world and her father was attacked in the
cafe's kitchen only a handful of days prior. The Martin family,
as well as the Joe and Go family, were going
through it. I continued down Anchor Street and turned the corner,
(08:02):
following the road toward the town center. I stopped at
a red light and admired the Winter Wonderland display. The
tree was beautiful, decorated with thousands of twinkling white lights,
red and gold ornaments, and the show stopping star at
the very top. It wasn't the same one that fell
and killed Bridget. Someone had made a conscious decision to
(08:23):
go with a different one. Just as the light in
front of me turned green, the two way radio next
to my right knee burst to life with the voice
of a dispatcher. All units be advised of a ten
to fifty four at Gulls Rest. Any patrol car within
a mile, please respond. My heart stopped and my blood
ran cold. Gulls Rest wasn't far from my house. It
(08:46):
was the remote section of Strand Beach where I threw
the Advent calendar into the ocean, and at ten fifty
four that was a possible dead body, even though I
wasn't within a mile of the location. I switched on
my lights and sie sirrons and drove as fast as
I could in that direction. I pulled in through the
same beach access point i'd driven through last night, when
(09:09):
I parked along the border of pine trees that separated
the rocky Beach from the rest of marshpoort. I stepped
out of my patrol car and tossed on my coat
and beanie. I immediately saw where the focus of the
investigation was taking place. It was just near the water's edge,
where the stunted icy waves continuously rushed in and back
out again. There were three other officers standing around something
(09:31):
in the sand and rocks. The fourth one was cautioning
the area off with yellow crime scene tape that fluttered
and flapped in the breeze that was coming in off
the ocean. I approached the others with dread and curiosity
lumping within me the body that lay at their feet.
I needed to see who it was. He was faced
down in the rolling waves. I could Tello was a
(09:53):
male with an average build, wearing a dark blue sweatsuit.
His clothes had been saturated, as if he'd been in
the water, and the icy texture that appeared to coat
his clothing, skin, and dark hair also gave me the
oppression he'd been out there all night. Do we know
who it is? I asked the other officers, not yet
waiting on forensics. One of them said, he's covered with
(10:16):
ice crystals, said another looks like a drownin. Maybe the
third officer responded, why would someone be out here in
these temperatures without a coat. The crunching of tires on
the rocky snowy beach grabbed my attention. It was the
forensics team and crime scene investigators. Another vehicle, an unwashed
(10:37):
maroon sedan, pulled in last, marking the arrival of Detective
war On Davenport. He was rugged in his fifties and
was Marshport's only detective, usually only showing up on scenes
where a murder took place. From what I understood, he
arrived at Gwen's apartment moments after I was escorted off
the Horizon Park property. Once the beach was completely secured,
(10:58):
some of the officers began to scour the area for evidence. I, however,
remained close in proximity to where the lead forensic specialist,
who I believed went by the name of Tilly, was
tending to the body. Davenport loomed over her, watching fervently
as if he were about to witness some major revelation
or uncover key evidence. I watched Tilly pull on latex
(11:20):
gloves and a snap on surgical mask. She then carefully
turned the deceased mail over onto his back. That's when
I got a look at his face. The same time
Davenport knelt down to get a closer look. I knew
him the dead man, not well, but I knew him
as our neighbor who lived just down a little seaside
(11:40):
path from our house. That's Wren, I said, walking closer, Rennu.
When Davenport looked back at me and stood up, How
do you know him, he asked, curious and calm. He
is our neighbor, I said, he lives close to my
house with his wife, Nettie. Davenported out a small voice
(12:00):
recorder and pressed one of the buttons as he spoke
into it. Semnar eighth, eight forty five am deceased mail
goals rest possible drowning, possibly identified as Renew one of
Marshport awaiting confirmation. Dressed in dark sweatpants Matching's wet shirt
and snow boots, Davenport placed the voice recorder back into
(12:21):
a hitten pocket in his coat and approached me. Matthew,
he addressed me, could you take me to their house?
I was a little stunned by his request. It wasn't
usually customed for a patrol officer to escort a detective
around unless he had ulterior motives. Did he know something?
