December 2, 2025 • 24 mins
TUESDAY, DECEMBER 02: Witnessing a car accident leaves Officer Klein shaken—not because of the crash itself, but what appears to have caused it. Meanwhile, questions mount about Zack Welch's bizarre crime and the strange young visitor who convinced him to commit the deed.
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):
Officer Matthew cleines. December begins with an inexplicable event, arresting
his best friend's son, a good kid with no record
for a violent attack, at a local cafe. But that's
only the start. When Matt arrives home, a mysterious gift
to waits on his porch, an ancient wooden advent calendar
with no sender, no note, and a carved face with
(00:27):
empty eyes at its center. His wife sees Christmas magic,
Matt sees something else entirely. When the family opens the
first door, the trinket inside bears an unsettling resemblance to
Matt's childhood home, and moments later it bursts into flames
in his hand. That night, as Matt lies awake, haunted
(00:48):
by fragmented memories, a damaged voice whispers through the darkness,
calling out to someone named Uncle David. Welcome, Weirdos. I'm
(01:32):
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
(01:52):
each day, but what we find behind these doors may
not be the gift you're expecting. You can find all
of 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. Tuesday, December second. I didn't remember actually falling asleep,
(02:26):
but I must have. At some point. One minute I
was awake and sitting up in bed, wondering where that
haunting voice had come from, wondering why the burning smell
had dissipated so quickly. Next I was opening my eyes
at the sound of my three am alarm. I slowly
climbed out of bed so as to not disrupt anarchist sleep,
(02:49):
and slunk away to the shower. The hot water felt
good against my skin. It was refreshing and much needed
to hopefully restore my body to its normal state, the
state without beeething nerves over a wooden antique advent calendar
and resurfaced memories that I thought I had guarded. After
the shower, I did feel renewed. I dressed in my
(03:11):
tactical blue police uniform and readied myself for another day
of patrol. I had high hopes for an uneventful day,
nothing that would have me arresting my best friend's son
or dealing with the arrival of another puzzling Christmas bestowment.
I brewed a fresh pot of coffee, knowing I'd still
be stopping at the Joe and Go cafe a little
later on in my shift, and ate a quick bowl
(03:32):
of cereal at the kitchen table. However, with each spoonful
eye ate, it was hard not to be aware of
the ominous presence the advent calendar, pledged only a foot
or so away from me. It stood upright on the table,
looming over me and casting shadows down over my coffee
and cereal, like it was a monolith blocking out the sunlight.
(03:54):
I finished chewing my cereal and sat my spoon down.
Then I studied the antique further. I looked it over,
up and down, kind of admiring the detail put into
the engravings of the garland that bordered it, as well
as the bearded man at the center. A waft of
its musty odor drifted my way and I was immediately
reminded of the past again. I closed my eyes and
(04:18):
could remember that same distinct musty Odor, I remember the
letters and numbers. I remember the horrible mistake we had made.
A hand on my shoulder startled me out of my thoughts,
and I jumped. I turned around to see Annika standing there,
half asleep and rubbing her eyes. Are you feeling okay?
She asked me. Ah, yeah, I said, standing up and
(04:41):
walking my bowl at the sake, just getting something in
my stomach before I head out. I placed the bowl
in the sink and let the running water from the
faucet rents out the remaining milk and swollen cheerios. When
I turned back to Annika, I noticed she was now
staring at the calendar. Are you okay, I asked, coming
up as yeah, she said, yawning. She looked at me
(05:04):
and smiled. I smelled the coffee and just wanted to
tell you to have a good day. We shared a
kiss and a smile, and then she returned her gaze
to the calendar. Hopefully the kid's little prize doesn't explode
like the fourth of July to day, she joked. I smirked,
knowing she was joking. But then I turned my attention
to the calendar as well, and I'm not coiled in
(05:25):
my stomach. It is December second, I said, want me
to open it to make sure it's safe. Annik smiled.
You mean, since you're the only one strong enough to
open the tiny door, I am the strongest guy in history,
I joked, you heard Mason. Annika looked at the calendar again. Sure,
(05:47):
she agreed, and make sure this one doesn't burn our
house down. I jumped at the chance to open door
number two. I pinched the small black handle and pulled
on the door, and again it opened with ease. Annika
flipped on the kitchen light. As I reached my finger
into the next shadowy nook, they greased something soft and smooth,
something wispy and delicate. I pinched it and extracted the
(06:10):
day's surprise, a feather. Annika quietly snorted, holding back a
small laugh. I looked at it. Yeah, I confirmed a feather.
