December 15, 2025 • 37 mins
Get the print version of the novel: https://weirddarkness.com/AdventOfEvil
Fourteen doors have been opened. Fourteen horrors have been unleashed upon Marshport. And now, for the first time, the calendar has changed its pattern.Behind door fourteen, Matthew Klein found something he hadn't encountered before — a second door. Locked. Immovable. And behind it, the unmistakable drone of flies, buzzing in the darkness, waiting for whatever comes next.The calendar has never withheld before. Every door has delivered its grim prophecy on schedule, each trinket a harbinger of tragedy to follow. But now the entity seems to be holding something back, building toward something larger. The flies from door twelve. The maggots. The sound of buzzing once again behind the locked second door. These horrors have accumulated without resolution, stacking like kindling before a flame.Pastor Hart's words echo in Matthew's mind: You have a demon. Not a haunting. Not a curse. A demon — ancient, deliberate, and patient. The pastor promised to call a friend, a priest with experience in matters most clergy never face. Demonology. The word itself feels like an admission that ordinary faith may not be enough.Ten doors remain until Christmas Eve. Ten days until the anniversary of the fire that consumed Matthew's family and birthed this nightmare. The calendar was built from the ashes of that night — from the charred remains of the spirit board that released something unspeakable into the world. Wilbur Ward's hands may have shaped the wood, but the intelligence behind it is far older and far darker than any man.Lewis Chambers is dead. Ren Nguyen is dead. Bridgett Carr, Gwen Martin — the calendar's body count grows with each passing day, and Matthew remains powerless to stop it. Compliance brings death to innocents. Defiance brings suffering to his family. The demon has engineered a perfect trap, and every door Matthew opens tightens the noose.The hooded figure continues to appear at the edges of tragedy, glimpsed in security footage, spotted by witnesses, standing motionless in the road as Lewis's patrol car swerved to its doom. Is it Wilbur Ward, still serving the entity after thirty years? Or something else entirely — something that wears human shape the way the calendar wears the facade of holiday tradition?December 15th arrives cold and gray over Marshport. The locked door waits. The flies continue to buzz.And somewhere, a priest prepares to face what dwells within.
#WeirdDarkness #ChristmasHorror #HolidayHorror #SupernaturalThriller #HauntedCalendar #DarkChristmas #HorrorStory #DemonicEvil #CreepyTales #YuletideTerror
Fourteen doors have been opened. Fourteen horrors have been unleashed upon Marshport. And now, for the first time, the calendar has changed its pattern.Behind door fourteen, Matthew Klein found something he hadn't encountered before — a second door. Locked. Immovable. And behind it, the unmistakable drone of flies, buzzing in the darkness, waiting for whatever comes next.The calendar has never withheld before. Every door has delivered its grim prophecy on schedule, each trinket a harbinger of tragedy to follow. But now the entity seems to be holding something back, building toward something larger. The flies from door twelve. The maggots. The sound of buzzing once again behind the locked second door. These horrors have accumulated without resolution, stacking like kindling before a flame.Pastor Hart's words echo in Matthew's mind: You have a demon. Not a haunting. Not a curse. A demon — ancient, deliberate, and patient. The pastor promised to call a friend, a priest with experience in matters most clergy never face. Demonology. The word itself feels like an admission that ordinary faith may not be enough.Ten doors remain until Christmas Eve. Ten days until the anniversary of the fire that consumed Matthew's family and birthed this nightmare. The calendar was built from the ashes of that night — from the charred remains of the spirit board that released something unspeakable into the world. Wilbur Ward's hands may have shaped the wood, but the intelligence behind it is far older and far darker than any man.Lewis Chambers is dead. Ren Nguyen is dead. Bridgett Carr, Gwen Martin — the calendar's body count grows with each passing day, and Matthew remains powerless to stop it. Compliance brings death to innocents. Defiance brings suffering to his family. The demon has engineered a perfect trap, and every door Matthew opens tightens the noose.The hooded figure continues to appear at the edges of tragedy, glimpsed in security footage, spotted by witnesses, standing motionless in the road as Lewis's patrol car swerved to its doom. Is it Wilbur Ward, still serving the entity after thirty years? Or something else entirely — something that wears human shape the way the calendar wears the facade of holiday tradition?December 15th arrives cold and gray over Marshport. The locked door waits. The flies continue to buzz.And somewhere, a priest prepares to face what dwells within.
#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):
Fourteen doors have opened, fourteen horrors have been unleashed upon Marshport,
and now, for the first time, the calendar has changed
its pattern. Behind door fourteen, Matthew Klein found something he
hadn't encountered before, a second door, locked immovable, and behind
(00:23):
it the unmistakable drone of flies buzzing in the darkness,
waiting for whatever comes next. The calendar has never withheld before.
Every door has delivered its grim prophecy on schedule, each
trinket a harbinger of tragedy to follow. But now the
entity seems to be holding something back, building towards something larger.
(00:45):
The flies from door twelve, the maggots, the sound of
buzzing once again behind the locked a second door. These
horrors have accumulated without resolution, stacking like kindling before a flame.
Pastor Hart's words etches in Matthew's mind. You have a demon,
not a haunting, not a curse, a demon, ancient, deliberate,
(01:09):
and patient. The pastor promised to call a friend, a
priest with experience in matters. Most clergy never face demonology.
The word itself feels like an admission that ordinary faith
may not be enough. Ten doors remain until Christmas Eve,
ten days until the anniversary of the fire that consumed
(01:30):
Matthew's family and birthed this nightmare. The calendar was built
from the ashes of that night, from the charred remains
of the spirit board that released something unspeakable into the world.
Wilber Ward's hands may have shaped the wood, but the
intelligence behind it is far older and far darker than
(01:50):
any man. Lewis Chambers is dead, Rennuen is dead, Rigid
Carr Gwen Martin's body count grows with each passing day,
and Matthew remains powerless to stop it. Compliance brings death
to innocence, Defiance brings suffering to his family. The demon
(02:13):
has engineered a perfect trap, and every door Matthew opens
tightens the noose. The hooded figure continues to appear at
the edges of tragedy, glimpsed in security footage spotted by witnesses,
standing motionless in the road as Lewis's patrol car swerved
to its doom. Is it wil Reward still serving the
(02:34):
entity after thirty years, or something else entirely, something that
wears human shape the way the calendar wears the facade
of holiday tradition December fifteenth arrives, cold and gray over Marshport.
The locked door waits, The flies continue to buzz, and
(02:54):
somewhere a priest prepares to face what dwells within. Welcome Weirdos.
(03:36):
I'm Darren 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
(03:56):
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. Monday, December fifteenth, The door in
(04:28):
front of me was closed locked. I've been looking for
it ever since I opened the fourteenth door on the
Advent calendar. I wasn't sure where I'd find it or
what it would look like, but I knew this was it.
It had to be. It was a heavy wooden door
that looked like the wand from Pastor Hart's study. The
knob was golden with scuff marks all around it, leading
(04:50):
me to believe many people had tried to hastily open
it before, but to no avail. But there was a
difference between all of those previous people and me. I
had the sole power to open doors that no one
else could. I'd been opening the advent calendar all month,
which was an impossible task for anyone else in my family.
(05:12):
They were either too weak or not worthy. I reached
for the knob, gripped it, and turned it, its interior
mechanisms grinding and scraping against one another. The lock popped,
and I pulled the door open. It was dark on
the other side, but as my eyes adjusted, another door
came into focus. I grabbed that knob and tried to
(05:34):
turn it, but it wouldn't move. It was almost as
if it were one, with the door all one solid
piece open. I growled under my breath. I needed to
see what was behind the door. I needed to know
what the next threat was. Yad, A small voice spoke
behind me. I released my grip on the door knob
(05:54):
and turned around, standing in the falling snow against a
curtain of blackness. Was Mason. What are you doing up?
