December 3, 2025 • 26 mins
When Officer Klein opens the third door and finds a crystal star inside, he begins noticing stars everywhere—on crests, in addresses, atop nativity scenes—and the mounting coincidences fill him with a creeping dread that something terrible is about to happen in Marshport… again.
Get the print version of the novel: https://weirddarkness.com/AdventOfEvil
#WeirdDarkness #ChristmasHorror #HolidayHorror #SupernaturalThriller #HauntedCalendar #DarkChristmas #HorrorStory #DemonicEvil #CreepyTales #YuletideTerror
Get the print version of the novel: https://weirddarkness.com/AdventOfEvil
#WeirdDarkness #ChristmasHorror #HolidayHorror #SupernaturalThriller #HauntedCalendar #DarkChristmas #HorrorStory #DemonicEvil #CreepyTales #YuletideTerror
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:02):
Officer Matthew Cleines. December began with chaos, arresting his best
friend's son for a violent attack at a local cafe,
then discovering a mysterious advent calendar on his doorstep with
no sender and no explanation. The antique wooden relic arrived,
wrapped in festive paper, its twenty four doors concealing unknown surprises,
(00:23):
and a carved bearded face with hollow eyes watching from
its center. When Matt's family opened the first door, they
found a miniature replica of his childhood home, a house
that burst into flames in his palm, just as the
real one had years ago. That night, a damaged voice
whispered through the darkness, calling out to someone named Uncle David.
(00:48):
The next day brought more unsettling connections. Behind door number
two was a red feather, seemingly harmless until a cardinal
smashed into Pastor Heart's windshield, causing a near fatal accident.
Matt learned that Zach Welch had been visited by a
strange young boy who smelled of smoke and convinced him
to commit his crime that night. When Matt tried to
(01:11):
open the third door early the same shadowy child appeared
in his living room with a warning, follow the rules
one day at a time, where the consequences will be dire.
The calendar wasn't just counting down to Christmas. It was
counting down to something far darker. Welcome Weirdos. I'm Darren
(02:09):
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 to Christmas, We'll unlock one chapter
(02:29):
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. Wednesday, December third, Follow the rules or the
(03:00):
consequences will be dire. The intruder's words danced around my
head for the next several hours, creating a first sleepless
night I'd had since Mason was in diapers. My body
didn't even act tired. It remained tense alert. I was
awaiting the shadowy Intruder's return, but he didn't come back.
(03:23):
When my three am alarm went off, I got right
out of bed and showered. I got dressed for work
and made coffee. I wasn't hungry, my stomach was still
too twisted. I paced around the kitchen, sipping my coffee
and eventually worked up the nerve to enter the living room.
For a moment, I stood in the same entry way
that the shadowy figure had been standing in. I wasn't
(03:46):
sure what I thought I could accomplish or understand by
doing this, but I was desperate. As I stood there,
I looked toward the fireplace. Off to the right was
the little table where the advent calendar had gotten comfortable.
I stared at it like it was the intruder, and
to a certain degree it was. It had shown up, unannounced, uninvited,
(04:10):
and made itself at home, disrupting the flow of our
lives with its eerie presence and haunting warnings. Follow the
rules being its latest demand. And if we didn't, if
I didn't, there would be consequences. My mind began to
track backwards, tracing these string of events that had taken
(04:32):
place since the calendar arrived. The shadowy intruder with the
campfire odor, the feather, the car crash, the burning house
trinket that made my subconscious uneasy, the haunting whisper as
I'd heard the first night in my bedroom, Uncle David,
can you hear us? The knot in my stomach twisted tighter,
(04:53):
like a vice grip around my organs, and I felt
like I was going to throw up. I stormed across
the room, sat my coffee up down on the table,
and opened the third door in the Advent calendar. I
reached in and pulled out the day's novelty. As I
looked at the object between my fingers, inspecting all five
of its sharp points, I exhaled in immediate defeat, because
(05:14):
if this were to signify something on a grander scale
for the day, it was going to be hard to
determine what exactly did it have something to do with
me my past? Was it going to conjure up another deep,
unnerving memory from that night, or was it going to
correlate with something or someone around town again, just as
(05:36):
the feather had yesterday, took a deep breath and let
it out slowly. Then I placed the small crystal star
trinket back into the nook and closed door number three.