I wasn't sure what to make of it. It was
a red feather, probably from a cardinal if I had
to take a guess, frayed near its thin white shaft
at the bottom. The kids'll be disappointed again. Annika said,
(06:33):
these little gifts aren't very christmasy. I wish I knew
who left this thing. Me too, I said, shoving the
feather back into the nook and closing the door just
about all the way. The kids would be disappointed for sure,
but at least they'd be safe. There's no way I
could see a feather causing any kind of mayhem. I
(06:54):
spent the first couple of hours of my shift at
the station going through some old files and reports that
had expired or weren't necessary to keep around anymore. We
did this at the end of each year to make
sure our station stayed as clean and as easily accessible
as possible for the incoming new year. It was something
our Lieutenant, Deacon Sears liked to enforce, and because Marshport
(07:14):
was such a quiet, monotonous blip on the map of Maine,
the task usually didn't take very long. In fact, by
seven a m. Just as the sun was cresting over
the Gulf of Maine's frigid horizon, I was already on
my last report, the one I had filed yesterday on
Zach Welch and his bizarre crime. I looked up and
saw Lieutenant Sears walking past the desk I was working
(07:36):
at and spun around in my chair. Hey, Lieutenant, I
called out to him. Lieutenant Sears stopped and faced me.
He was a large, bald, dark skinned man with a
daunt bill who always wore polished suits and today was
no different. But as professional and daunting as he looked,
Sears had a heart of gold and a smile that
(07:57):
could make anyone feel comfortable. And good morning, Sear said,
walking back toward me, casually stuffing his hands into his pockets. Morning,
I said, standing up, but still falling a few inches
short of his height. I haven't been down to the
holding cells yet this morning. How'd Zach fair last night?
He was released into his father's custody around dinner time yesterday.
(08:17):
Sears said, he'll have a court arraignment coming up soon.
But the investigation isn't turning up a whole lot right now,
What do you mean? I asked? Seiars adjusted his stance
and continued, There was no robbery. He didn't break in,
and he didn't actually assault anyone. You stopped him before
that had a chance to transpire. We might get him
(08:39):
on an intimidation charge. He'll get a fine and an
official criminal record. But Sears shrugged without having anything else
to add. He still didn't say why he did what
he did. I asked, Sears chuckled. Get this. He claims
some other kid told him to do it to send
a message. I could feel my face contort. What kid?
(09:05):
Sears shrugged again. His father requested a lawyer before we
had a chance to get that nugget of information. That's
so we got. Unfortunately, but the parting wink, Lieutenant Sears
went on his way and left me with only more
questions than answers. I was going to have to call
Simon myself and pray he would want to tell me
something as a friend and off the record, because I
(09:27):
still couldn't fathom why Zack would do such a thing.
By mid morning, I was on patrol. The streets were
busy for their normal fifteen minute stretch, and once the
traffic had dispersed, I drove over to Anchor Street to
the Joe and Go Cafe. When I walked in, it
was slightly more crowded than it was when I burst
through the doors and arrested Zach the day before. A
(09:48):
couple of the booths were full and most of the
stools of the counter were occupied. I walked up to
the register, where the young, pink haired barista was cashing
out a customer. When it was my turn. She already
knew me. A tall black coffee and a crowller, she repeated,
as if it were second nature, and then rang it
up on the register. She'd offered many times to comp
(10:08):
my order, but the Joe inng was such a small,
family owned establishment that I wanted to make sure they
got every single penny that was coming to them. My
foster parents used to own a small bakery of their
own in Essex, so I knew the importance of each
and every penny. You know, I've never caught your name,
I said, pulling out my wallet as the total rang
up on the screen before me. Gwen, she said, moving
(10:31):
a strand of her pink hair away from her face.
She accepted the money and gave me my change. For
a minute, she hesitated looking back up at me, but
when she did, I could see she was either nervous
or curious to ask me something. There was a question
on the tip of her tongue, so I offered up
my friendliest smile to help encourage it to come loose.
(10:52):
And it did in a small, quiet and innocent voice.
Did that kid go to jail? She asked. There's an
ongoing investigation. I said, so, I can't really talk much
about it, but yes, he did go to jail. I
answered a question. Honestly, Zach did go to jail, but
Gwen didn't need to know that he'd already been released.
(11:15):
Did he say anything when he came in here yesterday?
I inquired? Gwen thought, for a moment, not a whole lot.
It was hard to hear him underneath the mask. His
voice was muffled. He demanded to see my dad, Carl,
he's the cook. He seemed angry. I don't know why.
I pointed to the kitchen, but when I did, he
pulled out that pipe or whatever it was and charged
(11:36):
back there. He was yelling and threatening my dad. That's
when I called the police. Is your dad here now,
I asked. Gwen shook her head. No. He took the
day off. He was a little rattled after what happened.
I bet another employee sat in my coffee and cruller
on the counter. I grabbed them and gave Gwen one
(11:57):
last friendly smile. I'm sorry he had to go through
that yesterday. We'll get this whole thing all sorted out.
Gwen smiled, but behind it I could sense dread. I
could tell she was just as unnerved as her father was.
And who would blame her an angry masked assailant invades
your place of employment with a tire iron and tries
to attack your dad. I would have been just as afraid.
(12:21):
I stepped away from the counter and was leaving the
Joe and Go just as Bridget Carr was walking through
the door, bundled up in an elegant winter coat, scarf around
her neck, and a hand knitted beanie on her head.
