December 20, 2025 • 37 mins
Thirty years ago, Matthew Klein escaped a fire that killed his family. He's been running ever since. Now, with five doors left on a cursed advent calendar and a demon named Zurvan orchestrating chaos across Marshport, the flames have finally caught up. His friends are dead. His wife believes him a liar. His son has been poisoned by demonic whispers. And as Christmas Eve draws near—the culmination of Zurvan's ancient celebration—Matt realizes the demon needs a new host. Someone close. Someone vulnerable.
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 (00:04):
Five doors remain. Matthew Klein stands alone in the wreckage
of everything he tried to protect. His wife believes him unfaithful.
His son Logan has been poisoned by the demon's lies,
turned against his own father. His friends lie dead. Bridget
impaled by a falling star, Lewis killed in a crash
(00:25):
meant for him, Simon shot down in his own possessed fury.
The phantom smell of burning hangs over all Marshport, now
a constant reminder of the fire that took his family
thirty years ago and the cowardice that let him survive it.
The demon has a name, Zervon, a lion headed god
wrapped in serpents, worshiped through chaos and blood during the
(00:49):
darkest days of winter. For three decades, he waited in
the burned remains of a spirit board, biting his time
until Wilbur Ward unknowingly carved that cursed wood into something new,
something that would find its way back to the boy
who escaped. December twenty fourth approaches the culmination of Zervon's
(01:11):
midwinter celebration. Father Olsen's warning echoes in Matt's mind when
a possessed vessel dies, the demon finds someone close, someone vulnerable.
Simon is dead, Wilbur is dead. Zervon will need a
new host. The Advent Calendar sits in his home, waiting.
(01:34):
It has proven it cannot be destroyed, cannot be discarded,
cannot be ignored. Every act of defiance has been met
with death. Rennwend drowned at Gull's Rest, a python coiled
around Mason's small body, Wilbur's corpse manifesting in a child's closet.
The rules are absolute, one day at a time, open
(01:57):
each door except what but what waits behind doors? Twenty
through twenty four, the calendar has revealed Matt's deepest shame
connected him to a serial killer uncle, predicted murders before
they happened. Each trinket has been a promise of suffering
to come. Matt Klein was a boy who ran from
(02:19):
a fire and never stopped running. Now, thirty years later,
the flames have finally caught up. The shadowy figure of
his brother Stephen still watches from the darkness, smelling of
campfire and ash, enforcing rules. Matt never agreed to play
by five doors five days until Zervon's celebration reaches its peak,
(02:45):
and the demon is just getting started. Welcome Weirdos. I'm
(03:25):
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
(03:45):
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 Weirddarkness dot com slash Advent of Evil.
The calendar is waiting. Let's see what awaits us behind
today's door. Saturday, December twentieth, The night was long. I
(04:18):
refused to sleep, intent on not allowing Zervan the chance
to creep into my dreams again. He'd proven that even
in my dreams he could ruin my life. From the
time I drove myself home from the Winter Wonderland Festival
until the sun rose, I did nothing but try to
call and text Anika. I wanted to explain myself for
(04:42):
her to understand the truth and why I did what
I did. From checking her location on my phone, I
was able to see that she was safe at the
Sea Glass Motel, which was only a block away from
the town center. I tried to take comfort in the
fact that she and the boys were safe, but that
still didn't help the anguished urge I had to mend
(05:04):
the misconception between us. As I waited for a fresh
pot of coffee to brew, I anxiously paced around the house,
inevitably ending up in the living room along with the
sinister catalyst for every single thing that's gone wrong throughout
the month. The way it's sat on the table by
the fireplace, watching over the room, watching over us, and
(05:25):
made me sick. I felt like we were captives in
our own home, a devilish grasp on us. Refusing to
ease up, I approached the calendar, scrutinizing it with repulse.
The nineteen doors that were already opened had inflicted cruel
horrors across Marshport. The bottom row was made up of
the five remaining unopened doors, each of them certain to
(05:49):
contain another detestable, gruesome thing. Each of them was inevitable,
but that didn't stop me from thinking about what it
would feel like to ignore them all play by the rules.
Stephen's impaired, disembodied voice spoke with malice behind me. I
turned around and was struck by an acrid, smoky odor.
(06:10):
His small, scorched incarnation stood under the archway between the rooms.
I locked eyes on him, still alarmed by his burned,
ember ridden appearance, even after seeing him so many times already.
It disturbed me immensely. And what if I don't, I replied,
feeling desensitized to his threats, then the consequences will be dire,
(06:33):
I assertively finished his sentence. His body pulsed frantically with
glowing embers. He was not happy with themolish stance I'd
taken against him. I know, I said gruffly. I know
the threats. Maybe next time your defiant actions will lead
to the snakes actually killing your little boy. Stephen wheezed.
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I flashed back to the snake wrapped around Mason as
he struggled in his bed in the attack. I know
you're not real, I said, You're a phantom, a manifestation
of the guilt that I have carried for such a
long time. His scorched embodiment began to flake away in small,
ashy detonations. I watched his fingers pop into black ash
(07:17):
and vanish into the air. Parts of his shoulder were
next in unison with the core of his midsection. What's happening,
I asked, with a sudden mounting of worry. Two eyes
opened on his face, burning like white hot bulbs. A
mouth split open and spewed ash and quivering cinder. You
have grown callous of me, he spoke in a harsh,
(07:40):
guttural voice. I hadn't heard him speak in before. Say
goodbye to your little brother again. Wait, I panic as
its entire body imploded into smoky dust and diffused throughout
the living room. Wait no, I screamed. Stephen felt an
overwhelming sense of madness and anger surge within me. What
(08:03):
was it? Was he gone? I didn't want to believe
I'd lost Stephen again. I rushed to the archway and
waved my hand through the lingering black dust, hoping there
was something left of him, real or not. It was
the only chance I had to communicate with my little brother.
I collapsed to my knees and cried. My emotions had
(08:27):
hit a fever pitch. I was forlorn, enraged, confused, and scared.
I mourned the loss of friends, feared for my family's lives,
and for a split self destructive second, I contemplated if
I even had what it took to endure the last
five days of Servan's narcissistic glorification, his plague, his curse.
(08:51):
Whatever it was he'd earmarked me and my family for,
had worn me down and was urging a surrender. Was
that what he wanted? Because I didn't die thirty years
ago with my family, was death my punishment for surviving? No.
I was a fighter, a survivor. I would not surrender
(09:14):
to intimidation, especially when the lives of Anika, Logan, and
Mason were on the line. I wiped the tears and
snot from my face and stood up, facing the calendar
like a hero faces off against his adversary during the
climax of a story. I marched toward it, asserting my gallantry,
and opened door number twenty. I reached in and pulled
(09:34):
out a half circle of flames. I felt a sense
of deja vous as I examined the item identical to
the one I'd pulled out on Wednesday. I flipped it
over looked at all the edges, it was the same.
Why another one, I thought, I glanced at the first one,
still propped up on the mantle of the fireplace. I
(09:57):
was dumbfounded, unable to grasp the meaning of having two
of them? Did the calendar missfire? Did Servon mess up somehow? Regardless?
It infuriated me. I faced the calendar once more, an
expulsion of rage bubbling up from my core. I threw
the half wooden circle of fire across the room and
then grabbed the calendar with both hands, my injured arm.