At the station, I sat at a desk with a
steaming hot cup of black coffee. I turned on the
computer in front of me and did a Google search
for a Bayville house fire nineteen ninety five. The first
(06:00):
image that came up reignited the knots in my stomach,
which had faded some since I'd been at work. I
saw the charred, skeletal remains of my childhood home. I
could feel my heart rate increase and my breaths coming
quick short huffs. The longer I stared at the image,
I closed my eyes and was immediately back there. I
(06:20):
felt the icy winds outside, the wet snow slipping into
my boots and saturating my socks as I ran for
the neighbor's house. I felt the intense heat behind me,
the roaring flames chasing me like monsters trying to escape
from hell. I could hear the screaming behind me, and
the exact moment they stopped. My radio burst to life
(06:40):
with a blast of static, and I was happy it did.
I was not ready to fall that deep into the past.
The dispatcher's voice crackled over the radio. You'd at thirteen,
she said, your presence is being requested. I clicked out
of the Google search and responded this as you're at thirteen.
Who's requesting it? Bridgie Carr? She says, the truck is
(07:02):
fifteen minutes out. Copy, I said. I drove my patrol
car just outside the Marshport city limits and parked off
a long stretch of road that cut through a thick,
lush pine tree forest. The light snowfall came with the
morning daylight, coating the road with a thin dusting and
layering the tree tops as if they had been sifted
(07:23):
by a powdered sugar. Even with the heat filtering through
the car's vents and all of them angled directly at me,
I was still cold. I took a sip of coffee
and let the warm liquid travel down my body, hoping
that would help from the inside while the vents worked
the outside. But it didn't. I felt off, my mind
consumed by the advent calendar at home and the meaning
(07:46):
behind it. The spectral appearance of the young child swathed
in shadows in my home could have easily been explained
away as my subconscious I was, of course, if zach
Welch hadn't also claimed to have spoken to a child
who stunk of fire. The house trinket behind door number
one was ominous. It was an exact replica of my
(08:08):
childhood home. Both went up in flames. Door number two
gave me a red feather, which set the stage of
a near fatal car accident caused by a cardinal hitting
the windshield of a pastor of all people. Now, I
wondered about the small crystal star from behind today's tiny,
unassuming door. A star was such a common thing and
(08:31):
often used shape and could be found and seen almost anywhere.
They were used in rating systems, decorations, tattoos, flags, not
to mention real stars or anything from space for that matter.
If the calendar wanted to stick with its apparent theme
of fire and smoke, Marshpoard could become ground zero for
(08:53):
a shooting star, impact, a comet, meteor, or asteroid. None
of those would be ideal. I looked up into the
rear view mirror when I noticed a pair of headlights
breaking through the falling snow behind me. It didn't take
long to recognize it as bridget Car's gold suv. It
came to a stop behind my patrol car. Once her
(09:14):
headlights were off, I pulled on my beanie with the
words Marshport Police, embroidered across the front and climbed out
of the car. I met Bridget closer to her vehicle.
She was bungled up and shivering, batting away the snowflakes
from her eyes with their long lashes. She smiled, her
cheeks either blushing or just cold. Either one was just
as plausible as the other. Good Morning, Matthew, she said, Morning,
(09:38):
I said back, refraining from returning her smile. I wasn't
in the mood, and I definitely didn't want to give
her the wrong idea, after the way she had touched
my arm at the Joe and Go cafell. What brings
you out here? I just wanted to make sure the
roads were going to be passable, she said. I think
we're supposed to get a couple of inches this morning.
Bridget leaned to one side and looked past me. I
(10:01):
turned and looked along with her. It's a record height
this year for us, she said, nearly thirty feet the tree. Impressive.
I said, the flatbed trailer is being escorted by a
state trooper. Ridget added, I heard, I said, I'll relieve
the trooper once it gets to this point and lead
the trailer the rest of the way. A couple officers
should be blocking some roads near the town center as
(10:23):
we speak. I appreciate you coming out here to help
as always. I know Christmas isn't really your thing. I nodded,
but didn't verbally respond. That was one thing that Bridget
knew about me that not many others did. She knew
my distaste for the holiday. Sure, Annika knew I wasn't
crazy about it, but I had shared a true, deep
(10:45):
hatred for it when I first met Bridget all those
years ago, during our time together at the police Academy.
Come to think of it, i'd shared quite a bit
with her. Back then. I was young and hadn't yet
learned how to compartmentalize my feelings and angst. At that point,
I was going through a lot. I was recently freed
from my foster parents' care, trying to start my new
(11:07):
life in a new town, and trying desperately to forget
that horrible night when I was ten years old. But
the academy was twenty years ago, So how much of one?