I asked him. It's late, that's behind that door. He asked,
I don't know. You're lying, he then said, causing a
tingle of guilt to numb my face. No, I pleaded,
I'm not. I just I'm just trying to protect you.
(06:16):
I'm trying to protect all of you. Mason stood incredibly still,
unmoving and silent. The snow fell around him like he
was the sole centerpiece of a snow globe. Mason, did
you hear me? Then? Right before my eyes, Mason's entire
form changed. His young, vibrant skin withered away to a blackened,
(06:37):
scorched state. Within his cinder, tiny red embers began to
throb to life, glowing and pulsating with ferocity. They began
to connect to one another through a network of equally
hot and quivering threadlike pathways. He did hear us, Matthew,
the scorched apparition of Stephen, said before me, his voice
mangled in coarse. Uncle David heard us, but he wasn't
(07:00):
the one who responded. I stood there with my back
to the locked door, shivering in the falling snow. Somewhere
in the empty void that engulfed us, I could hear
muffled Christmas music playing. I looked around, but all I
saw was darkness. I returned my attention to Stephen. Why
my voice quaked? What did I do to deserve this?
(07:24):
Stephen cackled fiendishly behind it. I heard the buzzing of flies.
Just then, all of the falling snowflakes turned into tiny
flying bugs and swarmed me. I panicked and chaotically swatted
at them. I spun around and tried the door one
more time to escape the onslaught of bugs, and to
my surprise, the door opened with ease. I stumbled into
(07:45):
the bright hot room and slammed the door shut behind me,
cutting off the flies. I caught my breath and slowly
turned around. I was in my living room, the living
room from my childhood. Before me, I could see versions
of myself and Stephen and sitting at the table, our
hands on the spirit board. The entire house was on fire,
but neither of the children in front of me seemed
(08:06):
to mind. They continued to make a figure eight motion
with the planchette over and over behind them. I saw
two figures standing in the doorway, side by side and
holding hands. They were fully engulfed in flames, but appeared
unfazed by their distress. Mom Dad. I called out to
the burning figures, but they didn't move. They just looked
(08:28):
on while the child version of me and Stephen continued
to swirl around the planchette. Smoke billowed up from the
center of the spirit board, twisting and spreading its ghostly
disease like an unnatural fog. Within it, something took shape.
I squinted, trying to get a better look. It was
something large, devilish. It was a beast of some kind.
(08:50):
Its head was massive and flowing with a mane of fiery,
bristly hair. Its eyes were as red as hot coals.
The hiss of a thousand snakes irrupted from this. Then,
in an instant, Stephen's body burst into ash and fell
to the ground. My parents' bodies met the same fate,
their black, dusty remains dropping to the floor like sand.
(09:12):
The devilish beast in the smoke and flames faced me
and I stiffened up in fear. My teeth chattered so
hard that they broke and fell out of my mouth
in tiny, bloody shards. Then below the beast, I saw
someone crawling out from underneath the table, someone who should
have never been there. He was clowing his way toward me,
crying and burning. It was Simon Welch. I reached out
(09:35):
for him, Simon, this is all your fault, Matt. He
screamed at me while his mouth was open. Rogue flames
crawled inside and turned his eyes white. Then he was
violently pulled back into the fiery depths of my past.
I wanted to scream out in anger. My past had
done this to him, to all of the people I
cared for. It was my fault. This was all my fault.
(09:58):
The burning odor that filled the house faded, transitioning into
something foul and repugnant. It now stunk of rotting eggs
or a dead animal that had been deteriorating out in
the sun for days. I covered my mouth and gagged,
vomiting up blood as well as my insides as I
watched them gorrily splash on the floor in front of me.
I heard another voice, Dad, It said It was muffled
(10:22):
at first, but then spoke louder and clearer the second time. Dad.
I opened my eyes. I was drenched in sweat, with
a racing heart and nauseated stomach. I looked to my
left and saw Annika sound asleep snoring. Dad, the voice
said again. I sat up and looked at our bedroom door.
The night light in the hallway outlined the silhouette of
(10:44):
a young boy in the doorway. I thought of Stephen,
but then I realized this was all real now, and
not a nightmare. I flipped on the lamp next to
the bed and saw Mason standing in the doorway with
his stuffed bear gripped tightly in his hands. Buddy, I said,
climbing out of bed and ushering him out of the room.
(11:04):
He noticed the sweat ripping from my head. Are you sick,
he asked? No, why, I whispered as to not wake
Logan as we passed by his room. You're saked, he said.
When we got to his room, I turned the light
on and closed the door. Now I'm not sick, I said.
Mason talked at me, you're sweating and read and lying.
(11:29):
I just stood there, facing off against him and his accusations.
Yet again, he was very attentive. I was sweating, I
was probably red, and my stomach was nauseous my side.
I feel a little ill, but it's because when you
came in, I was having a nightmare. I put my
(11:49):
hand on his shoulder and smiled. I should thank you
for waking me up when you did. Why did you
dream about? He asked. I contemplated what to say. If
I said something silly, he'd just blamed me for lying again,
so I figured a tame version of truth would be
more appropriate. A fire, huh, A monster people I care
(12:11):
about being hurt. Mason didn't respond. He just gripped his
bear tighter. I knelt, meeting him at eye level. Can
I ask you something? I whispered. He looked at me.
Why do you think I've been lying to you? Why
have you been so hostile toward me? At first, Mason
(12:33):
didn't speak. He either didn't want to say or didn't
want me to get mad at what it was. I
won't get mad, I assured him. His lips quivered slightly,
and he looked down at his bear, which he was
now pulling at. I heard a slight tear in the
fabric and quickly grabbed his hand to stop him from
ripping it any further. It was you that ripped the
(12:54):
bear wasn't it. Mason's eyes began to fill with tears.
It was hard not to see my own innocent little
brother in him. He looked fearful, maybe even stressed. It
was no wonder that the bear had met so much
foul play. Have you seen a little boy in the house?
I asked, one that isn't logan. Mason froze, his eyes
(13:18):
became vast. The question clearly caught him off guard, but
I could already tell what his answer was going to be.
What did he tell you? I pushed. Mason opened his
mouth to speak, but stopped himself. It's okay, I encouraged
him with a smile. You can tell me I've seen
him too. Mason opened his mouth again, and his soft
(13:41):
voice squeaked out. He said, you killed him. He said
that you let him die long ago, and that you'd
been lying about it ever since. He said. Mason stopped.
He said, what that you'll let the same thing happen
to us too, No, I said, he lying. I would
(14:01):
never let you, your brother, or your mom get hurt
like that. He is he a ghost? I struggled to
find the words. How do you explain a torturous, demonic
force to a seven year old without scarring him for
life or scaring him to death. I don't know what
he is, I said, but if you see him again,
(14:22):
tell me immediately, and whatever you do, don't listen to him.
Mason nodded, swallowed hard, and then nervously asked another question.
Is he not the man who brought the snakes to
kill me? The tall man who wore all black? I asked,
recalling what Mason had told me the morning I left
for Bayville. He nodded. I don't know, I said, knowing
(14:45):
it was a lie, but still unsure of who the
man was. If it was the same man I thought
it was, he was real, unlike the apparition of Stephen.
Did he have a beard? I asked. Mason nodded, and
the other day you said that I knew this man.
How do you know that the boy told me? Do
(15:08):
you know who it is the man? I asked. Mason
shook his head, and then I stood up from my
crouched position. If you see either of them again, especially
that man, come to me immediately. Mason consented, and then
I got him settled back into bed. I kissed him
on the forehead and gave him a reassuring smile, or
(15:29):
at least one that I hoped would calm the stress
he was feeling. Yes, I'm sleep and we'll be morning
before you know it, and I want you to be
rested for school. Mason responded with a nod while he yawned.