(10:20):
Feeling the pain of exertion, I ignored it, even fighting
off the growing discomfort on my calf. My body was crippling,
but I didn't let it stop me from throwing the
calendar to the ground. With every bit of streke. I
had it smacked to the floor, a couple of the
open doors, breaking away from their hinges and skittering across
the room. I kicked it, sending a long crack down
(10:41):
the back of the hell born gift. A burst of
pain swelled in my calf, bringing me to my knees.
I gripped my teeth in response to the ache, but
used my brond to stand right back up. As I
repeatedly kicked the calendar, grunting and swearing at it, the
house began to shake. I stopped my onslaught, and took
a step back. Things rattled on shelves. The Christmas tree
(11:04):
shivered and sent glass ornaments crashing to the floor. The
wooden board that replaced our window shook like invisible people
were pounding on it from either side. The gas fireplace
ignited on its own, and then the door to the
basement was thrown open by an unseen force. The stench
of death and decay rolled out from the basement had
assaulted my senses. I gagged and cautiously took a few
(11:26):
steps back, returning my attention to the beaten calendar on
the floor. It too was shaking uncontrollably, like something inside
of it wanted to come out. And then, without warning,
the spectral display of chaos halted on a dime, and
the basement door slammed shut, just as my doorbell rang.
I stood there for a moment longer, in complete shock
(11:47):
from what I had just witnessed. I had angered it,
and it felt good between step and vanishing, and then
the calender's violent response to my attack. I realized that
I retained some control still, and that was enough to
motivate me to dauntlessly push through whatever Zervan had left
(12:08):
up his sleeve. I would not go down without a fight.
The doorbell rang again, followed by a couple of quick,
hard knocks. I rushed to the door and unlocked it,
hoping to see Anika and the boys. But it wasn't
then Detective Davenport stood on the porch, the shoulders of
his coat collecting the large snowflakes that were falling. Could
(12:29):
I come in, he asked, with a sense of urgency.
I could tell by the tone of his voice that
something was wrong. I stepped aside and let him in.
He went straight for the living room side, glancing at
the damaged calendar and shattered ornaments on the floor. He
went straight for the wooden board that had temporarily replaced
our broken window and ran his fingers over it. What's
(12:49):
going on, I asked. Davenport turned around and faced me.
I asked, red to the offices and special teams that
were here the other day after the incident. Now it
one single person remembered bringing in or calling that contractor
that boarded up this window. He just showed up and
no one thought anything of it. It's like he was
steaking out the area or stalking around. I already knew
(13:13):
where this was going. I had already figured out who
the contractor really was. And even more unnerving than his
identity was the fact that his body was still stuffed
in the crawl space of my basement. I was too
wrapped up in the investigation, too busy to connect the
knots of his appearance to a hooded mystery man, Davenport admitted,
I think he is one of the same. If he
(13:34):
was the last one here, he might have left something aklo.
Perhaps can I take another look at your house? I
shook my head. This isn't really the best time, I said.
Davenport looked around, now acknowledging the vandalism in the living
room that he didn't know was ghostly in nature. Ornaments
were broken beneath the tree, pictures on the wall now
(13:56):
hung crookedly. The calendar lay upside down on the floor,
with a couple of its small square doors scattered around
and a long, jagged crack down its backside. The detective
looked back at me, where's Anika? He dubiously inquired. I
rolled my eyes. She's at the Sea Glass Motel. Davenport
(14:16):
tilted his head and winked trouble in paired as, Yes,
something like that, and you boys there with her? What
is this, I defensively questioned him, Another one of your
intimidation tactics, another accusatory canvassing. Davenport smirked out of the
corner of his mouth. He was getting under my skin,
(14:37):
and he knew that he'd spent an entire career savoring
that very feeling. The only difference was I wasn't one
of his criminals. I was a victim. He just didn't
know that yet. I assume this is the calender you
blame Joe infidelity on, he equipped, pointing down to the
damaged recipient of my attack. I wasn't sure how to
(14:58):
respond to Davenport's unexpect question. He could see the surprise
on my face, which only spawned another arrogant simper in
the corner of his mouth. Lieutenant Seas told me about
to fight. You guys, had it went to Wonderland last night?
Davenport explained. He mentioned something about an affair, and you
blamed an advent calendar for exposing it. Davenport chuckled. I
(15:18):
gotta be honest, man, I'd never heard an excuse quite
like that before. Stop it, I growled, wiping the arrogance
off his face with my stern approach. He stood guarded,
now ready for confrontation. Davenport boldly walked toward me, stopping
only a foot or two away. I held my ground,
as did he. I see a lot of things this month,
(15:40):
he said, with a strong cognizance. Things I'd never seen.
Things I could explain. You'ven put my finger on. I've
never seen this many deaths in Marshport ever, and for
them all to revolve around you, where I find that
remarkably suspicious, remarkably unnatural. I didn't bat an I or
(16:00):
let my focus saunter. I continued to combat his resolve
with mine. I've been doing this job a long time, Matt,
much longer than you've been with the force. I trust
my gut, and I know a truly guilty party when
I see one, he said. I then noticed something change
in his face. His strong facade began to wither against
(16:22):
all my intuitions, full of life of me, I just
don't see you anymore as a guilty party. I see
you as troubled, maybe in some kind of a predicament,
someone who's trapped and plagued by something that I haven't
yet been able to identify. Like I said, something unnatural.
Felt a weight lift from my shoulders, my chest eased up,
(16:45):
and a tinkle of relief rippled from my head down
to my toes. However, I remained vigilant. Davenport had tried
to trick me before turning an understanding conversation into an
interrogation in my very own kitchen. I had to operate
with caution. And what do you want me to say?
I asked, I want you to tell me the truth.
(17:05):
What's been going on? Well? What could I do to
help you so no one else gets hurt or killed? Clearly,
you are somehow deeply connected everything's been going on, But
I don't think you're involved with it. I think you
are somewhere burdened by it, and something's not right here.
This was my chance. I let my guard down, accepting
(17:26):
what Davenport was saying as true benevolence. I looked around
at the shattered ornaments, crooked frames, recalling the attack on
Anika and myself. The gunfire, the smoky smells, the sten
ship decay. I was tired of carrying it all. My
lips quivered and tears began to sting my eyes. I
(17:46):
swallowed my mouth dry and desperate to unveil the truth.
I needed help. Without thinking any further, the floodgates collapsed
and I explained everything to him. I told him about
my uncle, the spirit board, the fire and deaths. I
told him how the advent calendar showed up on December
first and has caused some sort of physical or mental
(18:07):
havoc every single day since. I told him that I
discovered the hooded man's identity, that he had died upstairs
and his body was crammed in my crawl space. Once
it was all out, I felt a much needed tranquility
radiate through me. Regardless of what Davenport's reaction would be,
the burden was no longer my own. Davenport put his
(18:29):
hand to his forehead. He looked clammy and pale. He
began to pace around the room, occasionally glancing down at
the calendar that would explain the priest. He said to himself,
trying to process everything I told him. I've always been
a skeptic regarding this kind of thing, he said, I
just choked it up to being in some sort of
unburifiable pseudoscience. If I didn't experience what I did when
(18:53):
I was ten, I would have too, I told him.