Did he know I was in this same exact spot
(12:43):
last night. I looked out into the freezing cold water,
as if the Atlantic and wondered, hoped that the advent
calendar was miles away by now, maybe even at the
bottom of the sea. Sure, I told him, great, I'll
follow you. As I drove up the road, with Davenport
following closely behind me, I couldn't shake the feeling that
(13:05):
he knew something. I just couldn't fathom why he would
want me, of all people, to lead him to Wren's house.
He easily could have looked up the address, or had
another member of law enforcements, maybe even someone on his
own level, accompany him. It felt strange, irregular. The house
wasn't very far away, just like I told him back
(13:26):
on the beach. I pulled in the driveway first, and
the detectives sedan pulled up behind me, blocking me and
making me feel slightly more confined than I already was.
I climbed out of my car first and awaited him.
After what felt like a full agonizing minute, he got
out and met me at my patrol car. Sorry, he said,
(13:47):
I was checking with dispatch. Missus new One hadn't reported
her husband missing, so either she doesn't know yet or
Davenport didn't feel the need to finish his sentence, and
where was headed was obvious. Together, we walked toward the
house and up the front steps and onto the porch.
On either side of the door were little two foot
(14:08):
Christmas trees. On the door was a large wreath decorated
with red bows and little present boxes. Davenport knocked assertively.
Marsh Port Police, please open the door, he shouted. As
we waited. Davenport turned to me, seems as if you
were escorted away from the Martin crime scene the other
day before I had a chance to get there. I'm
(14:30):
sorry you're the one who had to find Gwen like that,
and I'm sorry you were attacked while off duty and unarmed.
Must have been frightening for you. Davenport had no idea
how frightening it was, But it wasn't just because of
the two obvious reasons he'd mentioned. Most of the fright
came from the piece of malicious holiday decor that I'd
now dumped in the ocean. I nodded, looking down to
(14:53):
my feet. Thanks, I said, I'm just sorry Gwen's life
couldn't have been spared. I'd like to sit down and
discuss the incident with you a little further, Davenport said,
you know, since you were already gone when I got there.
There it was his ulterior motive. He wanted to question
me about Gwen's death. Probably asked me why I was
(15:15):
there to begin with, why I had some degree of
connection to everything that had been going on. Bridget Gwen
zach sure, I said, you'd name the time and place. Great,
I'll give you a call, he said, facing the front
door again and repeating the loud knocking and declaration of
the police presence. This time we heard something inside. It
(15:37):
sounded like the house was coming to life after a
long night of sitting still. The foundation creaked, and we
heard a woman's muffled voice inside saying something inaudible. When
the lock clicked and the door opened, missus Neddie Newenn
was standing there, holding a bathrobe closed against her body.
Her long, dark hair was disheveled, and her eyes were
adjusting to being awake. Yes, she gruggled, he asked. Davenport
(16:02):
flashed his badge. I'm Detective Davenport with the marsh poor police.
This is Officer Klein. You're Netty new wayn I presume.
Nettie nodded, rubbing her eyes and pulling a loose strand
of hair away from her face and tugging it behind
her ear. May we speak with her husband, Wren, please,
Davenport asked, still half asleep. Nettie shook her head. I don't.
(16:22):
He wasn't in bed. I thought he would have answered
the door. That's why it took me so long. I'm sorry.
Is it home, Davenport asked, he should be. What time
is it. He doesn't have to work until later this afternoon.
It's not a m I am. Nettie looked confused, disoriented.
It was understandable if she'd woken up to these out
(16:44):
of the blue questions and assumed her husband would have
been either in the bed with her or able to
answer the door. Let me check and see if he's here,
she said, Would you gentlemen like to come in? Davenport smiled,
thank you. He stepped into the foyer of the home,
and I followed. Neddie closed the front door and then
went off to look for Wren. I knew it was
(17:06):
a lost cause, and I believed this was Davenport's way
of trying to confirm that it was Wren's body on
the beach like I had told him. But it was
certainly interesting that Nettie assumed he was still here somewhere.
She seemed genuine in her response and confusion. We waited
patiently by the front door for a couple of minutes
as Nettie scoured the home. Occasionally we'd hear her call
(17:27):
out for Wren, but of course there was never a response.