Good night Dad. He said, good night, Mason, I love you.
Mason rolled over and hugged his bear. I flipped off
(15:50):
the light and left the room. When I awoke, the
bright light of day was flowing in through the bedroom curtains.
I rolled over to check the time, nine thirty am.
I quickly sat up, getting a rush of a notion
that I was late for something. But as I sat
on the edge of my bed for a moment, coming
out of my deep sleep, I realized that it was
(16:12):
Monday and I had nowhere to be aside from home
and waiting on a call from Pastor Hart. The bed
was empty aside from me, and now that I was awake,
I could hear Anika's voice muffled downstairs talking to someone
another woman, Jasmine perhaps. I brushed my teeth and tossed
on a sweatshirt and ball cap before heading downstairs. In
(16:34):
the kitchen, just as I expected, Anika and Jasmine were
at the table. The box of donuts from the Joe
and Go cafe was open on the counter, as was
a box of to go coffee and a stack of
styrofoam cups. The Joe and Go opened again, I asked,
Jasmine smiled, yup, they reopened this morning. It was a
relief to hear that Karl Martin opened to the cafe again.
(16:57):
In a weird way, it was encouraging, an indication that
some things were going back to normal. Life continues on,
even in the face of tragedy, or multiple tragedies. Annika
stood up from the table and gave me a kiss
and hug good morning. She said, I'd kiss you good
morning too, but I'm afraid it wouldn't really go over
well with your wife. Jasmine quipped as she tossed her
(17:19):
shining brown hair over her shoulder, generating a laugh from
both Annika and I. You know I have a thing
for cops, she concluded with a flirty, yet joking link.
At the mention of cops, the laughter began to fade
and a heaviness filled its space. I'm sorry about Louis,
Jasmine said, woefully. I acknowledged her words with an appreciative
(17:42):
smile and grabbed a cruller from the doughnut box. Any
word on funeral arrangements yet, she asked, looking to both
Annaika and I for an answer. I haven't heard, I said,
I'm sure tide's end is starting to get busy. Annika
could tell I was feeling uncomfortable, so she changed the subject.
I hadn't been able to deal properly yet with Lewis's passing,
(18:04):
and it was something that hung over me like a
dark cloud, especially given the sinister grounds behind it that
weren't known by Marshpoard as a whole. Jasmine and I
were going to head out and do some Christmas shopping,
if that's okay, Annika said. Time's ticking away, and I
have a list of things for Logan and Mason I'd
like to add to the clutter of presents under the
tree this year, sure, I said, pouring a cup of coffee.
(18:27):
You don't mind dealing with everything here by yourself, Annika wondered,
and obvious to me hint in her voice that she
might not have wanted to be around if Pastor Hart's
priest decided to make an appearance. Not at all, I said,
I'll be all right. Annika thanked me in silence with
a loving, sensitive smile. I could tell by the cryptic
nature in which we were communicating that she had not
(18:49):
told Jasmine anything about the calendar, it's connection to me,
and what had been transpiring around town. Jasmine was a
good person, a friendly soul, and very protective of logan
An Mason. Over the years, the boys had developed quite
the attachment to her as well, even calling her Aunt
Jasmine on occasion, despite her not even being related to
(19:10):
the family. If she thought, for any reason the boys
were in danger, I wouldn't doubt for one second that
she would act on it in some way or another.
It was nearly noon when Pastor Hart's name crawled across
the face of my phone, accompanied with a vibration that
made it skip across the table. Annika and Jasmine had left,
(19:31):
the kids were at school, and I was alone in
the house, stress, eating the rest of the doughnuts and
draining the to go box of coffee. Hello, I answered
the phone, my voice cracking with anxiety. Pastor Hart's voice
didn't crack, but it was dry and direct. Good afternoon, Matthew.
I spoke with Father Olson early this morning. He's based
in Port Noa, maybe about thirty minutes up the coast.
(19:53):
He said he'd be happy he'd come by today and
assess your situation. I exhaled in relief. Thank you, Russell,
I said, you have no idea how much I appreciate this.
Master Hart was silent for a moment, and then continued,
he'll be there early this afternoon. I took a deep breath.
Did he say based on what you told him? If
(20:15):
he thinks I have, he won't know until he's there,
Pastor Hart interrupted, Most people who claim to have a
demonic prisence don't. I was taken back by what he
had just said. Yeah, but you said you even saw
I don't know what I saw him, Matthew, I can't
explain it. I'm not educated enough to understand it. Father
Olsen will be there soon. If there truly is a
(20:38):
problem and you're home, he'll be able to help. I
couldn't believe Pastor Hart was trying to play it off
as nothing blood spewed all over him, funneling straight out
of the advent calendar, unless he thought it was rigged
or a sick prank of some kind. I couldn't imagine
why the change in tone, not to mention all the
(20:58):
other things I told him, Did he not believe me? Okay,
I said, I appreciate your calling. Before I could even finish,
he ended the call, and I was left there in
my kitchen, surrounded by silence and a lingering sense of abandonment.
I sincerely hoped Pastor Hart's actions were based in fear
(21:18):
of the unknown and not in a belief that he
was being fooled denial. That had to be it, because
just yesterday he said that, without a doubt, I had
a demon. A texted Anaka to explain what was happening
and told her that if she wanted to stay out
longer to avoid having to be home during father Olsen's
(21:40):
examination of our house, she could. She decided they would
go back to Jasmine's house after shopping for a little while,
and I would let her know when the assessment was over.
Based on what I relayed to her, she also believed
past her heart to be in a state of denial
or refusal to accept what was real. But we knew
what we were dealing with. Pastor Hart didn't want to
(22:01):
accept it or give it the time of day. That
was his decision. As unfortunate as that was, it was
nearly two pm when there was a knock at the
front door. With it being later than I expected, I
hoped that whatever the priest had to do would be
over within an hour before the school bus dropped off
Logan and Mason. I opened the door in a welcoming manner,
(22:24):
with light flurries falling around him. A man stood on
the porch. His clerical shirt and collar were clearly visible
underneath the black pea coat he was wearing. In one hand.
He held a dark bag at his side. He was
a middle aged man, still with a thick, feathery head
of black hair and dark scruff around his chin and neck.
I extended my hand, Father Elsen, I presume, he smiled
(22:48):
and shook my hand back. Yes, and you must be
a Matthew Kleine Russell has told me a lot about you. Great,
I thought, based on how Pastor Hart had started acting,
and I wasn't sure if that was a good thing
or a bad thing. Come in, please, I said, stepping
aside and allowing Father Olson in. We stood in the
foyer for a moment. As he removed his coat, I
(23:10):
took it from him and hung it on the rack.
Then he looked at me. Russell told me everything has
been happening, we said, He told me about the blood
that covered him. Sounds like an act of aggression or
a statement against God. So you believe me, I asked.
I'm known Russell for many years. I have no reason
to doubt his word. Father Olsen looked around. Where is
(23:33):
the Advent calendar in the living room by the fireplace,
I said, gesturing in that direction. Father Olsen opened his
bag and extracted a small clear bottle with a golden
cross insignia. He held it up to me holy water.
He said, it'll cause your demon great distress and hopefully
drive it away. So you also think that there could
(23:54):
be a demon here? Like I said, mister Klein, I
have no reason to doubt what my friend has told me.
Father Olsen walked through the archway into the living room,
splashing holy water as he did so. He saw the
Advent calendar sitting on the table to the right of
the fireplace. To the left, he noticed our Nativity scene
scattered in pieces on the floor. He smirked. I ticket,
(24:17):
that's not where you normally keep that, he said. Now,
I said, confused. It was on that table all set up.