Meet you, she said, seemingly ecstatic to see me. Bridget, Hi,
I said, giving her a half hug and trying not
to spill my coffee or crush my donut bag. Day Tomiro,
(12:42):
she said, pulling away from me. The star of the
show will be here, bright and early. The tree, I
quickly concluded, laughing at her description of it. That's exciting.
I'm sure they'll have me directing the traffic again so
that thing can make it into town. Perfect, she said.
She looked at my coffee and doughnut and then laughed,
you are such a cop. Yeah, well, god to fit
(13:04):
the status quo, I said. Bridget placed a hand on
my arm and giggled, well till anakin the boys. I said, Hi.
She winked and continued toward the counter. That wasn't the
first time she'd placed a hand on me. That wasn't
even the first time she'd winked at me. She really
knew how to make a married man feel uncomfortable. I
(13:25):
barely made it into my cruiser when my phone rang.
It was Simon. Welch. I answered it as quickly as
I could. Simon, I answered with urgency. Matthew, he replied,
his voice sounding dejected and dim. Can you meet me
for lunch? Of course, I said. I glanced at the
clock on the dash. It was just about ten am.
Uh When and where I could take my break? At
(13:47):
eleven thirty at the fry Nest? He said, it's on
my route. I'll be there. I told him. There was
a brief, awkward silence on the line before Simon cleared
his throat to say goodbye. There was obvious embarrassed in
his voice, and I knew whatever he wanted to talk
to me about was going to be off the record.
As a sworn in police officer. It would be hard
to keep any of it to myself, but as a
(14:09):
friend to Simon for nearly ten years, it should be easy.
Just as we arranged on the phone, I met Simon
at the Frying Nest at eleven thirty. I parked my
Cruiser next to a USPS mail truck in the parking lot,
and unless another Marshport mail carrier was taking their break
at the Frying Nest as well, I knew the truck
belonged to Simon. He'd been with the Postal Service for
(14:31):
nearly twenty years, almost as long as I'd been with
law enforcement. The Frying Nest was a small burger, fries,
and milkshake kind of place that sat at the corner
of Lion Crest and Sorrento Street. It was decorated fully
for the Christmas season. Garland was strung around the windows,
glowing with tiny blue lights. Wreaths hung on every wall,
and classic Christmas music played softly over the speaker system,
(14:52):
once again taking me back to when I was a
kid and the holiday season was much more enjoyable. Simon
and I sat at a table near the back. He
didn't say a whole lot until the waitress brought our
food out to us. After the first bite of his burger,
he was ready to talk. I'm so ashamed by what
Zach did yesterday. Simon eventually said, I'm so sorry you
(15:14):
had to be the one to take him in like that.
I nodded, taking a bite of my food. I decided
that I would just let him talk and hear him
out before I interjected anything on my own. Simon continued,
You know Zach, You've known him for a long time.
That's not him, that's not his personality. Simon sat his
(15:36):
burger down. Zach told me some kid showed up at
the house yesterday morning before he left for school. The
kid told him he was a post to help send
a message. I finished chewing my bite and sat my
burger down as well. I was confused. Send a message
to the cook to Carl Martin. Simon shrugged. Do you
(15:57):
or Zach know Carl Well? Simon shook his head, only
by name, just from around town. We've never even spoken
to him. Who was that kid that came to the house,
I asked next. Simon shrugged. His eyes looked glassy, like
he'd been crying quite a bit over the last twenty
four hours. Zach insists that he doesn't know, he'd never
(16:19):
seen him before. Why would he trust some random kid
that he's never met before? I asked, starting to lose
my appetite. Something about the story wasn't making sense to me.
Simon shrugged again, and I was starting to grow slightly irritated,
not at Simon in particular, but at the situation. It
wasn't adding up. Was Zach able to describe the kid
(16:41):
at all? Could he give us any identifying features? I
inquired further. Simon took a small sip of a soda.
He said the kid was young, much younger than him,
maybe six or seven. Oh and he smelled like he'd
been sitting around a campfire all night. I sat back
in my seat. Why would Zack, a smart seventeen year
(17:04):
old high school student, trust anything a strange, unknown child
would tell him? Did Zach say what the kid was where?
We were interrupted by the sound of screeching tires outside.
It was so loud that it sounded like it was
actually inside the frying nest. Simon and I turned our
heads and looked out the closest window, just in time
to see a maroon minivan swerving out of control on
(17:26):
the street and slam headfirst into an oncoming car. Instinct
kicked in and I leaped out of my seat and
out the door through the lightly falling snow. I rushed
out into the road We're Onlookers were starting to gather
around the accident. The minivan was totaled, as was the
other car that had hit. Smoke billowed up from underneath
both vehicles hoods. I tried to look through the cracked
(17:47):
passenger window of a minivan. Someone was inside dressed in black,
and slumped over the wheel. Using my elbow and as
much force as I could muster, I shattered the window
in order to get a better look at the driver.