But seeing his believing, and I've seen too much to
not believe, demons and their unholy influence are as real
as the air we breathe. I spent so many years
trying to forget it, trying to bury it in the
most inaccessible parts of my mind. But now I can't
(19:14):
ignore it anymore. It's come back to haunt me. Davenport
put his hands on his hips and exhaled a loud
and long sigh. Did I see the body? He asked
a ten stup, but ultimately determined that it didn't matter
anymore whether he saw it or not. I had already
admitted it was there. My fate was in his hands.
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I led Davenport to the basement. I assumed, with how
cold it was, it would keep the smell of decomposition
to bay for a while, But I was wrong. It
was overwhelmingly nauseating. We both covered our mouths and noses
as we descended the creaking wooden steps on the other
side of the cellar. I held my breath as I
removed the shoddily built wooden wall from the crawl space entrance.
(19:59):
Dust and fly emerged from the shadowy space behind it.
Davenport ignited a flashlight and aimed it inside. Wilber Ward's
body lay there, covered in a fresh layer of writhing maggots.
His skin was beginning to rot, his eyes were sunken
back further into his skull, and his lips had receded,
exposing the leathery gums and protruding teeth. Davenport protected his
(20:23):
senses again as he tried his best to examine the
body from a reasonable distance. Your sure this is wilbur Ward,
he asked, I'm sure. Davenport backed away and motioned for
me to replace the wooden wall in front of the
crawl space. Are you gotta report this, I asked. Davenport
(20:43):
pondered his options. If we call this in, he'll be
the prime suspect in his death. Well, an autopsy confirmed
the death was natural, though sure, but there'll be questions
about what he was doing in your house. To begin with,
why you hid the body and ultimately lea is connection
to your past? Who will come out. Then, what do
(21:04):
we do, I anxiously asked, not sure where to go
from here. I need time to think about this, to
comprehend everything and make sure my gut isn't deceiving me.
For the first time, he said, don't tell anyone else
about the body. Keep it quiet for now. I waved
more of the stanch away. How long does it have
to stay here? How long were you planning on not
(21:26):
telling anyone? He jabbed back. Before I had a chance
to respond to his sarcastic shot, his phone rang. This
is Detective Warn Davenport, he answered, as a muffled voice
spoke to him on the other line. His eyes shot
toward me. At that same moment, my phone rang, pulling
it out of my pocket, I saw it was Anaka calling.
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I answered it and turned away from the detective. Anika,
I said breathlessly, Matt. Her voice was filled with emotion.
She'd been crying again. Oh what's wrong? There was an accident.
It's hurt. I felt my face go cold. Who Annaka?
Cleared her throat an employee of the motel. I'm at
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the Sea Glass. I'll be right there, I said, ending
the call. I turned to Davenport and he was looking
right at me. It was an incident at the Sea
Glass Motel, he said, But I'm assuming you know that already.
I nodded, I'll drive, he said. I sat with Anika
in the lobby at the Sea Glass Motel. It wasn't
(22:30):
a large space, mostly designed for a quick chicken awaiting
area and shelves with snacks for sale. Logan and Mason
sat on the floor beside us while Detective Davenport spoke
with the motel clerk on the other side of the counter.
Annaka hadn't said much since we arrived due to her
emotional state, so most of the information I was able
to gather was strictly from eavesdropping on Davenport's conversation with
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the clerk. From what I gathered, it sounded like Annaka
had called Jasmine and their conversation escalated quickly into a
shouting match over the phone. There was a noise complaint
called into the front desk, and when the manager knocked
on the door, Logan answered it, then stabbed a pen
directly into his neck. Davenport walked over to us next.
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Annaka lifted her head and wiped tears from her face.
I breathed deeply and stood up to hear what he
had to say. He was at a loss for words
at first, looking back and forth between Anika and I,
and then finally down at Logan. Logan he said, could
I ask you a couple of questions? Is here to arrest?
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I quickly interfered. Davenport's eyes met mine, wide and unsure
the situation. I'm trying to make that determination, he said,
as professionally as possible. He attacked someone violently. Would you
like him to have legal representation first? I wouldn't blame you.
Is that man going to be okay? Annika asked, clutching
her chest. Davenport looked at her with simple and then
(24:00):
glanced outside, where a number of police cars were parked
and the ambulance that carried the manager began to drive
away with its sirens wailing. Hopefully, he said, Logan didn't
hit any major arteries, so Annaka sighed heavily in relief,
hanging her head back down. At the same time, Logan
stood up. He whispered something outside the door. Logan said
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he had our attention. What did he whisper? Davenport asked,
I wanted to stop Davenport from his question. I wanted
to protect Logan's rights, but with the onslaught of supernatural
violence that had swallowed the month of December, I desperately
wanted to know what it was that the motel manager
whispered that caused Logan to want to stab him. Logan
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lowered his head and muttered something inaudible. Davenport leaned closer.
Anika grabbed my arm. See that again, please, Davenport instructed him.
Logan slowly looked up at the detective and locked eyes
with him. He said he was going to kill it
woitted the room if he didn't get silence. Davenport stood
upright and stepped back. He turned to the clerk behind
(25:07):
the counter, as a motil man, actually have a threatened
customers before? The clerk shrugged, Not that I know of,
But stranger things have happened. Davenport looked at me. Indeed
they have. We spent the next couple of hours at
the police station. I felt very uncomfortable not being on
(25:29):
the working side of things. Davenport interviewed Logan with me
and a lawyer at his side. The interrogation didn't really
unveil anything new or earth shattering. Logan stuck to his
story about the manager whispering a threat through the door.
I felt like we really danger, he said, whimpering. My
parents were both detected at our house earlier in the week,
(25:49):
and I thought it was about to happen again. Only
my dad wasn't there to protect us. He wasn't there
to save us. Logan's words burrowed under my skin and
rattled me. I imagine Stephen uttering those same words thirty years ago.
He wasn't there to save us. I can understand how
you felt the need to protect your family, Davenport said,
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especially you being the oldest child. There's a certain reputation
or a clout that naturally comes with that. Davenport's words
weren't helping. Everything kept reminding me of that damn night.
I did want anyone else to die, Logan said, I
didn't meet it hurt that man. I hope he's okay.
Logan's words seemed genuine and like they were coming from
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the heart. He looked at me with tears in his eyes.
Can we go home, dad, he asked. I looked to
Davenport for that answer. He thought about his options for
a moment and then said, we'll release Logan. He must
remain at home while we continue this investigation. Any breakage
of that stipulation will result in him and you be interested.
(26:53):
Am I clear? Clear? I repeated. Within the next few
minutes and I were leaving the precinct. Once we were
in the car, and before I started the engine, I
asked him a question. Did he really whisper that? Logan
gawked at me, probably confused as to why I would
need to hear it again after just discussing it with
(27:15):
the police. He nodded silently. And you felt like you
were in danger? I said, you felt like your mom
and Mason were in danger. He nodded again. They're all
in danger, he said, you are too. His words alarmed
me because of everything that's been happening this month, I asked,
(27:35):
trying to clarify. Logan was silent as he slowly shook
his head. He just lowered at me, his eyes seemingly stuck,
his body frozen in a state of inactiveness. I felt
uncomfortable and adjusted in my seat. Why are we in danger?
I asked. That's when Logan smiled, but it wasn't as cute, innocent,
(27:57):
normal smile. There was something else behind it, something foreign,
something corrupt? Why, I repeated louder, but he didn't answer.