Father Olsen splashed holy water in the direction of the
Nativity scene, and then more toward the calendar. As he
approached it. He stood a couple feet away and studied
the object. I've seen mirrors, books, dolls, paintings all act
(24:40):
as vessels for a demon. This is the first time
I've seen an advent calendar. Father Olsen said it was
built from the burned remains of a spirit board. I
told him. Father Olsen turned and locked eyes with me.
Spirit boards should never be burned, he said ominously. It
allows for the spirit that are connected to it to
(25:01):
rome free and even attached themselves to other people. I
immediately thought of the fire and how Wilbur Ward heroically
raced toward it. If the evil spirit had been freed
by the flames at that point, that would have explained
how it was able to attach itself to him. It
was an accident, I explained, the fire that burned it.
(25:23):
Father Olsen pivoted his entire body toward me. Russell said,
you were trying to contact your uncle. I nodded, yeah.
We were just kids. We didn't really know what we
were doing. Our uncle was dead. And we wanted to
talk to him again. We didn't know at the time
that he'd done some horrible things to people. Did you
use the board properly? I thought back. We had the
(25:48):
lights dim and the candles lit. Both our hands were
on the planchet. How did the planchet move? After we
asked our uncle if he was there, if he could
hear us, the plan chet shot to the upper corner
of the board, over the top of the word Yes.
Before that, Stephen was just swirling it around the board.
(26:09):
Father Olsen squinted, swirling it around like an infinity sign
figure eight. I nodded, and he turned his concern to
look back toward the calendar. That specific motion on a
spirit board is a sign that it shelters on the
level in spirit. Something was itching to get out. Your
brother wasn't the one making that motion. He turned back
(26:33):
to me. Who gave you the board? My grandmother? Did
she know what it was capable of? I shrugged. I
don't think so. She loved us. If she knew, I
don't think she would have ever subjected us to it.
She died a week later of a sudden heart attack,
so I never got to ask her about it. Father
(26:53):
Olsen leaned forward, inching closer to the calendar. Russell said
that every door you open reveals something dark and dangerous,
which one shot the blood at him. I pointed to
door number ten. Father Olsen examined it, using his fingers
to bat around the open door. He peered inside, seeing
(27:14):
the yes, the twenty three, and the L and M.
He then turned his attention to the engraved face centered
on the calendar. As he inspected it, I felt a
sudden twinge in my calf, like someone was squeezing the
wound and digging their nails deep into it. I cringed
as my body went cold flush and could smell something awful.
(27:34):
Rotting eggs make him leave. The angry, maimed voice of
Stephen whispered in my ear. Father Olsen abruptly turned to me,
and I assumed he'd heard the whisper also, but he
sniffed the air instead. Do you smell that? He asked quietly.
I nodded, still holding back from expressing how much pain
(27:55):
my calf was in. He lifted his bottle of holy
water and splashed it on either side to me. Futrid
smells can be indications of a demonic presence, he said.
I could see him beginning to grow restless and uneasy.
Have you had nightmares? Yes? I swallowed hard last night
about what the fire from my childhood, my dead brother,
(28:18):
my friends and family being dragged through my own personal hell.
A beast what kind of beast? I couldn't really tell,
there was so much happening. It had red hot eyes,
a large, fiery mane that was bunched up around its
head like a lion. Father Olsen asked. I nodded slowly,
(28:40):
remembering the dream. But I'm sure if it's what I
saw in real life. Were there snakes? He asked, with
a sense of confidence. I thought back to the dream.
As the beast appeared in the smoke and flames, I
did hear what I could only describe as a chorus
of hissing. I nodded again, Yes, a lot of them.
(29:01):
There were real snakes in my house too. They came
out of the calendar, and one really large one tried
to kill my son. Father Olsen stormed right by me
back into the foyer and picked up his bag. I
followed him. Where are you going, I asked. He rifled
through his bag looking for something specific, get rid of him.
Stephen's ghastly voice whispered again in my ear, more aggressively.
(29:24):
He was losing his patience with me. Father Olsen pulled
a wooden cross out from his bag. At the sight
of it, I felt afraid. An overwhelming acceptance of how
real this all was flushed over me and made my
stomach twinge. He held it up to me and I
heard a disembodied scream behind me. It set my nerves
on edge and caused every hair on the back of
my neck to stand at attention. Did did you hear that?
(29:47):
I stammered fearfully. The way Father Olsen looked at me
indicated that he had not heard anything. He was just
showing me the tool in his hand. This is a crucifix,
he said, Do you know what these do? I turned
around to see if I could locate the origin of
the scream that chilled my entire body, Matthew. Father Olsen
demanded my attention back. This is a very powerful sacramental
(30:10):
article with prayers and blessings eternally bonded to it. I'm
going to hang it by the fireplace near the calendar.
You are not to touch it, do you understand? I nodded,
I'm going to bless the rest of this house with
holy water and say a few prayers. He continued, in
a dead serious tone. You wade out front and we'll
(30:31):
talk more out there. Get rid of him now. Stephen's
voice hissed like a serpent, angrier than I'd ever heard it, Matthew,
father Olsen said, grabbing my attention away from my dead
brother's threatening voice. Go outside now. I did as he said.
I grabbed my coat from the rack and waited on
the porch. As I shivered outside alone, I heard heavy
(30:53):
wheezing breaths beside me, expelling the putrid odor of rotting eggs.
I turned, expecting to see a creature breathing on me
at close range, but there was nothing. Just then mcaf
rrupted in pain again. It felt like hundreds of beastings
all at once. I stiffened up, as if my entire
body had been injected with a paralyzing poison. I heard
(31:14):
Stephen's voice in one ear and then the other, swapping
back and forth, trying to throw off my equilibrium. I
commanded you to get rid of him. His voice wheezed.
You disobeyed me. You didn't play by the rules. I
shivered in a coold fear, unsure of if I should
respond or not. Once again, you must suffer the consequences,
(31:37):
Stephen taunted, his grim voice, then drifting away with a
brisk wind. The front door opened and Father Olsen walked
out onto the porch. He had his coat on and
carried his bag at his side. He looked a little
flush and a little nervous. He closed the door behind
him and stood with me. I did what I could
for now, at least, he said. The cross is with
(31:58):
the calendar. Don't separate the two. Can't I get rid
of the calendar somehow? I asked him. I won't that
stop it. You've tried it before, right by throwing it
into the ocean. I nodded, realizing that if I tried
it again, it would just show back up. I fear
you're dealing with a specific demon, one called Zervon. I squinted. Zervon,
(32:22):
I've never heard of it. Father Olsen nodded, dipped his hat,
and continued, it sends from Persian Mithraism. In Mithraism, there
were midwinter festivals dedicated solely to the worship of Servon,
and the celebrations would always culminate on December twenty fourth.
December twenty fourth, I thought funny how the Advent calendar
(32:45):
also ended on the twenty fourth. Why do you think
he's the demon? I asked? The engraving on the calendar,
the one of the bearded man in his human form,
Zervon was said to be a bearded figure who held
an object that symbolized the the cynical, ironic nature of time.
In your case, the calendar itself would be that object,
(33:06):
and the dimension of time would be somehow connected to
your past. How many years ago did all of this
start for you? Thirty years ago? I said, I was ten?
Does ten mean anything to you? Now? I froze my son?
A logan is ten and Mason's seven, the same age
(33:28):
Stephen was when he died. Father Olsen noticed my discomfort.
Reserve On, or any demon for that matter, time is irrelevant.
They wait without angst and reveal themselves when it best
fits their needs their predators. They derive pleasure from trickery, torment,
and psychological deception, not to mention bounts of unprecedented violence.