His black at time and white clerical caller was a
dead giveaway of his identity. It was past her Heart
or Russell from the local church. He was bleeding from
his forehead and appeared unconscious. I grabbed my shoulder mic
(18:11):
and radioed for paramedics and backup. I wasn't even done
with my request when I heard sirens blaring in the distance,
so it was obvious that someone else had also. Very
quickly decided to call a nine one one. I hurried
over to the next car The windows were also too
cracked to see through, so I yanked on the door handle.
The door made a horrible squealing noise as I forced
(18:32):
it open. An older woman was slumped over in the
driver's seat as well, also unconscious and bleeding from various places.
I felt for a pulse in her neck and was
quickly able to determine that she had one, although it
was very faint. I lifted her head slightly as to
not injure her further, and tried to communicate. Ma'am, can
you hear me? I asked with urgency. She responded with
(18:54):
imperceptible murmurs, but at least it was a response. Help
is on the way, I assured her just I backed
away from the car and looked at the maroon minivan,
where I could see Pastor Hart starting to move through
the cracked windshield. I felt relief that both parties were
still alive and began to breathe easy. But then my
breathing seemed to stop. Time seemed to stop. On the
(19:17):
cracked windshield of the minivan, I saw what could very
easily have been the catalyst for the accident to begin
with a cardinal reduced to a gooey, bloody mess was
splashed across the windshield. Blood and red feathers ornamented the
glass and hood of the van like some kind of
morbid children's art project. Red feathers I thought, I remembered
(19:41):
when I pulled her red feather out of the advent
calendar before work. I was convinced there was no way
it could lead to mayhem. I was wrong. When I
got home and Annika asked me how my day was,
I told her it was mostly uneventful. I didn't tell
her about the accident, the cardinal, the red feathers. I
(20:04):
didn't tell her about the strange circumstances that led to
Zach Welch committing his crime. I kept it all to myself.
I didn't want her to worry. I knew she would.
I was even starting to worry. There were too many
strange things starting to happen around town, and I didn't
have a single clue as to how to explain them. Sure,
maybe I was overreacting or overthinking things. It wouldn't have
(20:27):
been the first time, but it was all hard to
ignore when this many unordinary things started happening in a
very ordinary town like Marshport. I waited until Anika and
the kids were asleep before I slipped back downstairs to
observe the advent calendar again. At some point during the day,
Annika had moved it from the kitchen table to the
(20:48):
living room and propped it up on a small table
next to the fireplace. I approached the calendar, standing a
good two or three feet away from it, and examined it.
The first two doors had been opened and emptied of
their contents. The first one sheltered a small house that
resembled my childhood at home. That tiny house burned just
as the real one did. The second door revealed a
(21:11):
red feather, a cardinal feather, and during the day at work,
I just happened to be present for a near fatal
accident that was caused by a cardinal smashing into one
of the vehicle's windshields. It was hard not to take
it personally at this point, but I figured whatever was
hidden behind door number three could either make or break
my growing theory that this calendar was somehow meant for me.
(21:35):
I took a couple of steps forward and pinched the
small black handle on door number three, but when I
tried to open it, it wouldn't budge strange. I thought
I had no problem at all with the first two doors.
I tried pulling on it again. I tried turning the handle, nothing.
It looked off to my right. Next to our recliner
(21:57):
was anaka's basket of yarn and sewing needles. I grabbed
one of the needles and tried using it to shimmy
the third door open. That's when I felt a cold
rush of air behind me. I stopped what I was
doing and turned around to an empty tenebrous living room,
only dimly lit by our Christmas lights, but in the
shadows of the archway that led to the next room,
(22:17):
I saw the dark silhouette of a small child Mason.
I called out, my voice cracking. The silhouetted figure didn't respond,
didn't move. The familiar scent of something burning filled my
nostrils again. I was reminded of the past. I was
also reminded of what Simon had told me at lunch
about how Zack was approached by a small child that
(22:40):
stunk of a campfire. Who are you? I trembled, now,
gripping the knitting needle in a more defensive manner. The
silhouetted figure then raised an arm and pointed behind me
at the Advent calendar. In the same young, strained and
hoarse voice I had heard in our bedroom last night.
The figure spoke indolently at a time, follow the rules,
(23:04):
who are you? I repeated, only with more dominion. The
figure thrust his arm forward, enforcing its warning. I couldn't
help but notice tiny flecks of something black break away
from his arm and drift through the air. Follow the
rules and the consequences will be dire. I felt another
rush of cold air behind me, so I spun around
(23:24):
and was face to face with the advent calendar again.
When I turned back to address the shadowy intruder, he
was gone. My grasp on the knitting needle east and
a tense state in which my muscles had assumed began
to relax one day at a time. Follow the rules,
or the consequences will be dire. I wasn't sure what
(23:48):
the consequences would be for trying to open the next
door early, but after what I just encountered, I knew
that what I was dealing with was something out of
my control, something that I didn't understand, and, quite frankly,
something that was starting to frighten me. Thanks for listening.
(24:09):
If you like what you're hearing, please share it with
someone you know who loves scary stories at Christmas time.