He just faced forward, retaining his wide eyed stare and
corrupt grin. I swallowed hard, started the engine, and drove home,
(28:19):
experiencing the most uncomfortable and foreboding ride of my life.
As soon as we pulled in, I saw another car
with New York plates parked in the driveway. It was
my foster parents. With everything that had been going on,
I had completely forgotten they were coming. Grandma and Grandpa
are here, I blithely said to Logan. I looked over
(28:43):
at him, and the unnatural look on his face that
began our car ride was gone. It had been replaced
by want of happiness and excitement. Do you think they
brought gifts? They got me what I asked for, he exclaimed,
throwing the door open and racing out of the car.
I watched him trudge through the snow and into the
house without regard. I was left concerned. Wilbur, Davenport and
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Jasmine were officially off my suspect list of vessels, apt
enough for Zervan, and as sick as it made me feel,
Do we even think, Logan it skyrocketed up that list?
I had no other way of explaining how he was acting.
Between the way he obtained and showed the picture of
Jasmine to create disorder to the stabbing of the motel
(29:25):
manager in a bone chilling way in which he spoke
in the car, I had no other explanation. For the
sake of my own sanity and my family. I prayed
I was wrong. I prayed I was overthinking it. But
after all, demons can deceive. I walked into the house
(29:45):
and it finally felt like a complete home again, save
for the mending that still needed to take place between
Anika and I. Everyone was in the kitchen. Anako was
shuffling through Chinese takeout menus when Logan had burst in
and thrown huge hugs around his grandparents. Once he let
them go, they came over to me with smiles and
warm hugs. Merry Christmas, my mom said, kissing me on
(30:09):
the cheek. Merry Christmas, Matthew, my dad said, grabbing my
hand and pulling me in for a hug. I didn't
see them nearly as much as I used to, or
nearly as much as I should have. They were getting older,
and that made me sad. When my birth parents and
grandmother died. They stepped in mister and missus Bob and
Sandy Kline. Without them, my future would not have been possible.
(30:33):
I owed them everything. I'm glad you guys were able
to come. I said, are you staying through Christmas? No?
My dad said, just through Monday. We'll be leaving Tuesday mornings,
so we're home for Christmas. Eve. Well, I'm really happy
that you're here, I said, feeling a wide variety of emotions.
You guys are a sight for sore eyes. My mom smiled,
(30:55):
sensing the stress hiding behind my words, and then solicitously
surveyed my bandaged arm man. Can I say you're super quick?
In the living room? Annaka called out from across the kitchen.
I obliged and followed her lead. My parents and the
boys remained in the kitchen, talking and laughing. As soon
as I walked into the living room, I saw the
broken ornaments, the damaged advent calendar, and the crooked frames
(31:17):
on the wall. Annaka planted herself in the center of
the room and crossed her arms. So what happened at
the police station? She asked. Davenport allowed him to come
home until they were able to get a little further
into the investigation. He can't leave the house though. Is
he going to get arrested? I shrugged. I don't know,
(31:38):
but I stopped talking and looked over my shoulder, making
sure the coast was clear. I lowered my voice. I
think we need to keep an eye on him. Why
he was acting really weird in the car, almost like
he wasn't himself. Annaka nodded. I assume he would feel
a little disconnected from reality, she said. He stabbed at
(31:59):
that guy with full force. Matt, it was terrifying. He
walked right over to the door, opened it and thrust
the pen into his neck. I squinted. He didn't listen
first like, he didn't put his ear to the door
and listened to what the manager was saying. Annika strained
her voice. It was all in one fluent motion. There
wouldn't have been any time for him to hear that man.
(32:22):
She looked away from me, trying to conceal her angst.
It was only then that she noticed the dismay and
disorder in the room. What happened here? I could have
told her it was all the demonic tremor that ruptured
throughout the house, but I was proud of the damage
I'd inflicted on the advent calendar. Before I had a
chance to answer her, Logan and Mason burst into the room,
(32:44):
hollering with excitement. They were each holding a side of
a rectangular wrapped present. Look, Grandma, Grandpa, I got a
son early Christmas gift, Mason exclaimed, jumping up and down.
Logan appeared just as excited, which made me feel a
little better. Maybe Anika was right. Maybe after stabbing someone
like that, he felt disconnected from himself. Maybe he was
feeling guilty, or hurt or scared. I felt horrible for
(33:08):
even considering the idea that Zervan had seized him. I
was a terrible person. Jill, you opened it, Logan asked,
looking directly at me. Of course, I told them, trying
to sideline the guilt I was feeling. Logan and Mason
sat on the ground and tore into the package. Anika
stood by my side but kept the distance. My parents
(33:30):
lingered behind the boys in the archway, holding hands. Oh
what is this, Mason asked, as the gift finally unfurled
from within the wrapping paper. As the paper hit the ground,
I felt as if time itself stopped. I felt cold,
and my heart rapidly picked up its pace. I felt
Anika grabbed my arm and squeeze it with fearful strength.
(33:51):
Logan stood up, holding the gift solely in his hands.
It was a spirit board. Everything around me started spinning.
I felt off balance. I took a step forward, but
stumbled back, bumping into Anika. Like I was in a
drunken haze. I heard Logan exclaim in my foggy state,
this is exactly what I asked for, a spirit board.
(34:12):
You asked for a spirit board, I questioned, feeling as
if my words were coming out in slow motion. Logan
locked eyes with me again. They were wide, just like
they had been in the car. His smile wasn't his own.
He nodded slowly and menacingly. This is exactly what I wanted,
just like when you were ten, he said, somehow, without
(34:33):
moving his mouth. His disembodied voice reminded me of how
I'd heard Stephen Logan's eerie stare lingered on me. His
discarnate voice continued shifting into a darker, deeper vocalization. Does
this all feel familiar? Matthew an early gift a spirit
board a ten year old boy and his seven year
(34:54):
old brother destined for the flames. No, I exhaled, stumbling
further back, knocking over the table where the advent calendar
was normally perched. Annaka tried to help me keep my balance.
She was talking to me, saying things, but I couldn't
hear them. Every sound, aside from the voice Logan was
spectrally conveying, was non existent. Everything comes full circle, his
(35:19):
demonic voice roared. Logan's static stare finally cracked, and his
eyes snapped in the direction of the mantle behind me.
I turned and saw the half wooden circle of flames.
I remembered the other identical half I'd pulled from the
calendar earlier in the day. It was on the floor
by my feet. I picked it up, one of them
in each of my hands. Everything comes full circle, his
(35:44):
voice rang in my head. I adjusted the two half
circles and fit them together, creating a full wooden circle
of flames. Upon their fastening, the object seemingly came to life,
completely igniting in my hands. For a fraction of a second,
I watched the flames roll and whirl around, nearly sending
me into a hypnotic trance. Before my mind fought back,
(36:06):
and I let it fall to the ground. The burning
ring of flames hit the floor, where it instantly combusted
into a quick flash of hell fire before dissolving into oblivion.
My hearing came back. Anaka was in mid shriek. My
parents were clamoring through the room to my aid, and
Mason stood under the archway with his hands shielding his face.
Are you okay, Dad, I heard Logan ask me. I
(36:30):
looked his way, but there wasn't even an inkling of
true concern on his face or in his voice. I
was convinced of it now. Zervon was here and he
had my son. 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
(36:54):
read the full novel for yourself in print, it's available
in paperback, hardback, and kindle versions Weird Darkness dot com
slash Advent of Evil. That's also where you can go
to hear each of the twenty four chapters as they're posted.