(33:53):
I swallowed heart, realizing that this Demonservon has been lingering
and waiting for thirty years to un leash all of this,
and for what, just because it wanted to something else,
Father Olsen said made me curious as well. You said
in his human form, he was a bearded man, what
(34:13):
is his non human form? Servon was a monstrous abomination.
He had the head of a lion, always twisted in
an angry snarl, and his limbs were wrapped in coils
of writhing, striking serpents, lions, snakes, A mysterious bearded man,
the cynical time factor. It all came back to Servon.
(34:36):
I had no reason to doubt Father Olsen's assessment. What
do I do? I asked, quaking before the man who
came to help me, Father Olsen, just looked at me.
Eventually a slight smile broke on his face. Pray. Once
Father Olsen left, I went back into my house. It
felt noticeably colder to me, and I felt like a
(34:58):
stranger in it, like I in someone else's domain. There
been something else living with us for the past two weeks,
something that had burrowed into our lives. Controlled every emotion,
played with every fear, all because it wanted to. It
was clearly in charge and felt more like the dominant
presence now more than I ever did in my own
(35:20):
home when it birthed from the spirit board thirty years ago.
It wasn't ready to part with me. It just waited,
And now it was here. Zervon was here wreaking havoc
and causing mayhem during his midwinter time of worship. But
that worship, that celebration he relished, was coming to end soon.
(35:43):
On the twenty fourth of December, to be exact, I
walked into the living room and stood before the Advent calendar.
My eyes briefly caught the crucifix hanging on the wall
behind it. But then I leered at the little door
with number twenty four stenciled on it. I wondered how
his celebration would end. My eyes then wandered up to
(36:06):
today's door and I pinched the little handle. I pulled
on it and opened the door. Inside. I felt a
bunch of small, jagged, sharp fragments. As I moved my
fingers over them, they preacked me and scraped against the wood.
I cupped my other hand and placed it against the calendar,
brushing out the tiny fragments into it where they had
(36:28):
pricked my fingers. They now had drops of blood on them.
It was glass, tiny shards of shattered glass. 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
(36:48):
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 are posted. I'm Daryn Marler.
Thanks for celebrating Advent with me in the Weird Darkness
Fourteen doors have opened, fourteen horrors have been unleashed upon Marshport,
and now, for the first time, the calendar has changed
its pattern. Behind door fourteen, Matthew Klein found something he
hadn't encountered before, a second door, locked immovable, and behind
(00:23):
it the unmistakable drone of flies buzzing in the darkness,
waiting for whatever comes next. The calendar has never withheld before.
Every door has delivered its grim prophecy on schedule, each
trinket a harbinger of tragedy to follow. But now the
entity seems to be holding something back, building towards something larger.
(00:45):
The flies from door twelve, the maggots, the sound of
buzzing once again behind the locked a second door. These
horrors have accumulated without resolution, stacking like kindling before a flame.
Pastor Hart's words etches in Matthew's mind. You have a demon,
not a haunting, not a curse, a demon, ancient, deliberate,
(01:09):
and patient. The pastor promised to call a friend, a
priest with experience in matters. Most clergy never face demonology.
The word itself feels like an admission that ordinary faith
may not be enough. Ten doors remain until Christmas Eve,
ten days until the anniversary of the fire that consumed
(01:30):
Matthew's family and birthed this nightmare. The calendar was built
from the ashes of that night, from the charred remains
of the spirit board that released something unspeakable into the world.
Wilber Ward's hands may have shaped the wood, but the
intelligence behind it is far older and far darker than
(01:50):
any man. Lewis Chambers is dead, Rennuen is dead, Rigid
Carr Gwen Martin's body count grows with each passing day,
and Matthew remains powerless to stop it. Compliance brings death
to innocence, Defiance brings suffering to his family. The demon
(02:13):
has engineered a perfect trap, and every door Matthew opens
tightens the noose. The hooded figure continues to appear at
the edges of tragedy, glimpsed in security footage spotted by witnesses,
standing motionless in the road as Lewis's patrol car swerved
to its doom. Is it wil Reward still serving the
(02:34):
entity after thirty years, or something else entirely, something that
wears human shape the way the calendar wears the facade
of holiday tradition December fifteenth arrives, cold and gray over Marshport.
The locked door waits, The flies continue to buzz, and
(02:54):
somewhere a priest prepares to face what dwells within. Welcome Weirdos.
(03:36):
I'm Darren 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
(03:56):
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. Monday, December fifteenth, The door in
(04:28):
front of me was closed locked. I've been looking for
it ever since I opened the fourteenth door on the
Advent calendar. I wasn't sure where I'd find it or
what it would look like, but I knew this was it.
It had to be. It was a heavy wooden door
that looked like the wand from Pastor Hart's study. The
knob was golden with scuff marks all around it, leading
(04:50):
me to believe many people had tried to hastily open
it before, but to no avail. But there was a
difference between all of those previous people and me. I
had the sole power to open doors that no one
else could. I'd been opening the advent calendar all month,
which was an impossible task for anyone else in my family.
(05:12):
They were either too weak or not worthy. I reached
for the knob, gripped it, and turned it, its interior
mechanisms grinding and scraping against one another. The lock popped,
and I pulled the door open. It was dark on
the other side, but as my eyes adjusted, another door
came into focus. I grabbed that knob and tried to
(05:34):
turn it, but it wouldn't move. It was almost as
if it were one, with the door all one solid
piece open. I growled under my breath. I needed to
see what was behind the door. I needed to know
what the next threat was. Yad, A small voice spoke
behind me. I released my grip on the door knob
(05:54):
and turned around, standing in the falling snow against a
curtain of blackness. Was Mason. What are you doing up?
I asked him. It's late, that's behind that door. He asked,
I don't know. You're lying, he then said, causing a
tingle of guilt to numb my face. No, I pleaded,
I'm not. I just I'm just trying to protect you.
(06:16):
I'm trying to protect all of you. Mason stood incredibly still,
unmoving and silent. The snow fell around him like he
was the sole centerpiece of a snow globe. Mason, did
you hear me? Then? Right before my eyes, Mason's entire
form changed. His young, vibrant skin withered away to a blackened,
(06:37):
scorched state. Within his cinder, tiny red embers began to
throb to life, glowing and pulsating with ferocity. They began
to connect to one another through a network of equally
hot and quivering threadlike pathways. He did hear us, Matthew,
the scorched apparition of Stephen, said before me, his voice
mangled in coarse. Uncle David heard us, but he wasn't
(07:00):
the one who responded. I stood there with my back
to the locked door, shivering in the falling snow. Somewhere
in the empty void that engulfed us, I could hear
muffled Christmas music playing. I looked around, but all I
saw was darkness. I returned my attention to Stephen. Why
my voice quaked? What did I do to deserve this?
(07:24):
Stephen cackled fiendishly behind it. I heard the buzzing of flies.
Just then, all of the falling snowflakes turned into tiny
flying bugs and swarmed me. I panicked and chaotically swatted
at them. I spun around and tried the door one
more time to escape the onslaught of bugs, and to
my surprise, the door opened with ease. I stumbled into
(07:45):
the bright hot room and slammed the door shut behind me,
cutting off the flies. I caught my breath and slowly
turned around. I was in my living room, the living
room from my childhood. Before me, I could see versions
of myself and Stephen and sitting at the table, our
hands on the spirit board. The entire house was on fire,
but neither of the children in front of me seemed
(08:06):
to mind. They continued to make a figure eight motion
with the planchette over and over behind them. I saw
two figures standing in the doorway, side by side and
holding hands. They were fully engulfed in flames, but appeared
unfazed by their distress. Mom Dad. I called out to
the burning figures, but they didn't move. They just looked
(08:28):
on while the child version of me and Stephen continued
to swirl around the planchette. Smoke billowed up from the
center of the spirit board, twisting and spreading its ghostly
disease like an unnatural fog. Within it, something took shape.