I told bridget Well, I wasn't sure how much she
would recall. I looked at her again, a little curious
about what she would remember. Do you remember when I
(11:29):
told you happened to me when I was a kid?
I asked her. Bridget's smile faded and she pondered by question.
But quickly she came to a dead end and laughed,
if you're talking about when we used to run around
during our academy days, I mean, well, there was a
lot of beer involved. She was right about that. Maybe
the heavy alcohol consumption would work in my favor and
(11:51):
keep anything I told her hidden away. You said your
house caught on fire, right, Bridgett then added, to my surprise,
I sighed, so much for the twenty year hangover? Yeah,
I said, when I was ten. That's right, she said,
But it was somewhere else, right, not here in Maine.
(12:11):
Was it New York? I nodded again. Bayville, she asked.
Things kept coming back to her, and that wasn't good.
She knew too much. I didn't want any of that
to come out here in Marshport. Anika knew the bare
bones of my past, a tragedy that I dared not
speak of, landed me in a foster home until I
(12:31):
was of legal age, and then moved here to Marshport
to start my adult life. I chose not to answer Bridget.
I chose not to confirm her haunch that Bayville, New
York was my birthplace. Instead, I turned back around and
looked up the road that cut through the trees, and
like a saving grace, I could see the faint glow
of spinning blue lights through the falling snow. Hey, I
(12:53):
think the trees arrived, I said, standing further off to
the side of the road. Bridget jumped up and down
with glee, giggling and squealing like a schoolgirl who was
just invited to the dance. This was her season, This
was her time to shine. The tractor trailer was behind
the incoming state trooper vehicle. As the trooper's car came
(13:14):
to a stop near ours, the tractor trailer also halted,
momentarily releasing a loud hiss of compressed air from its brakes.
The trooper rolled down his window and I saw a
middle aged man wearing a steel blue uniform an unzipped
black jacket over top of it and dotting a stiff
campaign hat upon his head, did somewhat order a tree,
the trooper bantered. I stepped out of the way and
(13:36):
let Bridget take credit for the large tree laying on
the flatbed of the truck. They spoke with each other
briefly before the trooper returned his attention to me. It's
all you from here, my guy, he said, A folly
into Marshport, though I haven't eaten yet this morning, and
I'm not sure I'll make the drive back without something
hardy in my stomach. The breakfast bistro, I suggested, it's
(13:57):
near the town center. You will find better bacon an
egg sandwiches anywhere else in New England. I'm going to
hold you to that, officer, the trooper said, with a
friendly tip of his hat. I gave the trooper a
half salute and turned to walk back to my patrol car.
But as I did, something caught my eye. It was
the crest of the side of his vehicle. It was
(14:18):
the scene design that was front and center on the
main state flag. It was all there, the heraldic shield,
the moose, the pine tree, a farmer and a seaman
on either side. The state motto Durago was bannered just
above the shield and nestled at the bottom of a star.
(14:39):
I spent the next hour and a half helping the
truck make it to the center of town. Once it
was parked along Stone Shore Avenue, the team that Bridget
had assembled went to work unloading the tree. I remained
in the area, helping a couple of other officers with
some makeshift traffic patterns to help keep all the congestion
to a minimum. And all the while I couldn't stop
thinking about the star, the star in the Advent calendar,
(15:02):
and now the star that came into town. The same
morning that door number three was opened, the state trooper
took up my suggestion of eating at the breakfast bistro.
It was within eyesight of where I had taken up
my position. Every time I looked over at it, my
eyes landed directly on the star at the top of
the crest, just above the state motto durago. Durago is
(15:26):
Latin for I lead, which was curiously fitting because of
how the trooper had literally led the tree into Marsport.
But unless I was severely overthinking the situation, it was
hard not to shake the coincidence. At this point, based
on the past couple of days, I should have had
every reason in the world to be leery of whatever
I pulled out of the advent calendar. And now the
(15:47):
day I was supposed to be distrustful of a star,
a star comes to town. To me, it was too
much of a concurrence. That's why I was barely able
to remove my eyes. The trooper's car parked in the
Breakfast Bestros parking lot across the way. I could see
the trooper inside through one of the restaurant's windows. He
(16:08):
was sitting at a table eating when I assumed was
the bacon and egg sandwich I proposed I was waiting
for something to happen. Did the star represent the trooper himself?