I'm Darren Marler. Thanks for celebrating Advent with me. In
the Weird Darkness
Five doors remain. Matthew Klein stands alone in the wreckage
of everything he tried to protect. His wife believes him unfaithful.
His son Logan has been poisoned by the demon's lies,
turned against his own father. His friends lie dead. Bridget
impaled by a falling star, Lewis killed in a crash
(00:25):
meant for him, Simon shot down in his own possessed fury.
The phantom smell of burning hangs over all Marshport, now
a constant reminder of the fire that took his family
thirty years ago and the cowardice that let him survive it.
The demon has a name, Zervon, a lion headed god
wrapped in serpents, worshiped through chaos and blood during the
(00:49):
darkest days of winter. For three decades, he waited in
the burned remains of a spirit board, biting his time
until Wilbur Ward unknowingly carved that cursed wood into something new,
something that would find its way back to the boy
who escaped. December twenty fourth approaches the culmination of Zervon's
(01:11):
midwinter celebration. Father Olsen's warning echoes in Matt's mind when
a possessed vessel dies, the demon finds someone close, someone vulnerable.
Simon is dead, Wilbur is dead. Zervon will need a
new host. The Advent Calendar sits in his home, waiting.
(01:34):
It has proven it cannot be destroyed, cannot be discarded,
cannot be ignored. Every act of defiance has been met
with death. Rennwend drowned at Gull's Rest, a python coiled
around Mason's small body, Wilbur's corpse manifesting in a child's closet.
The rules are absolute, one day at a time, open
(01:57):
each door except what but what waits behind doors? Twenty
through twenty four, the calendar has revealed Matt's deepest shame
connected him to a serial killer uncle, predicted murders before
they happened. Each trinket has been a promise of suffering
to come. Matt Klein was a boy who ran from
(02:19):
a fire and never stopped running. Now, thirty years later,
the flames have finally caught up. The shadowy figure of
his brother Stephen still watches from the darkness, smelling of
campfire and ash, enforcing rules. Matt never agreed to play
by five doors five days until Zervon's celebration reaches its peak,
(02:45):
and the demon is just getting started. Welcome Weirdos. I'm
(03:25):
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
(03:45):
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 Weirddarkness dot com slash Advent of Evil.
The calendar is waiting. Let's see what awaits us behind
today's door. Saturday, December twentieth, The night was long. I
(04:18):
refused to sleep, intent on not allowing Zervan the chance
to creep into my dreams again. He'd proven that even
in my dreams he could ruin my life. From the
time I drove myself home from the Winter Wonderland Festival
until the sun rose, I did nothing but try to
call and text Anika. I wanted to explain myself for
(04:42):
her to understand the truth and why I did what
I did. From checking her location on my phone, I
was able to see that she was safe at the
Sea Glass Motel, which was only a block away from
the town center. I tried to take comfort in the
fact that she and the boys were safe, but that
still didn't help the anguished urge I had to mend
(05:04):
the misconception between us. As I waited for a fresh
pot of coffee to brew, I anxiously paced around the house,
inevitably ending up in the living room along with the
sinister catalyst for every single thing that's gone wrong throughout
the month. The way it's sat on the table by
the fireplace, watching over the room, watching over us, and
(05:25):
made me sick. I felt like we were captives in
our own home, a devilish grasp on us. Refusing to
ease up, I approached the calendar, scrutinizing it with repulse.
The nineteen doors that were already opened had inflicted cruel
horrors across Marshport. The bottom row was made up of
the five remaining unopened doors, each of them certain to
(05:49):
contain another detestable, gruesome thing. Each of them was inevitable,
but that didn't stop me from thinking about what it
would feel like to ignore them all play by the rules.
Stephen's impaired, disembodied voice spoke with malice behind me. I
turned around and was struck by an acrid, smoky odor.
(06:10):
His small, scorched incarnation stood under the archway between the rooms.
I locked eyes on him, still alarmed by his burned,
ember ridden appearance, even after seeing him so many times already.
It disturbed me immensely. And what if I don't, I replied,
feeling desensitized to his threats, then the consequences will be dire,
(06:33):
I assertively finished his sentence. His body pulsed frantically with
glowing embers. He was not happy with themolish stance I'd
taken against him. I know, I said gruffly. I know
the threats. Maybe next time your defiant actions will lead
to the snakes actually killing your little boy. Stephen wheezed.
(06:56):
I flashed back to the snake wrapped around Mason as
he struggled in his bed in the attack. I know
you're not real, I said, You're a phantom, a manifestation
of the guilt that I have carried for such a
long time. His scorched embodiment began to flake away in small,
ashy detonations. I watched his fingers pop into black ash
(07:17):
and vanish into the air. Parts of his shoulder were
next in unison with the core of his midsection. What's happening,
I asked, with a sudden mounting of worry. Two eyes
opened on his face, burning like white hot bulbs. A
mouth split open and spewed ash and quivering cinder. You
have grown callous of me, he spoke in a harsh,
(07:40):
guttural voice. I hadn't heard him speak in before. Say
goodbye to your little brother again. Wait, I panic as
its entire body imploded into smoky dust and diffused throughout
the living room. Wait no, I screamed. Stephen felt an
overwhelming sense of madness and anger surge within me. What
(08:03):
was it? Was he gone? I didn't want to believe
I'd lost Stephen again. I rushed to the archway and
waved my hand through the lingering black dust, hoping there
was something left of him, real or not. It was
the only chance I had to communicate with my little brother.
I collapsed to my knees and cried. My emotions had
(08:27):
hit a fever pitch. I was forlorn, enraged, confused, and scared.
I mourned the loss of friends, feared for my family's lives,
and for a split self destructive second, I contemplated if
I even had what it took to endure the last
five days of Servan's narcissistic glorification, his plague, his curse.
(08:51):
Whatever it was he'd earmarked me and my family for,
had worn me down and was urging a surrender. Was
that what he wanted? Because I didn't die thirty years
ago with my family, was death my punishment for surviving? No.
I was a fighter, a survivor. I would not surrender
(09:14):
to intimidation, especially when the lives of Anika, Logan, and
Mason were on the line. I wiped the tears and
snot from my face and stood up, facing the calendar
like a hero faces off against his adversary during the
climax of a story. I marched toward it, asserting my gallantry,
and opened door number twenty. I reached in and pulled
(09:34):
out a half circle of flames. I felt a sense
of deja vous as I examined the item identical to
the one I'd pulled out on Wednesday. I flipped it
over looked at all the edges, it was the same.
Why another one, I thought, I glanced at the first one,
still propped up on the mantle of the fireplace. I
(09:57):
was dumbfounded, unable to grasp the meaning of having two
of them? Did the calendar missfire? Did Servon mess up somehow? Regardless?
It infuriated me. I faced the calendar once more, an
expulsion of rage bubbling up from my core. I threw
the half wooden circle of fire across the room and
then grabbed the calendar with both hands, my injured arm.
(10:20):
Feeling the pain of exertion, I ignored it, even fighting
off the growing discomfort on my calf. My body was crippling,
but I didn't let it stop me from throwing the
calendar to the ground. With every bit of streke. I
had it smacked to the floor, a couple of the
open doors, breaking away from their hinges and skittering across
the room. I kicked it, sending a long crack down
(10:41):
the back of the hell born gift. A burst of
pain swelled in my calf, bringing me to my knees.