She came back to us much more alert, and growing
panic was evident on her face. I don't know where
he is, she worried. Can you call him? Would you
have a cell phone on him? Davenport asked yeah, Neddie
said yeah, that's a good idea. He always has that
thing on him. Nettie rushed out of the room again
(17:49):
and grabbed her phone. She called him. As she stepped
back into the foyer with us, she placed the phone
to her ear and waited. Then, from somewhere in the house,
all three of us heard Wren's sell phone ringing it
was still here. Nettie slowly lowered her phone down to
her side, shaking and breathing heavily. What's going on? She asked,
(18:09):
with a bumpy quiver in her voice. Mayam Davenport began,
what was the last time you saw your husband? By lunchtime,
everything had been confirmed rennw when was indeed the deceased
male laying face down in Gull's rest. Nettie was inconsolable
when Detective Davenport finally broke the news to her. She
(18:30):
claimed they'd gone to bed together like every other night,
somewhere around ten or eleven, and the next thing she
remembered was being woken up by the detectives pounding on
the front door. She admitted to being a heavy sleeper,
so for Wren to get out of bed and her
now realized it that wasn't something inconceivable. It happened frequently.
From what Nettie stated in the report, I sat in
(18:52):
my patrol car parked along Ferry Avenue and ate a
cold burger and fries I'd picked up from the frying
nest for an early lunch. Music played over the radio.
It was part of my reinvigorated attempt to make the
most out of the rest of the season. But now,
after finding Wren dead and bringing the total of suspicious
deaths in marshpoart to three in just the first week
(19:13):
of December. I was starting to feel like joy wasn't
in the cards for me. I turned off the music
and sat in silence, eating the ever cooling food. Ahead
of me, I watched people walk around the town center,
admiring the tree and decorations that were still being put up.
A team of city volunteers were now bringing in large
(19:33):
plastic snowbend to place around the tree, like they were
sentries tasked with protecting the location, as if the tree
itself was royalty. My cell phone rang. It was laying
face up on the center console to my right. I
looked down as I stuffed a few more soft cooled
fries into my mouth and saw Lewis chambers name crawling
across the screen in rhythm with the ring tone and
(19:55):
accompanying vibrations. I answered the call, Hey, Lewis, what's up?
Did you hear what they've found on the nun's security footage?
Lewis asked, I hadn't heard anything, so he had my
full attention. No, what did they find? Supposedly the ring
camera that focused on the front door wasn't charged, so
we'd got nothing Louis explained, But as it turns out,
(20:18):
Wren had a second camera on the property along the
side of the house where he kept his stack of firewood.
I guess he'd had problems with people stealing it in
the past, so he wanted to make sure it was
always under surveillance. O ka, I restlessly said, urging him
to make his point that camera was charged. Lewis continued,
our digital team was able to see some one dressed
(20:40):
in all black with a hood over their head creep
out from the woods behind the nun house around three
a m. And trigger the motion sensor lights. The figure
walks around to the front of the house, out of
the camera's view, but re emerges five minutes later, with
Wren walking alongside him complicitly. They disappear out of view
again into the woods and are assumed to be headed
(21:02):
in the direction of Gull's rest complicitly, like he left
willingly with this person. I asked, that's the rumor, Lewis said,
I haven't seen the footage myself. Of course, that's above
my pay grade. Who would come to Rent's house at
three am and convince him to leave without a jacket
Even temperatures were below freezing last night. That's the million
(21:26):
dollar question. Met someone with a black hoodie. That's all
I know, a black hoodie, I repeated back, tossing the
image around in my mind. I remembered a small detail
that Lewis mentioned to me last week. Didn't you say
there was a witness report of someone suspicious in a
hoodie walking around the town center just before Bridget died? Yeah,
(21:49):
Lewis said, remembering the detail as well. Once I mentioned it,
you said something about Mike Kimball, the bowling alley guy. Right, Yeah,
but that was earlier in the day unless he came back.
I looked around, trying to place the direction in the
bowling alley from where I was. It was only a
couple of blocks from where I was parked. Mike Campbell
(22:09):
had a black hooded sweatshirt on, and the same area
Bridget died, the same area where a witness claimed to
see someone suspicious in matching a tire later in the day.
And now a hooded figure was allegedly responsible for luring
ren Nun out into the cold night, where he ultimately
drowned in the raw, icy waters of the Atlantic. Even
though it could be a stretch the coincidences were hard
(22:32):
to ignore. Thanks for the update, Lewis, I said, I'll
see you back in the station. Yes, sir, Lewis sportively replied.