If you like to read the full novel for yourself
in print, it's available in paperback, hardback, and kindle versions
at Weirddarkness dot com slash Advent of Evil. 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
(24:31):
celebrating Advent with me in the Weird Darkness
Officer Matthew cleines. December begins with an inexplicable event, arresting
his best friend's son, a good kid with no record
for a violent attack, at a local cafe. But that's
only the start. When Matt arrives home, a mysterious gift
to waits on his porch, an ancient wooden advent calendar
with no sender, no note, and a carved face with
(00:27):
empty eyes at its center. His wife sees Christmas magic,
Matt sees something else entirely. When the family opens the
first door, the trinket inside bears an unsettling resemblance to
Matt's childhood home, and moments later it bursts into flames
in his hand. That night, as Matt lies awake, haunted
(00:48):
by fragmented memories, a damaged voice whispers through the darkness,
calling out to someone named Uncle David. Welcome, Weirdos. I'm
(01:32):
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
(01:52):
each day, but what we find behind these doors may
not be the gift you're expecting. You can find all
of 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. Tuesday, December second. I didn't remember actually falling asleep,
(02:26):
but I must have. At some point. One minute I
was awake and sitting up in bed, wondering where that
haunting voice had come from, wondering why the burning smell
had dissipated so quickly. Next I was opening my eyes
at the sound of my three am alarm. I slowly
climbed out of bed so as to not disrupt anarchist sleep,
(02:49):
and slunk away to the shower. The hot water felt
good against my skin. It was refreshing and much needed
to hopefully restore my body to its normal state, the
state without beeething nerves over a wooden antique advent calendar
and resurfaced memories that I thought I had guarded. After
the shower, I did feel renewed. I dressed in my
(03:11):
tactical blue police uniform and readied myself for another day
of patrol. I had high hopes for an uneventful day,
nothing that would have me arresting my best friend's son
or dealing with the arrival of another puzzling Christmas bestowment.
I brewed a fresh pot of coffee, knowing I'd still
be stopping at the Joe and Go cafe a little
later on in my shift, and ate a quick bowl
(03:32):
of cereal at the kitchen table. However, with each spoonful
eye ate, it was hard not to be aware of
the ominous presence the advent calendar, pledged only a foot
or so away from me. It stood upright on the table,
looming over me and casting shadows down over my coffee
and cereal, like it was a monolith blocking out the sunlight.
(03:54):
I finished chewing my cereal and sat my spoon down.
Then I studied the antique further. I looked it over,
up and down, kind of admiring the detail put into
the engravings of the garland that bordered it, as well
as the bearded man at the center. A waft of
its musty odor drifted my way and I was immediately
reminded of the past again. I closed my eyes and
(04:18):
could remember that same distinct musty Odor, I remember the
letters and numbers. I remember the horrible mistake we had made.
A hand on my shoulder startled me out of my thoughts,
and I jumped. I turned around to see Annika standing there,
half asleep and rubbing her eyes. Are you feeling okay?
She asked me. Ah, yeah, I said, standing up and
(04:41):
walking my bowl at the sake, just getting something in
my stomach before I head out. I placed the bowl
in the sink and let the running water from the
faucet rents out the remaining milk and swollen cheerios. When
I turned back to Annika, I noticed she was now
staring at the calendar. Are you okay, I asked, coming
up as yeah, she said, yawning. She looked at me
(05:04):
and smiled. I smelled the coffee and just wanted to
tell you to have a good day. We shared a
kiss and a smile, and then she returned her gaze
to the calendar. Hopefully the kid's little prize doesn't explode
like the fourth of July to day, she joked. I smirked,
knowing she was joking. But then I turned my attention
to the calendar as well, and I'm not coiled in
(05:25):
my stomach. It is December second, I said, want me
to open it to make sure it's safe. Annik smiled.
You mean, since you're the only one strong enough to
open the tiny door, I am the strongest guy in history,
I joked, you heard Mason. Annika looked at the calendar again. Sure,
(05:47):
she agreed, and make sure this one doesn't burn our
house down. I jumped at the chance to open door
number two. I pinched the small black handle and pulled
on the door, and again it opened with ease. Annika
flipped on the kitchen light. As I reached my finger
into the next shadowy nook, they greased something soft and smooth,
something wispy and delicate. I pinched it and extracted the
(06:10):
day's surprise, a feather. Annika quietly snorted, holding back a
small laugh. I looked at it. Yeah, I confirmed a feather.
I wasn't sure what to make of it. It was
a red feather, probably from a cardinal if I had
to take a guess, frayed near its thin white shaft
at the bottom. The kids'll be disappointed again. Annika said,
(06:33):
these little gifts aren't very christmasy. I wish I knew
who left this thing. Me too, I said, shoving the
feather back into the nook and closing the door just
about all the way. The kids would be disappointed for sure,
but at least they'd be safe. There's no way I
could see a feather causing any kind of mayhem. I
(06:54):
spent the first couple of hours of my shift at
the station going through some old files and reports that
had expired or weren't necessary to keep around anymore. We
did this at the end of each year to make
sure our station stayed as clean and as easily accessible
as possible for the incoming new year. It was something
our Lieutenant, Deacon Sears liked to enforce, and because Marshport
(07:14):
was such a quiet, monotonous blip on the map of Maine,
the task usually didn't take very long. In fact, by
seven a m. Just as the sun was cresting over
the Gulf of Maine's frigid horizon, I was already on
my last report, the one I had filed yesterday on
Zach Welch and his bizarre crime. I looked up and
saw Lieutenant Sears walking past the desk I was working
(07:36):
at and spun around in my chair. Hey, Lieutenant, I
called out to him. Lieutenant Sears stopped and faced me.