I gripped my teeth in response to the ache, but
used my brond to stand right back up. As I
repeatedly kicked the calendar, grunting and swearing at it, the
house began to shake. I stopped my onslaught, and took
a step back. Things rattled on shelves. The Christmas tree
(11:04):
shivered and sent glass ornaments crashing to the floor. The
wooden board that replaced our window shook like invisible people
were pounding on it from either side. The gas fireplace
ignited on its own, and then the door to the
basement was thrown open by an unseen force. The stench
of death and decay rolled out from the basement had
assaulted my senses. I gagged and cautiously took a few
(11:26):
steps back, returning my attention to the beaten calendar on
the floor. It too was shaking uncontrollably, like something inside
of it wanted to come out. And then, without warning,
the spectral display of chaos halted on a dime, and
the basement door slammed shut, just as my doorbell rang.
I stood there for a moment longer, in complete shock
(11:47):
from what I had just witnessed. I had angered it,
and it felt good between step and vanishing, and then
the calender's violent response to my attack. I realized that
I retained some control still, and that was enough to
motivate me to dauntlessly push through whatever Zervan had left
(12:08):
up his sleeve. I would not go down without a fight.
The doorbell rang again, followed by a couple of quick,
hard knocks. I rushed to the door and unlocked it,
hoping to see Anika and the boys. But it wasn't
then Detective Davenport stood on the porch, the shoulders of
his coat collecting the large snowflakes that were falling. Could
(12:29):
I come in, he asked, with a sense of urgency.
I could tell by the tone of his voice that
something was wrong. I stepped aside and let him in.
He went straight for the living room side, glancing at
the damaged calendar and shattered ornaments on the floor. He
went straight for the wooden board that had temporarily replaced
our broken window and ran his fingers over it. What's
(12:49):
going on, I asked. Davenport turned around and faced me.
I asked, red to the offices and special teams that
were here the other day after the incident. Now it
one single person remembered bringing in or calling that contractor
that boarded up this window. He just showed up and
no one thought anything of it. It's like he was
steaking out the area or stalking around. I already knew
(13:13):
where this was going. I had already figured out who
the contractor really was. And even more unnerving than his
identity was the fact that his body was still stuffed
in the crawl space of my basement. I was too
wrapped up in the investigation, too busy to connect the
knots of his appearance to a hooded mystery man, Davenport admitted,
I think he is one of the same. If he
(13:34):
was the last one here, he might have left something aklo.
Perhaps can I take another look at your house? I
shook my head. This isn't really the best time, I said.
Davenport looked around, now acknowledging the vandalism in the living
room that he didn't know was ghostly in nature. Ornaments
were broken beneath the tree, pictures on the wall now
(13:56):
hung crookedly. The calendar lay upside down on the floor,
with a couple of its small square doors scattered around
and a long, jagged crack down its backside. The detective
looked back at me, where's Anika? He dubiously inquired. I
rolled my eyes. She's at the Sea Glass Motel. Davenport
(14:16):
tilted his head and winked trouble in paired as, Yes,
something like that, and you boys there with her? What
is this, I defensively questioned him, Another one of your
intimidation tactics, another accusatory canvassing. Davenport smirked out of the
corner of his mouth. He was getting under my skin,
(14:37):
and he knew that he'd spent an entire career savoring
that very feeling. The only difference was I wasn't one
of his criminals. I was a victim. He just didn't
know that yet. I assume this is the calender you
blame Joe infidelity on, he equipped, pointing down to the
damaged recipient of my attack. I wasn't sure how to
(14:58):
respond to Davenport's unexpect question. He could see the surprise
on my face, which only spawned another arrogant simper in
the corner of his mouth. Lieutenant Seas told me about
to fight. You guys, had it went to Wonderland last night?
Davenport explained. He mentioned something about an affair, and you
blamed an advent calendar for exposing it. Davenport chuckled. I
(15:18):
gotta be honest, man, I'd never heard an excuse quite
like that before. Stop it, I growled, wiping the arrogance
off his face with my stern approach. He stood guarded,
now ready for confrontation. Davenport boldly walked toward me, stopping
only a foot or two away. I held my ground,
as did he. I see a lot of things this month,
(15:40):
he said, with a strong cognizance. Things I'd never seen.
Things I could explain. You'ven put my finger on. I've
never seen this many deaths in Marshport ever, and for
them all to revolve around you, where I find that
remarkably suspicious, remarkably unnatural. I didn't bat an I or
(16:00):
let my focus saunter. I continued to combat his resolve
with mine. I've been doing this job a long time, Matt,
much longer than you've been with the force. I trust
my gut, and I know a truly guilty party when
I see one, he said. I then noticed something change
in his face. His strong facade began to wither against
(16:22):
all my intuitions, full of life of me, I just
don't see you anymore as a guilty party. I see
you as troubled, maybe in some kind of a predicament,
someone who's trapped and plagued by something that I haven't
yet been able to identify. Like I said, something unnatural.
Felt a weight lift from my shoulders, my chest eased up,
(16:45):
and a tinkle of relief rippled from my head down
to my toes. However, I remained vigilant. Davenport had tried
to trick me before turning an understanding conversation into an
interrogation in my very own kitchen. I had to operate
with caution. And what do you want me to say?
I asked, I want you to tell me the truth.
(17:05):
What's been going on? Well? What could I do to
help you so no one else gets hurt or killed? Clearly,
you are somehow deeply connected everything's been going on, But
I don't think you're involved with it. I think you
are somewhere burdened by it, and something's not right here.
This was my chance. I let my guard down, accepting
(17:26):
what Davenport was saying as true benevolence. I looked around
at the shattered ornaments, crooked frames, recalling the attack on
Anika and myself. The gunfire, the smoky smells, the sten
ship decay. I was tired of carrying it all. My
lips quivered and tears began to sting my eyes. I
(17:46):
swallowed my mouth dry and desperate to unveil the truth.
I needed help. Without thinking any further, the floodgates collapsed
and I explained everything to him. I told him about
my uncle, the spirit board, the fire and deaths. I
told him how the advent calendar showed up on December
first and has caused some sort of physical or mental
(18:07):
havoc every single day since. I told him that I
discovered the hooded man's identity, that he had died upstairs
and his body was crammed in my crawl space. Once
it was all out, I felt a much needed tranquility
radiate through me. Regardless of what Davenport's reaction would be,
the burden was no longer my own. Davenport put his
(18:29):
hand to his forehead. He looked clammy and pale. He
began to pace around the room, occasionally glancing down at
the calendar that would explain the priest. He said to himself,
trying to process everything I told him. I've always been
a skeptic regarding this kind of thing, he said, I
just choked it up to being in some sort of
unburifiable pseudoscience. If I didn't experience what I did when
(18:53):
I was ten, I would have too, I told him.
But seeing his believing, and I've seen too much to
not believe, demons and their unholy influence are as real
as the air we breathe. I spent so many years
trying to forget it, trying to bury it in the
most inaccessible parts of my mind. But now I can't
(19:14):
ignore it anymore. It's come back to haunt me. Davenport
put his hands on his hips and exhaled a loud
and long sigh. Did I see the body? He asked
a ten stup, but ultimately determined that it didn't matter
anymore whether he saw it or not. I had already
admitted it was there. My fate was in his hands.