I ended the call, balled up my burger wrapper and
shoved it back into the brown paper bag in which
it came from. I u turned and headed for the
bowling Alley. It was just afternoon when I pulled into
(22:52):
Neon Pins parking lot. It was mostly empty, aside from
just one other car parked along the side of the building,
which I assumed owned to the lone working employee. I
wasn't sure if it was Mike Campbell's or not, but
I was hopeful. I walked in immediately hit with that
classic bowling alley smell. Bright lights buzzed on the wall
(23:12):
at the ends of each of the twelve lanes and
behind the counter where the shoe rentals were. Loud rock
music boomed from the speaker's overhead, which was refreshing to
hear an a time of year that was dominated by
jingle bells and playful Santa songs. I approached the rental counter,
where a man stood on the other side. He was
hunched over, leaning against the counter and looking down at
(23:32):
an open magazine. I waited for him to see me,
but the music was too loud and his magazine article
was too interesting. I cleared my throat and placed my
palms on the counter. Finally receiving his attention, he looked up.
It was Mike Campbell. Ahi, Mike, I smiled. He scrunched
his face. Confused by my presence. He looked around to
(23:54):
see if there was anyone with me, and when his
search came up empty, he made eye contact with me.
Office a cline, he politely greeted me, catching kleine on
my badge. Can I help you with something? Do you
need a lane? No? Thanks, I said, just a couple
of quick questions, if you don't mind. Mike nodded without
saying a word. The day I stopped you for jaywalking,
(24:15):
how long did you spend at the town Center? Why?
He asked, a slightly defensive tone creeping into his voice.
It's just a question, I said, holding out hope that
he would answer it, even though I knew he didn't
have to. Mike crossed his arms and leaned slightly to
the side. I don't remember not long. Do you know
(24:35):
a man named Rennu? When I then asked, abruptly, changing
the subject to the conversation. I was hoping to take
Mike by surprise, hoping to get a rise out of him,
but he held his own no, he said, composed and
completely unfazed by my question. His reaction confounded me because
of its sincerity. I was certain i'd spot a glimmer
(24:57):
of hesitation or unease, but there was nothing. I decided
to relinquish my line of questioning, and then he hit
me with one of his own, do your sergeant or lieutenant, No,
you're out here asking questions like this, See IF's ie
more of a job for a detective and not some
generic uniform. Mike was right. I was out of line,
out of my element. I took a step back away
(25:18):
from the shoe rental counter. I apologize for any inconvenience,
I said. He only smiled, but not in a friendly way.
It was like he had the upper hand. The last
thing I needed was for him to report me to
Lieutenant Sears or worse, Chief Pennington for conducting an unauthorized
interrogation of a civilian. I'm sorry to bother you, I added,
(25:40):
before leaving. I slammed my patrol car door shut angry
with myself for what I'd just done. I gripped the
wheel as tightly as I could, imagining myself ripping through
it and tearing it completely off the dash. I wanted
to scream, I wanted to roar. I closed my eyes
and took a deep breath, focusing on letting it back
out as slowly as I could. With it wet the
(26:02):
anger and remnants of the tantrum, my mind felt clearer, quieter.
Then an odor rose up in the car, one that
burned my eyes into opening. It smelled hot, smoky, as
if something were burning. I looked around, expecting to see
smoke filling up the space in my car, but there wasn't.
(26:24):
There was no smoke, only the lingering odor of it.
My heart began to palpitate again, faster and faster. You
must follow the rules. A familiar, raspy voice spoke behind me.
I looked into the rear view mirror and saw the
charred body of the little boy sitting in the back seat.
His features were indistinguishable, and he looked as if he
(26:44):
were made of scorched, blackened wood. Fiery embers burned within
his seared, segmented construction where his mouth would be split
open and expelled soot and ashes. As he spoke again,
the consequences for not following the rules would be dire detrimental.
With a shaky voice, I responded, keeping my eyes glued
(27:05):
to his image in the mirror, what do you want
from me? Instead of answering my question, the wicked figure
began to cackle like a witch. His vocalization jagged and crippled.
Then suddenly I felt a searing pain on my left calf.