He was a large, bald, dark skinned man with a
daunt bill who always wore polished suits and today was
no different. But as professional and daunting as he looked,
Sears had a heart of gold and a smile that
(07:57):
could make anyone feel comfortable. And good morning, Sear said,
walking back toward me, casually stuffing his hands into his pockets. Morning,
I said, standing up, but still falling a few inches
short of his height. I haven't been down to the
holding cells yet this morning. How'd Zach fair last night?
He was released into his father's custody around dinner time yesterday.
(08:17):
Sears said, he'll have a court arraignment coming up soon.
But the investigation isn't turning up a whole lot right now,
What do you mean? I asked? Seiars adjusted his stance
and continued, There was no robbery. He didn't break in,
and he didn't actually assault anyone. You stopped him before
that had a chance to transpire. We might get him
(08:39):
on an intimidation charge. He'll get a fine and an
official criminal record. But Sears shrugged without having anything else
to add. He still didn't say why he did what
he did. I asked, Sears chuckled. Get this. He claims
some other kid told him to do it to send
a message. I could feel my face contort. What kid?
(09:05):
Sears shrugged again. His father requested a lawyer before we
had a chance to get that nugget of information. That's
so we got. Unfortunately, but the parting wink, Lieutenant Sears
went on his way and left me with only more
questions than answers. I was going to have to call
Simon myself and pray he would want to tell me
something as a friend and off the record, because I
(09:27):
still couldn't fathom why Zack would do such a thing.
By mid morning, I was on patrol. The streets were
busy for their normal fifteen minute stretch, and once the
traffic had dispersed, I drove over to Anchor Street to
the Joe and Go Cafe. When I walked in, it
was slightly more crowded than it was when I burst
through the doors and arrested Zach the day before. A
(09:48):
couple of the booths were full and most of the
stools of the counter were occupied. I walked up to
the register, where the young, pink haired barista was cashing
out a customer. When it was my turn. She already
knew me. A tall black coffee and a crowller, she repeated,
as if it were second nature, and then rang it
up on the register. She'd offered many times to comp
(10:08):
my order, but the Joe inng was such a small,
family owned establishment that I wanted to make sure they
got every single penny that was coming to them. My
foster parents used to own a small bakery of their
own in Essex, so I knew the importance of each
and every penny. You know, I've never caught your name,
I said, pulling out my wallet as the total rang
up on the screen before me. Gwen, she said, moving
(10:31):
a strand of her pink hair away from her face.
She accepted the money and gave me my change. For
a minute, she hesitated looking back up at me, but
when she did, I could see she was either nervous
or curious to ask me something. There was a question
on the tip of her tongue, so I offered up
my friendliest smile to help encourage it to come loose.
(10:52):
And it did in a small, quiet and innocent voice.
Did that kid go to jail? She asked. There's an
ongoing investigation. I said, so, I can't really talk much
about it, but yes, he did go to jail. I
answered a question. Honestly, Zach did go to jail, but
Gwen didn't need to know that he'd already been released.
(11:15):
Did he say anything when he came in here yesterday?
I inquired? Gwen thought, for a moment, not a whole lot.
It was hard to hear him underneath the mask. His
voice was muffled. He demanded to see my dad, Carl,
he's the cook. He seemed angry. I don't know why.
I pointed to the kitchen, but when I did, he
pulled out that pipe or whatever it was and charged
(11:36):
back there. He was yelling and threatening my dad. That's
when I called the police. Is your dad here now,
I asked. Gwen shook her head. No. He took the
day off. He was a little rattled after what happened.
I bet another employee sat in my coffee and cruller
on the counter. I grabbed them and gave Gwen one
(11:57):
last friendly smile. I'm sorry he had to go through
that yesterday. We'll get this whole thing all sorted out.
Gwen smiled, but behind it I could sense dread. I
could tell she was just as unnerved as her father was.
And who would blame her an angry masked assailant invades
your place of employment with a tire iron and tries
to attack your dad. I would have been just as afraid.
(12:21):
I stepped away from the counter and was leaving the
Joe and Go just as Bridget Carr was walking through
the door, bundled up in an elegant winter coat, scarf around
her neck, and a hand knitted beanie on her head.
Meet you, she said, seemingly ecstatic to see me. Bridget, Hi,
I said, giving her a half hug and trying not
to spill my coffee or crush my donut bag. Day Tomiro,
(12:42):
she said, pulling away from me. The star of the
show will be here, bright and early. The tree, I
quickly concluded, laughing at her description of it. That's exciting.