I squinted, trying to get a better look. It was
something large, devilish. It was a beast of some kind.
(08:50):
Its head was massive and flowing with a mane of fiery,
bristly hair. Its eyes were as red as hot coals.
The hiss of a thousand snakes irrupted from this. Then,
in an instant, Stephen's body burst into ash and fell
to the ground. My parents' bodies met the same fate,
their black, dusty remains dropping to the floor like sand.
(09:12):
The devilish beast in the smoke and flames faced me
and I stiffened up in fear. My teeth chattered so
hard that they broke and fell out of my mouth
in tiny, bloody shards. Then below the beast, I saw
someone crawling out from underneath the table, someone who should
have never been there. He was clowing his way toward me,
crying and burning. It was Simon Welch. I reached out
(09:35):
for him, Simon, this is all your fault, Matt. He
screamed at me while his mouth was open. Rogue flames
crawled inside and turned his eyes white. Then he was
violently pulled back into the fiery depths of my past.
I wanted to scream out in anger. My past had
done this to him, to all of the people I
cared for. It was my fault. This was all my fault.
(09:58):
The burning odor that filled the house faded, transitioning into
something foul and repugnant. It now stunk of rotting eggs
or a dead animal that had been deteriorating out in
the sun for days. I covered my mouth and gagged,
vomiting up blood as well as my insides as I
watched them gorrily splash on the floor in front of me.
I heard another voice, Dad, It said It was muffled
(10:22):
at first, but then spoke louder and clearer the second time. Dad.
I opened my eyes. I was drenched in sweat, with
a racing heart and nauseated stomach. I looked to my
left and saw Annika sound asleep snoring. Dad, the voice
said again. I sat up and looked at our bedroom door.
The night light in the hallway outlined the silhouette of
(10:44):
a young boy in the doorway. I thought of Stephen,
but then I realized this was all real now, and
not a nightmare. I flipped on the lamp next to
the bed and saw Mason standing in the doorway with
his stuffed bear gripped tightly in his hands. Buddy, I said,
climbing out of bed and ushering him out of the room.
(11:04):
He noticed the sweat ripping from my head. Are you sick,
he asked? No, why, I whispered as to not wake
Logan as we passed by his room. You're saked, he said.
When we got to his room, I turned the light
on and closed the door. Now I'm not sick, I said.
Mason talked at me, you're sweating and read and lying.
(11:29):
I just stood there, facing off against him and his accusations.
Yet again, he was very attentive. I was sweating, I
was probably red, and my stomach was nauseous my side.
I feel a little ill, but it's because when you
came in, I was having a nightmare. I put my
(11:49):
hand on his shoulder and smiled. I should thank you
for waking me up when you did. Why did you
dream about? He asked. I contemplated what to say. If
I said something silly, he'd just blamed me for lying again,
so I figured a tame version of truth would be
more appropriate. A fire, huh, A monster people I care
(12:11):
about being hurt. Mason didn't respond. He just gripped his
bear tighter. I knelt, meeting him at eye level. Can
I ask you something? I whispered. He looked at me.
Why do you think I've been lying to you? Why
have you been so hostile toward me? At first, Mason
(12:33):
didn't speak. He either didn't want to say or didn't
want me to get mad at what it was. I
won't get mad, I assured him. His lips quivered slightly,
and he looked down at his bear, which he was
now pulling at. I heard a slight tear in the
fabric and quickly grabbed his hand to stop him from
ripping it any further. It was you that ripped the
(12:54):
bear wasn't it. Mason's eyes began to fill with tears.
It was hard not to see my own innocent little
brother in him. He looked fearful, maybe even stressed. It
was no wonder that the bear had met so much
foul play. Have you seen a little boy in the house?
I asked, one that isn't logan. Mason froze, his eyes
(13:18):
became vast. The question clearly caught him off guard, but
I could already tell what his answer was going to be.
What did he tell you? I pushed. Mason opened his
mouth to speak, but stopped himself. It's okay, I encouraged
him with a smile. You can tell me I've seen
him too. Mason opened his mouth again, and his soft
(13:41):
voice squeaked out. He said, you killed him. He said
that you let him die long ago, and that you'd
been lying about it ever since. He said. Mason stopped.
He said, what that you'll let the same thing happen
to us too, No, I said, he lying. I would
(14:01):
never let you, your brother, or your mom get hurt
like that. He is he a ghost? I struggled to
find the words. How do you explain a torturous, demonic
force to a seven year old without scarring him for
life or scaring him to death. I don't know what
he is, I said, but if you see him again,
(14:22):
tell me immediately, and whatever you do, don't listen to him.
Mason nodded, swallowed hard, and then nervously asked another question.
Is he not the man who brought the snakes to
kill me? The tall man who wore all black? I asked,
recalling what Mason had told me the morning I left
for Bayville. He nodded. I don't know, I said, knowing
(14:45):
it was a lie, but still unsure of who the
man was. If it was the same man I thought
it was, he was real, unlike the apparition of Stephen.
Did he have a beard? I asked. Mason nodded, and
the other day you said that I knew this man.
How do you know that the boy told me? Do
(15:08):
you know who it is the man? I asked. Mason
shook his head, and then I stood up from my
crouched position. If you see either of them again, especially
that man, come to me immediately. Mason consented, and then
I got him settled back into bed. I kissed him
on the forehead and gave him a reassuring smile, or
(15:29):
at least one that I hoped would calm the stress
he was feeling. Yes, I'm sleep and we'll be morning
before you know it, and I want you to be
rested for school. Mason responded with a nod while he yawned.
Good night Dad. He said, good night, Mason, I love you.
Mason rolled over and hugged his bear. I flipped off
(15:50):
the light and left the room. When I awoke, the
bright light of day was flowing in through the bedroom curtains.
I rolled over to check the time, nine thirty am.
I quickly sat up, getting a rush of a notion
that I was late for something. But as I sat
on the edge of my bed for a moment, coming
out of my deep sleep, I realized that it was
(16:12):
Monday and I had nowhere to be aside from home
and waiting on a call from Pastor Hart. The bed
was empty aside from me, and now that I was awake,
I could hear Anika's voice muffled downstairs talking to someone
another woman, Jasmine perhaps. I brushed my teeth and tossed
on a sweatshirt and ball cap before heading downstairs. In
(16:34):
the kitchen, just as I expected, Anika and Jasmine were
at the table. The box of donuts from the Joe
and Go cafe was open on the counter, as was
a box of to go coffee and a stack of
styrofoam cups. The Joe and Go opened again, I asked,
Jasmine smiled, yup, they reopened this morning. It was a
relief to hear that Karl Martin opened to the cafe again.
(16:57):
In a weird way, it was encouraging, an indication that
some things were going back to normal. Life continues on,
even in the face of tragedy, or multiple tragedies. Annika
stood up from the table and gave me a kiss
and hug good morning. She said, I'd kiss you good
morning too, but I'm afraid it wouldn't really go over
well with your wife. Jasmine quipped as she tossed her
(17:19):
shining brown hair over her shoulder, generating a laugh from
both Annika and I. You know I have a thing
for cops, she concluded with a flirty, yet joking link.
At the mention of cops, the laughter began to fade
and a heaviness filled its space. I'm sorry about Louis,
Jasmine said, woefully. I acknowledged her words with an appreciative
(17:42):
smile and grabbed a cruller from the doughnut box. Any
word on funeral arrangements yet, she asked, looking to both
Annaika and I for an answer. I haven't heard, I said,
I'm sure tide's end is starting to get busy. Annika
could tell I was feeling uncomfortable, so she changed the subject.