(19:37):
I led Davenport to the basement. I assumed, with how
cold it was, it would keep the smell of decomposition
to bay for a while, But I was wrong. It
was overwhelmingly nauseating. We both covered our mouths and noses
as we descended the creaking wooden steps on the other
side of the cellar. I held my breath as I
removed the shoddily built wooden wall from the crawl space entrance.
(19:59):
Dust and fly emerged from the shadowy space behind it.
Davenport ignited a flashlight and aimed it inside. Wilber Ward's
body lay there, covered in a fresh layer of writhing maggots.
His skin was beginning to rot, his eyes were sunken
back further into his skull, and his lips had receded,
exposing the leathery gums and protruding teeth. Davenport protected his
(20:23):
senses again as he tried his best to examine the
body from a reasonable distance. Your sure this is wilbur Ward,
he asked, I'm sure. Davenport backed away and motioned for
me to replace the wooden wall in front of the
crawl space. Are you gotta report this, I asked. Davenport
(20:43):
pondered his options. If we call this in, he'll be
the prime suspect in his death. Well, an autopsy confirmed
the death was natural, though sure, but there'll be questions
about what he was doing in your house. To begin with,
why you hid the body and ultimately lea is connection
to your past? Who will come out. Then, what do
(21:04):
we do, I anxiously asked, not sure where to go
from here. I need time to think about this, to
comprehend everything and make sure my gut isn't deceiving me.
For the first time, he said, don't tell anyone else
about the body. Keep it quiet for now. I waved
more of the stanch away. How long does it have
to stay here? How long were you planning on not
(21:26):
telling anyone? He jabbed back. Before I had a chance
to respond to his sarcastic shot, his phone rang. This
is Detective Warn Davenport, he answered, as a muffled voice
spoke to him on the other line. His eyes shot
toward me. At that same moment, my phone rang, pulling
it out of my pocket, I saw it was Anaka calling.
(21:48):
I answered it and turned away from the detective. Anika,
I said breathlessly, Matt. Her voice was filled with emotion.
She'd been crying again. Oh what's wrong? There was an accident.
It's hurt. I felt my face go cold. Who Annaka?
Cleared her throat an employee of the motel. I'm at
(22:09):
the Sea Glass. I'll be right there, I said, ending
the call. I turned to Davenport and he was looking
right at me. It was an incident at the Sea
Glass Motel, he said, But I'm assuming you know that already.
I nodded, I'll drive, he said. I sat with Anika
in the lobby at the Sea Glass Motel. It wasn't
(22:30):
a large space, mostly designed for a quick chicken awaiting
area and shelves with snacks for sale. Logan and Mason
sat on the floor beside us while Detective Davenport spoke
with the motel clerk on the other side of the counter.
Annaka hadn't said much since we arrived due to her
emotional state, so most of the information I was able
to gather was strictly from eavesdropping on Davenport's conversation with
(22:54):
the clerk. From what I gathered, it sounded like Annaka
had called Jasmine and their conversation escalated quickly into a
shouting match over the phone. There was a noise complaint
called into the front desk, and when the manager knocked
on the door, Logan answered it, then stabbed a pen
directly into his neck. Davenport walked over to us next.
(23:16):
Annaka lifted her head and wiped tears from her face.
I breathed deeply and stood up to hear what he
had to say. He was at a loss for words
at first, looking back and forth between Anika and I,
and then finally down at Logan. Logan he said, could
I ask you a couple of questions? Is here to arrest?
(23:37):
I quickly interfered. Davenport's eyes met mine, wide and unsure
the situation. I'm trying to make that determination, he said,
as professionally as possible. He attacked someone violently. Would you
like him to have legal representation first? I wouldn't blame you.
Is that man going to be okay? Annika asked, clutching
her chest. Davenport looked at her with simple and then
(24:00):
glanced outside, where a number of police cars were parked
and the ambulance that carried the manager began to drive
away with its sirens wailing. Hopefully, he said, Logan didn't
hit any major arteries, so Annaka sighed heavily in relief,
hanging her head back down. At the same time, Logan
stood up. He whispered something outside the door. Logan said
(24:23):
he had our attention. What did he whisper? Davenport asked,
I wanted to stop Davenport from his question. I wanted
to protect Logan's rights, but with the onslaught of supernatural
violence that had swallowed the month of December, I desperately
wanted to know what it was that the motel manager
whispered that caused Logan to want to stab him. Logan
(24:44):
lowered his head and muttered something inaudible. Davenport leaned closer.
Anika grabbed my arm. See that again, please, Davenport instructed him.
Logan slowly looked up at the detective and locked eyes
with him. He said he was going to kill it
woitted the room if he didn't get silence. Davenport stood
upright and stepped back. He turned to the clerk behind
(25:07):
the counter, as a motil man, actually have a threatened
customers before? The clerk shrugged, Not that I know of,
But stranger things have happened. Davenport looked at me. Indeed
they have. We spent the next couple of hours at
the police station. I felt very uncomfortable not being on
(25:29):
the working side of things. Davenport interviewed Logan with me
and a lawyer at his side. The interrogation didn't really
unveil anything new or earth shattering. Logan stuck to his
story about the manager whispering a threat through the door.
I felt like we really danger, he said, whimpering. My
parents were both detected at our house earlier in the week,
(25:49):
and I thought it was about to happen again. Only
my dad wasn't there to protect us. He wasn't there
to save us. Logan's words burrowed under my skin and
rattled me. I imagine Stephen uttering those same words thirty years ago.
He wasn't there to save us. I can understand how
you felt the need to protect your family, Davenport said,
(26:11):
especially you being the oldest child. There's a certain reputation
or a clout that naturally comes with that. Davenport's words
weren't helping. Everything kept reminding me of that damn night.
I did want anyone else to die, Logan said, I
didn't meet it hurt that man. I hope he's okay.
Logan's words seemed genuine and like they were coming from
(26:33):
the heart. He looked at me with tears in his eyes.
Can we go home, dad, he asked. I looked to
Davenport for that answer. He thought about his options for
a moment and then said, we'll release Logan. He must
remain at home while we continue this investigation. Any breakage
of that stipulation will result in him and you be interested.
(26:53):
Am I clear? Clear? I repeated. Within the next few
minutes and I were leaving the precinct. Once we were
in the car, and before I started the engine, I
asked him a question. Did he really whisper that? Logan
gawked at me, probably confused as to why I would
need to hear it again after just discussing it with
(27:15):
the police. He nodded silently. And you felt like you
were in danger? I said, you felt like your mom
and Mason were in danger. He nodded again. They're all
in danger, he said, you are too. His words alarmed
me because of everything that's been happening this month, I asked,
(27:35):
trying to clarify. Logan was silent as he slowly shook
his head. He just lowered at me, his eyes seemingly stuck,
his body frozen in a state of inactiveness. I felt
uncomfortable and adjusted in my seat. Why are we in danger?
I asked. That's when Logan smiled, but it wasn't as cute, innocent,
(27:57):
normal smile. There was something else behind it, something foreign,
something corrupt? Why, I repeated louder, but he didn't answer.
He just faced forward, retaining his wide eyed stare and
corrupt grin. I swallowed hard, started the engine, and drove home,
(28:19):
experiencing the most uncomfortable and foreboding ride of my life.