I'm sure they'll have me directing the traffic again so
that thing can make it into town. Perfect, she said.
She looked at my coffee and doughnut and then laughed,
you are such a cop. Yeah, well, god to fit
(13:04):
the status quo, I said. Bridget placed a hand on
my arm and giggled, well till anakin the boys. I said, Hi.
She winked and continued toward the counter. That wasn't the
first time she'd placed a hand on me. That wasn't
even the first time she'd winked at me. She really
knew how to make a married man feel uncomfortable. I
(13:25):
barely made it into my cruiser when my phone rang.
It was Simon. Welch. I answered it as quickly as
I could. Simon, I answered with urgency. Matthew, he replied,
his voice sounding dejected and dim. Can you meet me
for lunch? Of course, I said. I glanced at the
clock on the dash. It was just about ten am.
Uh When and where I could take my break? At
(13:47):
eleven thirty at the fry Nest? He said, it's on
my route. I'll be there. I told him. There was
a brief, awkward silence on the line before Simon cleared
his throat to say goodbye. There was obvious embarrassed in
his voice, and I knew whatever he wanted to talk
to me about was going to be off the record.
As a sworn in police officer. It would be hard
to keep any of it to myself, but as a
(14:09):
friend to Simon for nearly ten years, it should be easy.
Just as we arranged on the phone, I met Simon
at the Frying Nest at eleven thirty. I parked my
Cruiser next to a USPS mail truck in the parking lot,
and unless another Marshport mail carrier was taking their break
at the Frying Nest as well, I knew the truck
belonged to Simon. He'd been with the Postal Service for
(14:31):
nearly twenty years, almost as long as I'd been with
law enforcement. The Frying Nest was a small burger, fries,
and milkshake kind of place that sat at the corner
of Lion Crest and Sorrento Street. It was decorated fully
for the Christmas season. Garland was strung around the windows,
glowing with tiny blue lights. Wreaths hung on every wall,
and classic Christmas music played softly over the speaker system,
(14:52):
once again taking me back to when I was a
kid and the holiday season was much more enjoyable. Simon
and I sat at a table near the back. He
didn't say a whole lot until the waitress brought our
food out to us. After the first bite of his burger,
he was ready to talk. I'm so ashamed by what
Zach did yesterday. Simon eventually said, I'm so sorry you
(15:14):
had to be the one to take him in like that.
I nodded, taking a bite of my food. I decided
that I would just let him talk and hear him
out before I interjected anything on my own. Simon continued,
You know Zach, You've known him for a long time.
That's not him, that's not his personality. Simon sat his
(15:36):
burger down. Zach told me some kid showed up at
the house yesterday morning before he left for school. The
kid told him he was a post to help send
a message. I finished chewing my bite and sat my
burger down as well. I was confused. Send a message
to the cook to Carl Martin. Simon shrugged. Do you
(15:57):
or Zach know Carl Well? Simon shook his head, only
by name, just from around town. We've never even spoken
to him. Who was that kid that came to the house,
I asked next. Simon shrugged. His eyes looked glassy, like
he'd been crying quite a bit over the last twenty
four hours. Zach insists that he doesn't know, he'd never
(16:19):
seen him before. Why would he trust some random kid
that he's never met before? I asked, starting to lose
my appetite. Something about the story wasn't making sense to me.
Simon shrugged again, and I was starting to grow slightly irritated,
not at Simon in particular, but at the situation. It
wasn't adding up. Was Zach able to describe the kid
(16:41):
at all? Could he give us any identifying features? I
inquired further. Simon took a small sip of a soda.
He said the kid was young, much younger than him,
maybe six or seven. Oh and he smelled like he'd
been sitting around a campfire all night. I sat back
in my seat. Why would Zack, a smart seventeen year
(17:04):
old high school student, trust anything a strange, unknown child
would tell him? Did Zach say what the kid was where?
We were interrupted by the sound of screeching tires outside.
It was so loud that it sounded like it was
actually inside the frying nest. Simon and I turned our
heads and looked out the closest window, just in time
to see a maroon minivan swerving out of control on
(17:26):
the street and slam headfirst into an oncoming car. Instinct
kicked in and I leaped out of my seat and
out the door through the lightly falling snow. I rushed
out into the road We're Onlookers were starting to gather
around the accident. The minivan was totaled, as was the
other car that had hit. Smoke billowed up from underneath
both vehicles hoods. I tried to look through the cracked
(17:47):
passenger window of a minivan. Someone was inside dressed in black,
and slumped over the wheel. Using my elbow and as
much force as I could muster, I shattered the window
in order to get a better look at the driver.
His black at time and white clerical caller was a
dead giveaway of his identity. It was past her Heart
or Russell from the local church. He was bleeding from
his forehead and appeared unconscious. I grabbed my shoulder mic
(18:11):
and radioed for paramedics and backup. I wasn't even done
with my request when I heard sirens blaring in the distance,
so it was obvious that someone else had also. Very
quickly decided to call a nine one one. I hurried
over to the next car The windows were also too
cracked to see through, so I yanked on the door handle.