I hadn't been able to deal properly yet with Lewis's passing,
(18:04):
and it was something that hung over me like a
dark cloud, especially given the sinister grounds behind it that
weren't known by Marshpoard as a whole. Jasmine and I
were going to head out and do some Christmas shopping,
if that's okay, Annika said. Time's ticking away, and I
have a list of things for Logan and Mason I'd
like to add to the clutter of presents under the
tree this year, sure, I said, pouring a cup of coffee.
(18:27):
You don't mind dealing with everything here by yourself, Annika wondered,
and obvious to me hint in her voice that she
might not have wanted to be around if Pastor Hart's
priest decided to make an appearance. Not at all, I said,
I'll be all right. Annika thanked me in silence with
a loving, sensitive smile. I could tell by the cryptic
nature in which we were communicating that she had not
(18:49):
told Jasmine anything about the calendar, it's connection to me,
and what had been transpiring around town. Jasmine was a
good person, a friendly soul, and very protective of logan
An Mason. Over the years, the boys had developed quite
the attachment to her as well, even calling her Aunt
Jasmine on occasion, despite her not even being related to
(19:10):
the family. If she thought, for any reason the boys
were in danger, I wouldn't doubt for one second that
she would act on it in some way or another.
It was nearly noon when Pastor Hart's name crawled across
the face of my phone, accompanied with a vibration that
made it skip across the table. Annika and Jasmine had left,
(19:31):
the kids were at school, and I was alone in
the house, stress, eating the rest of the doughnuts and
draining the to go box of coffee. Hello, I answered
the phone, my voice cracking with anxiety. Pastor Hart's voice
didn't crack, but it was dry and direct. Good afternoon, Matthew.
I spoke with Father Olson early this morning. He's based
in Port Noa, maybe about thirty minutes up the coast.
(19:53):
He said he'd be happy he'd come by today and
assess your situation. I exhaled in relief. Thank you, Russell,
I said, you have no idea how much I appreciate this.
Master Hart was silent for a moment, and then continued,
he'll be there early this afternoon. I took a deep breath.
Did he say based on what you told him? If
(20:15):
he thinks I have, he won't know until he's there,
Pastor Hart interrupted, Most people who claim to have a
demonic prisence don't. I was taken back by what he
had just said. Yeah, but you said you even saw
I don't know what I saw him, Matthew, I can't
explain it. I'm not educated enough to understand it. Father
Olsen will be there soon. If there truly is a
(20:38):
problem and you're home, he'll be able to help. I
couldn't believe Pastor Hart was trying to play it off
as nothing blood spewed all over him, funneling straight out
of the advent calendar, unless he thought it was rigged
or a sick prank of some kind. I couldn't imagine
why the change in tone, not to mention all the
(20:58):
other things I told him, Did he not believe me? Okay,
I said, I appreciate your calling. Before I could even finish,
he ended the call, and I was left there in
my kitchen, surrounded by silence and a lingering sense of abandonment.
I sincerely hoped Pastor Hart's actions were based in fear
(21:18):
of the unknown and not in a belief that he
was being fooled denial. That had to be it, because
just yesterday he said that, without a doubt, I had
a demon. A texted Anaka to explain what was happening
and told her that if she wanted to stay out
longer to avoid having to be home during father Olsen's
(21:40):
examination of our house, she could. She decided they would
go back to Jasmine's house after shopping for a little while,
and I would let her know when the assessment was over.
Based on what I relayed to her, she also believed
past her heart to be in a state of denial
or refusal to accept what was real. But we knew
what we were dealing with. Pastor Hart didn't want to
(22:01):
accept it or give it the time of day. That
was his decision. As unfortunate as that was, it was
nearly two pm when there was a knock at the
front door. With it being later than I expected, I
hoped that whatever the priest had to do would be
over within an hour before the school bus dropped off
Logan and Mason. I opened the door in a welcoming manner,
(22:24):
with light flurries falling around him. A man stood on
the porch. His clerical shirt and collar were clearly visible
underneath the black pea coat he was wearing. In one hand.
He held a dark bag at his side. He was
a middle aged man, still with a thick, feathery head
of black hair and dark scruff around his chin and neck.
I extended my hand, Father Elsen, I presume, he smiled
(22:48):
and shook my hand back. Yes, and you must be
a Matthew Kleine Russell has told me a lot about you. Great,
I thought, based on how Pastor Hart had started acting,
and I wasn't sure if that was a good thing
or a bad thing. Come in, please, I said, stepping
aside and allowing Father Olson in. We stood in the
foyer for a moment. As he removed his coat, I
(23:10):
took it from him and hung it on the rack.
Then he looked at me. Russell told me everything has
been happening, we said, He told me about the blood
that covered him. Sounds like an act of aggression or
a statement against God. So you believe me, I asked.
I'm known Russell for many years. I have no reason
to doubt his word. Father Olsen looked around. Where is
(23:33):
the Advent calendar in the living room by the fireplace,
I said, gesturing in that direction. Father Olsen opened his
bag and extracted a small clear bottle with a golden
cross insignia. He held it up to me holy water.
He said, it'll cause your demon great distress and hopefully
drive it away. So you also think that there could
(23:54):
be a demon here? Like I said, mister Klein, I
have no reason to doubt what my friend has told me.
Father Olsen walked through the archway into the living room,
splashing holy water as he did so. He saw the
Advent calendar sitting on the table to the right of
the fireplace. To the left, he noticed our Nativity scene
scattered in pieces on the floor. He smirked. I ticket,
(24:17):
that's not where you normally keep that, he said. Now,
I said, confused. It was on that table all set up.
Father Olsen splashed holy water in the direction of the
Nativity scene, and then more toward the calendar. As he
approached it. He stood a couple feet away and studied
the object. I've seen mirrors, books, dolls, paintings all act
(24:40):
as vessels for a demon. This is the first time
I've seen an advent calendar. Father Olsen said it was
built from the burned remains of a spirit board. I
told him. Father Olsen turned and locked eyes with me.
Spirit boards should never be burned, he said ominously. It
allows for the spirit that are connected to it to
(25:01):
rome free and even attached themselves to other people. I
immediately thought of the fire and how Wilbur Ward heroically
raced toward it. If the evil spirit had been freed
by the flames at that point, that would have explained
how it was able to attach itself to him. It
was an accident, I explained, the fire that burned it.
(25:23):
Father Olsen pivoted his entire body toward me. Russell said,
you were trying to contact your uncle. I nodded, yeah.
We were just kids. We didn't really know what we
were doing. Our uncle was dead. And we wanted to
talk to him again. We didn't know at the time
that he'd done some horrible things to people. Did you
use the board properly? I thought back. We had the
(25:48):
lights dim and the candles lit. Both our hands were
on the planchet. How did the planchet move? After we
asked our uncle if he was there, if he could
hear us, the plan chet shot to the upper corner
of the board, over the top of the word Yes.
Before that, Stephen was just swirling it around the board.
(26:09):
Father Olsen squinted, swirling it around like an infinity sign
figure eight. I nodded, and he turned his concern to
look back toward the calendar. That specific motion on a
spirit board is a sign that it shelters on the
level in spirit. Something was itching to get out. Your
brother wasn't the one making that motion. He turned back
(26:33):
to me. Who gave you the board? My grandmother? Did
she know what it was capable of? I shrugged. I
don't think so. She loved us. If she knew, I
don't think she would have ever subjected us to it.
She died a week later of a sudden heart attack,
so I never got to ask her about it. Father
(26:53):
Olsen leaned forward, inching closer to the calendar. Russell said
that every door you open reveals something dark and dangerous,
which one shot the blood at him. I pointed to
door number ten. Father Olsen examined it, using his fingers
to bat around the open door. He peered inside, seeing
(27:14):
the yes, the twenty three, and the L and M.