It felt as if someone had placed a hot iron
directly against my skin. I screamed out in pain and
thrashed about in my seat. I threw the door open
(27:27):
and stumbled out into the snow, collapsing to the ground.
I gripped my teeth and lifted my pant leg to
see what had happened to my skin. I saw five
small shapes on my calf that resembled the fingers in
a handprint. They were black with a bloody red outline.
The blood that defined the prints began to drip down
my leg. As the pain started to subside, I lowered
(27:49):
my pant leg back over the bizarre burning lesion. I
stood up, wiping snow from my pants. And jacket and
looked into the back seat of my patrol car. It
was empty. There was nothing, no one. It was another
warning from my mysterious phantom stalker from Stephen. I was
(28:10):
trying to make sense of it all, and what I
was starting to think was that Stephen was angry with me,
even in death. I ran from the house that night
and left them all for dead. I did nothing to
save them, nothing to help them. Now I was paying
for it. When I got home from work, I took
a nap. I woke up when I heard Logan and
(28:32):
Mason Beryl into the house after school. They told me
about their days, but I felt like I was barely
paying attention. My mind was swimming with thoughts of murders
and phantoms, guilt and pain, both emotional and physical. I
kept checking my calf each time, thinking the burned imprint
wouldn't be there, and that it would have just been
(28:52):
another hallucination or apparition like Stephen's spectral appearance had been.
But every time I looked there it was. I wore
pants and high socks to keep it out of Anika's
line of sight if she saw it. I wasn't even
sure how I would begin to explain it. The rest
of the day and evening went by in a hazy blur.
(29:13):
WE ate dinner lazily watched TV as a family, and
then once the kids were in bed, Anika and I
turned in as well. She was asleep before the Seinfel
to rerun on our bedroom TV was even halfway over.
I turned it off at that point and struggled to
fall asleep for at least the next hour. But as
soon as I did, blam. I was abruptly woken by
(29:35):
a hard, loud bang from downstairs. I sat up and
awaited hearing it again, thinking maybe it was a dream
I had just fallen into. I looked over at the
clock radio. It was eleven forty five. Blam, it happened again.
I jumped out of bed and hurried down the hallway,
where I perched myself at the top of the stairs.
I heard the saunter of a winter wind piping through
(29:56):
the downstairs area. A bitter chill caught my neck and arms,
letting me know our house was exposed vulnerable. I scampered
down the stairs and straight for the front door. It
was wide open, kinetic, and the winter winds outside. I
hurried over and pushed it shut, locking it and then
securing the dead bolt. Once the sharp scent of the
December air was separated from the house, a new scent
(30:19):
surged inside. It was smoky, pungent. I crept around the
corner to the living room. The Advent calendar sat on
the table next to the fireplace. My stomach lurched and
I exhaled faintly. The smoky odor was now mixing with
the briny scent of the ocean. Where the Advent calendar
had been cast out by my own hands. I watched
(30:41):
the waves carry it away from the shore. This was impossible.
The lesions on the back of my calf began to
ache and sting. I cringed and weakly stepped away. When
I turned round, standing at the foot of the stairwell,
sunken back into the shadows was the gloomy vision of
Stephen again. For the speckled glows of burning embers throughout
(31:02):
his body, I wouldn't have even seen him in the darkness.
You can't stop this, Matthew, his mutilated voice, said, you
must play by the rules, one day at a time.
He then lifted his finger and pointed in the direction
of the calendar. The unsettled fear that swirled within me
began to succumb to a rising takeover of pure anger
(31:24):
and safeguarding. I don't want to be a part of it,
I hissed through my teeth. You're not real, You're dead.
The phantom cackled again, and then suddenly burst in a violent,
resentful detonation of ashes and embers. Once the spectral display
of self implosion had ended and its floating debris fizzled
and faded away, the house fell into a calm, eerie silence.
(31:49):
Clearly he wasn't happy with my scornful response, but I'd
had enough of this game. I didn't want to be
a part of it. I wouldn't be. I looked back
into the room, where the event calendar stood like a
haunting monolith, waiting to deliver me another fragment of bad news.
Door number eight was still closed, and as far as
(32:09):
I was concerned, it could just stay that way. Thanks
for listening. If you like what you're hearing, please share
it with someone you know who loves scary stories 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 Weirddarkness dot com slash Advent of Evil.
(32:32):
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 Weird Darkness
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