The door made a horrible squealing noise as I forced
(18:32):
it open. An older woman was slumped over in the
driver's seat as well, also unconscious and bleeding from various places.
I felt for a pulse in her neck and was
quickly able to determine that she had one, although it
was very faint. I lifted her head slightly as to
not injure her further, and tried to communicate. Ma'am, can
you hear me? I asked with urgency. She responded with
(18:54):
imperceptible murmurs, but at least it was a response. Help
is on the way, I assured her just I backed
away from the car and looked at the maroon minivan,
where I could see Pastor Hart starting to move through
the cracked windshield. I felt relief that both parties were
still alive and began to breathe easy. But then my
breathing seemed to stop. Time seemed to stop. On the
(19:17):
cracked windshield of the minivan, I saw what could very
easily have been the catalyst for the accident to begin
with a cardinal reduced to a gooey, bloody mess was
splashed across the windshield. Blood and red feathers ornamented the
glass and hood of the van like some kind of
morbid children's art project. Red feathers I thought, I remembered
(19:41):
when I pulled her red feather out of the advent
calendar before work. I was convinced there was no way
it could lead to mayhem. I was wrong. When I
got home and Annika asked me how my day was,
I told her it was mostly uneventful. I didn't tell
her about the accident, the cardinal, the red feathers. I
(20:04):
didn't tell her about the strange circumstances that led to
Zach Welch committing his crime. I kept it all to myself.
I didn't want her to worry. I knew she would.
I was even starting to worry. There were too many
strange things starting to happen around town, and I didn't
have a single clue as to how to explain them. Sure,
maybe I was overreacting or overthinking things. It wouldn't have
(20:27):
been the first time, but it was all hard to
ignore when this many unordinary things started happening in a
very ordinary town like Marshport. I waited until Anika and
the kids were asleep before I slipped back downstairs to
observe the advent calendar again. At some point during the day,
Annika had moved it from the kitchen table to the
(20:48):
living room and propped it up on a small table
next to the fireplace. I approached the calendar, standing a
good two or three feet away from it, and examined it.
The first two doors had been opened and emptied of
their contents. The first one sheltered a small house that
resembled my childhood at home. That tiny house burned just
as the real one did. The second door revealed a
(21:11):
red feather, a cardinal feather, and during the day at work,
I just happened to be present for a near fatal
accident that was caused by a cardinal smashing into one
of the vehicle's windshields. It was hard not to take
it personally at this point, but I figured whatever was
hidden behind door number three could either make or break
my growing theory that this calendar was somehow meant for me.
(21:35):
I took a couple of steps forward and pinched the
small black handle on door number three, but when I
tried to open it, it wouldn't budge strange. I thought
I had no problem at all with the first two doors.
I tried pulling on it again. I tried turning the handle, nothing.
It looked off to my right. Next to our recliner
(21:57):
was anaka's basket of yarn and sewing needles. I grabbed
one of the needles and tried using it to shimmy
the third door open. That's when I felt a cold
rush of air behind me. I stopped what I was
doing and turned around to an empty tenebrous living room,
only dimly lit by our Christmas lights, but in the
shadows of the archway that led to the next room,
(22:17):
I saw the dark silhouette of a small child Mason.
I called out, my voice cracking. The silhouetted figure didn't respond,
didn't move. The familiar scent of something burning filled my
nostrils again. I was reminded of the past. I was
also reminded of what Simon had told me at lunch
about how Zack was approached by a small child that
(22:40):
stunk of a campfire. Who are you? I trembled, now,
gripping the knitting needle in a more defensive manner. The
silhouetted figure then raised an arm and pointed behind me
at the Advent calendar. In the same young, strained and
hoarse voice I had heard in our bedroom last night.
The figure spoke indolently at a time, follow the rules,
(23:04):
who are you? I repeated, only with more dominion. The
figure thrust his arm forward, enforcing its warning. I couldn't
help but notice tiny flecks of something black break away
from his arm and drift through the air. Follow the
rules and the consequences will be dire. I felt another
rush of cold air behind me, so I spun around
(23:24):
and was face to face with the advent calendar again.
When I turned back to address the shadowy intruder, he
was gone. My grasp on the knitting needle east and
a tense state in which my muscles had assumed began
to relax one day at a time. Follow the rules,
or the consequences will be dire. I wasn't sure what
(23:48):
the consequences would be for trying to open the next
door early, but after what I just encountered, I knew
that what I was dealing with was something out of
my control, something that I didn't understand, and, quite frankly,
something that was starting to frighten me. Thanks for listening.
(24:09):
If you like what you're hearing, please share it with
someone you know who loves scary stories at Christmas time.
If you like to read the full novel for yourself
in print, it's available in paperback, hardback, and kindle versions
at Weirddarkness dot com slash Advent of Evil. 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
(24:31):
celebrating Advent with me in the Weird Darkness
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