As soon as we pulled in, I saw another car
with New York plates parked in the driveway. It was
my foster parents. With everything that had been going on,
I had completely forgotten they were coming. Grandma and Grandpa
are here, I blithely said to Logan. I looked over
(28:43):
at him, and the unnatural look on his face that
began our car ride was gone. It had been replaced
by want of happiness and excitement. Do you think they
brought gifts? They got me what I asked for, he exclaimed,
throwing the door open and racing out of the car.
I watched him trudge through the snow and into the
house without regard. I was left concerned. Wilbur, Davenport and
(29:04):
Jasmine were officially off my suspect list of vessels, apt
enough for Zervan, and as sick as it made me feel,
Do we even think, Logan it skyrocketed up that list?
I had no other way of explaining how he was acting.
Between the way he obtained and showed the picture of
Jasmine to create disorder to the stabbing of the motel
(29:25):
manager in a bone chilling way in which he spoke
in the car, I had no other explanation. For the
sake of my own sanity and my family. I prayed
I was wrong. I prayed I was overthinking it. But
after all, demons can deceive. I walked into the house
(29:45):
and it finally felt like a complete home again, save
for the mending that still needed to take place between
Anika and I. Everyone was in the kitchen. Anako was
shuffling through Chinese takeout menus when Logan had burst in
and thrown huge hugs around his grandparents. Once he let
them go, they came over to me with smiles and
warm hugs. Merry Christmas, my mom said, kissing me on
(30:09):
the cheek. Merry Christmas, Matthew, my dad said, grabbing my
hand and pulling me in for a hug. I didn't
see them nearly as much as I used to, or
nearly as much as I should have. They were getting older,
and that made me sad. When my birth parents and
grandmother died. They stepped in mister and missus Bob and
Sandy Kline. Without them, my future would not have been possible.
(30:33):
I owed them everything. I'm glad you guys were able
to come. I said, are you staying through Christmas? No?
My dad said, just through Monday. We'll be leaving Tuesday mornings,
so we're home for Christmas. Eve. Well, I'm really happy
that you're here, I said, feeling a wide variety of emotions.
You guys are a sight for sore eyes. My mom smiled,
(30:55):
sensing the stress hiding behind my words, and then solicitously
surveyed my bandaged arm man. Can I say you're super quick?
In the living room? Annaka called out from across the kitchen.
I obliged and followed her lead. My parents and the
boys remained in the kitchen, talking and laughing. As soon
as I walked into the living room, I saw the
broken ornaments, the damaged advent calendar, and the crooked frames
(31:17):
on the wall. Annaka planted herself in the center of
the room and crossed her arms. So what happened at
the police station? She asked. Davenport allowed him to come
home until they were able to get a little further
into the investigation. He can't leave the house though. Is
he going to get arrested? I shrugged. I don't know,
(31:38):
but I stopped talking and looked over my shoulder, making
sure the coast was clear. I lowered my voice. I
think we need to keep an eye on him. Why
he was acting really weird in the car, almost like
he wasn't himself. Annaka nodded. I assume he would feel
a little disconnected from reality, she said. He stabbed at
(31:59):
that guy with full force. Matt, it was terrifying. He
walked right over to the door, opened it and thrust
the pen into his neck. I squinted. He didn't listen
first like, he didn't put his ear to the door
and listened to what the manager was saying. Annika strained
her voice. It was all in one fluent motion. There
wouldn't have been any time for him to hear that man.
(32:22):
She looked away from me, trying to conceal her angst.
It was only then that she noticed the dismay and
disorder in the room. What happened here? I could have
told her it was all the demonic tremor that ruptured
throughout the house, but I was proud of the damage
I'd inflicted on the advent calendar. Before I had a
chance to answer her, Logan and Mason burst into the room,
(32:44):
hollering with excitement. They were each holding a side of
a rectangular wrapped present. Look, Grandma, Grandpa, I got a
son early Christmas gift, Mason exclaimed, jumping up and down.
Logan appeared just as excited, which made me feel a
little better. Maybe Anika was right. Maybe after stabbing someone
like that, he felt disconnected from himself. Maybe he was
feeling guilty, or hurt or scared. I felt horrible for
(33:08):
even considering the idea that Zervan had seized him. I
was a terrible person. Jill, you opened it, Logan asked,
looking directly at me. Of course, I told them, trying
to sideline the guilt I was feeling. Logan and Mason
sat on the ground and tore into the package. Anika
stood by my side but kept the distance. My parents
(33:30):
lingered behind the boys in the archway, holding hands. Oh
what is this, Mason asked, as the gift finally unfurled
from within the wrapping paper. As the paper hit the ground,
I felt as if time itself stopped. I felt cold,
and my heart rapidly picked up its pace. I felt
Anika grabbed my arm and squeeze it with fearful strength.
(33:51):
Logan stood up, holding the gift solely in his hands.
It was a spirit board. Everything around me started spinning.
I felt off balance. I took a step forward, but
stumbled back, bumping into Anika. Like I was in a
drunken haze. I heard Logan exclaim in my foggy state,
this is exactly what I asked for, a spirit board.
(34:12):
You asked for a spirit board, I questioned, feeling as
if my words were coming out in slow motion. Logan
locked eyes with me again. They were wide, just like
they had been in the car. His smile wasn't his own.
He nodded slowly and menacingly. This is exactly what I wanted,
just like when you were ten, he said, somehow, without
(34:33):
moving his mouth. His disembodied voice reminded me of how
I'd heard Stephen Logan's eerie stare lingered on me. His
discarnate voice continued shifting into a darker, deeper vocalization. Does
this all feel familiar? Matthew an early gift a spirit
board a ten year old boy and his seven year
(34:54):
old brother destined for the flames. No, I exhaled, stumbling
further back, knocking over the table where the advent calendar
was normally perched. Annaka tried to help me keep my balance.
She was talking to me, saying things, but I couldn't
hear them. Every sound, aside from the voice Logan was
spectrally conveying, was non existent. Everything comes full circle, his
(35:19):
demonic voice roared. Logan's static stare finally cracked, and his
eyes snapped in the direction of the mantle behind me.
I turned and saw the half wooden circle of flames.
I remembered the other identical half I'd pulled from the
calendar earlier in the day. It was on the floor
by my feet. I picked it up, one of them
in each of my hands. Everything comes full circle, his
(35:44):
voice rang in my head. I adjusted the two half
circles and fit them together, creating a full wooden circle
of flames. Upon their fastening, the object seemingly came to life,
completely igniting in my hands. For a fraction of a second,
I watched the flames roll and whirl around, nearly sending
me into a hypnotic trance. Before my mind fought back,
(36:06):
and I let it fall to the ground. The burning
ring of flames hit the floor, where it instantly combusted
into a quick flash of hell fire before dissolving into oblivion.
My hearing came back. Anaka was in mid shriek. My
parents were clamoring through the room to my aid, and
Mason stood under the archway with his hands shielding his face.
Are you okay, Dad, I heard Logan ask me. I
(36:30):
looked his way, but there wasn't even an inkling of
true concern on his face or in his voice. I
was convinced of it now. Zervon was here and he
had my son. 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
(36:54):
read the full novel for yourself in print, it's available
in paperback, hardback, and kindle versions Weird Darkness dot com
slash Advent of Evil. That's also where you can go
to hear each of the twenty four chapters as they're posted.
I'm Darren Marler. Thanks for celebrating Advent with me. In
the Weird Darkness
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