He then turned his attention to the engraved face centered
on the calendar. As he inspected it, I felt a
sudden twinge in my calf, like someone was squeezing the
wound and digging their nails deep into it. I cringed
as my body went cold flush and could smell something awful.
(27:34):
Rotting eggs make him leave. The angry, maimed voice of
Stephen whispered in my ear. Father Olsen abruptly turned to me,
and I assumed he'd heard the whisper also, but he
sniffed the air instead. Do you smell that? He asked quietly.
I nodded, still holding back from expressing how much pain
(27:55):
my calf was in. He lifted his bottle of holy
water and splashed it on either side to me. Futrid
smells can be indications of a demonic presence, he said.
I could see him beginning to grow restless and uneasy.
Have you had nightmares? Yes? I swallowed hard last night
about what the fire from my childhood, my dead brother,
(28:18):
my friends and family being dragged through my own personal hell.
A beast what kind of beast? I couldn't really tell,
there was so much happening. It had red hot eyes,
a large, fiery mane that was bunched up around its
head like a lion. Father Olsen asked. I nodded slowly,
(28:40):
remembering the dream. But I'm sure if it's what I
saw in real life. Were there snakes? He asked, with
a sense of confidence. I thought back to the dream.
As the beast appeared in the smoke and flames, I
did hear what I could only describe as a chorus
of hissing. I nodded again, Yes, a lot of them.
(29:01):
There were real snakes in my house too. They came
out of the calendar, and one really large one tried
to kill my son. Father Olsen stormed right by me
back into the foyer and picked up his bag. I
followed him. Where are you going, I asked. He rifled
through his bag looking for something specific, get rid of him.
Stephen's ghastly voice whispered again in my ear, more aggressively.
(29:24):
He was losing his patience with me. Father Olsen pulled
a wooden cross out from his bag. At the sight
of it, I felt afraid. An overwhelming acceptance of how
real this all was flushed over me and made my
stomach twinge. He held it up to me and I
heard a disembodied scream behind me. It set my nerves
on edge and caused every hair on the back of
my neck to stand at attention. Did did you hear that?
(29:47):
I stammered fearfully. The way Father Olsen looked at me
indicated that he had not heard anything. He was just
showing me the tool in his hand. This is a crucifix,
he said, Do you know what these do? I turned
around to see if I could locate the origin of
the scream that chilled my entire body, Matthew. Father Olsen
demanded my attention back. This is a very powerful sacramental
(30:10):
article with prayers and blessings eternally bonded to it. I'm
going to hang it by the fireplace near the calendar.
You are not to touch it, do you understand? I nodded,
I'm going to bless the rest of this house with
holy water and say a few prayers. He continued, in
a dead serious tone. You wade out front and we'll
(30:31):
talk more out there. Get rid of him now. Stephen's
voice hissed like a serpent, angrier than I'd ever heard it, Matthew,
father Olsen said, grabbing my attention away from my dead
brother's threatening voice. Go outside now. I did as he said.
I grabbed my coat from the rack and waited on
the porch. As I shivered outside alone, I heard heavy
(30:53):
wheezing breaths beside me, expelling the putrid odor of rotting eggs.
I turned, expecting to see a creature breathing on me
at close range, but there was nothing. Just then mcaf
rrupted in pain again. It felt like hundreds of beastings
all at once. I stiffened up, as if my entire
body had been injected with a paralyzing poison. I heard
(31:14):
Stephen's voice in one ear and then the other, swapping
back and forth, trying to throw off my equilibrium. I
commanded you to get rid of him. His voice wheezed.
You disobeyed me. You didn't play by the rules. I
shivered in a coold fear, unsure of if I should
respond or not. Once again, you must suffer the consequences,
(31:37):
Stephen taunted, his grim voice, then drifting away with a
brisk wind. The front door opened and Father Olsen walked
out onto the porch. He had his coat on and
carried his bag at his side. He looked a little
flush and a little nervous. He closed the door behind
him and stood with me. I did what I could
for now, at least, he said. The cross is with
(31:58):
the calendar. Don't separate the two. Can't I get rid
of the calendar somehow? I asked him. I won't that
stop it. You've tried it before, right by throwing it
into the ocean. I nodded, realizing that if I tried
it again, it would just show back up. I fear
you're dealing with a specific demon, one called Zervon. I squinted. Zervon,
(32:22):
I've never heard of it. Father Olsen nodded, dipped his hat,
and continued, it sends from Persian Mithraism. In Mithraism, there
were midwinter festivals dedicated solely to the worship of Servon,
and the celebrations would always culminate on December twenty fourth.
December twenty fourth, I thought funny how the Advent calendar
(32:45):
also ended on the twenty fourth. Why do you think
he's the demon? I asked? The engraving on the calendar,
the one of the bearded man in his human form,
Zervon was said to be a bearded figure who held
an object that symbolized the the cynical, ironic nature of time.
In your case, the calendar itself would be that object,
(33:06):
and the dimension of time would be somehow connected to
your past. How many years ago did all of this
start for you? Thirty years ago? I said, I was ten?
Does ten mean anything to you? Now? I froze my son?
A logan is ten and Mason's seven, the same age
(33:28):
Stephen was when he died. Father Olsen noticed my discomfort.
Reserve On, or any demon for that matter, time is irrelevant.
They wait without angst and reveal themselves when it best
fits their needs their predators. They derive pleasure from trickery, torment,
and psychological deception, not to mention bounts of unprecedented violence.
(33:53):
I swallowed heart, realizing that this Demonservon has been lingering
and waiting for thirty years to un leash all of this,
and for what, just because it wanted to something else,
Father Olsen said made me curious as well. You said
in his human form, he was a bearded man, what
(34:13):
is his non human form? Servon was a monstrous abomination.
He had the head of a lion, always twisted in
an angry snarl, and his limbs were wrapped in coils
of writhing, striking serpents, lions, snakes, A mysterious bearded man,
the cynical time factor. It all came back to Servon.
(34:36):
I had no reason to doubt Father Olsen's assessment. What
do I do? I asked, quaking before the man who
came to help me, Father Olsen, just looked at me.
Eventually a slight smile broke on his face. Pray. Once
Father Olsen left, I went back into my house. It
felt noticeably colder to me, and I felt like a
(34:58):
stranger in it, like I in someone else's domain. There
been something else living with us for the past two weeks,
something that had burrowed into our lives. Controlled every emotion,
played with every fear, all because it wanted to. It
was clearly in charge and felt more like the dominant
presence now more than I ever did in my own
(35:20):
home when it birthed from the spirit board thirty years ago.
It wasn't ready to part with me. It just waited,
And now it was here. Zervon was here wreaking havoc
and causing mayhem during his midwinter time of worship. But
that worship, that celebration he relished, was coming to end soon.
(35:43):
On the twenty fourth of December, to be exact, I
walked into the living room and stood before the Advent calendar.
My eyes briefly caught the crucifix hanging on the wall
behind it. But then I leered at the little door
with number twenty four stenciled on it. I wondered how
his celebration would end. My eyes then wandered up to
(36:06):
today's door and I pinched the little handle. I pulled
on it and opened the door. Inside. I felt a
bunch of small, jagged, sharp fragments. As I moved my
fingers over them, they preacked me and scraped against the wood.
I cupped my other hand and placed it against the calendar,
brushing out the tiny fragments into it where they had
(36:28):
pricked my fingers. They now had drops of blood on them.
It was glass, tiny shards of shattered glass. 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
(36:48):
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 are posted. I'm Daryn Marler.
Thanks for celebrating Advent with me in the Weird Darkness
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