Was he going to choke burn the restaurant down, down
a lion's mask and attacked the kitchen crew with a
tire iron or worse, his service weapon. Or was I
(16:29):
completely wrong and just wanting to sound the alarm on everything.
A car squealed behind me, and the driver angrily laid
on his horn. I instinctively spun around, expecting to see
another car accident, but instead I saw a small yellow
car sliding to a stop as someone in a dark
hooded sweatshirt dashed across the street through traffic. Hey, I shouted.
(16:51):
The hooded individual stopped on the other side of the street,
along one of the edges of the town center. They
removed their hood and looked back at me. He was
a young man that I read recognized from somewhere around town,
but couldn't place his name or where I'd known him from.
While the yellow car was still stopped, I hurried across
the street. What are you doing. You could have gotten
hurt or hurt someone else, I scolded him. The young
(17:14):
man looked ashamed, but quickly put on a brave face.
You were doing your job, he said. You were staring
off into space. I needed to get over here, and
there was no lull in traffic or cop to help
me across. I wasn't staring into space, I said to
him with annoyance. I glanced back at the breakfast beast row.
The trooper's car was still there. I turned back to
(17:35):
the young man. Could I see your ID please? He
just looked at me. I don't have to do that.
People like this were everywhere, always looking to set us
straight and proudly exercise their rights. I sighed loudly, No,
you don't, but if you do, it'll make my life
a whole lot easier. The young man gawked at me
(17:56):
a moment longer, and then must have sensed the surging
unease inside of me. He shook his head and pulled
out his wallet, handing me his driver's license. Mike Campbell.
I read his name out loud, and then remembered him
as one of the employees from the bowling Alley. I
looked at his address next. You still live at twenty
(18:16):
three to twenty three star I stopped. My words were
caught in my throat as my eyes scanned his address,
twenty three twenty three Starfield Street. I looked up at Mike.
You still live on Starfield, I asked. Mike nodded yeah.
With my wife, I handed him his license back. You
(18:39):
could have grabbed my attention instead of jaywalking, I said,
be more careful next time. Mike nodded yes, sir. He
started to walk away toward the area where the nearly
thirty foot tree was being erected with wires and cranes.
Be careful, I called out to him again, but not
referring to the jaywalking. He only lifted his arm and
(18:59):
waved as he he kept walking. I felt uneasy in
my own skin. Everything was starting to feel like a
movie or a dream. The snow was falling harder, now,
swirling around me in the increasing winds and stinging the
exposed skin on my face. I brushed some of the
icy flakes off my facial scruff and turned back to
the breakfast beast row. The trooper was walking out to
(19:21):
his vehicle. My muscles tightened and I bit my lip
as I watched him get into his car, start the engine,
and then pull out into traffic. I kept my eyes
on him as long as I could, but eventually lost
sight of him as he made his way out of Marshpoort.
I took a deep breath and hoped that since the
trooper was gone, any threat that would have been associated
(19:41):
with him had disappeared up the road as well. When
I got home, I took a hot shower to loosen
my muscles and warm up from being out in the
elements all day. I dressed in a pair of loose
pants and a hooded sweatshirt and made my way downstairs
to where Anika was on the phone in the kitchen
sounded like she was talking to her mother, so I
wandered back into the living room, where she had the
(20:03):
fireplace roaring. I sat down in the recliner next to
the fireplace and refused to look up at the Advent
calendar sitting only a few feet away. On my phone,
I googled a meaning of the star symbol. I read
things about stars being an early symbol of guidance and
how they represented divine power. That didn't seem to help
(20:23):
me understand it any further. Next, I looked up the
meaning of a feather, which were apparently powerful conduits for
prayer healing and also represented divine power prayer. I thought,
was it another coincidence at the feather and the pastor's
accident were connected. Finally, I looked up Advent calendars and
(20:45):
what they symbolized, a four week countdown basically until the
arrival of Christ. I wasn't much of a religious person,
so I didn't put a lot of merit into this. Anika,
although not a deeply religious person herself, did make it
a point to cut to church services every Sunday in December.
It was a part of her childhood and something she
(21:06):
wanted to continue with her own family. I glanced up
at the calendar and then to the little nativity scene
Anika had set up on the opposite side of the fireplace.
Baby Jesus was in his manger, surrounded by Mother Mary,
Father Joseph, and the three wise men. Affixed on top
of the barn where they were all sheltered in it
was a metal star of Bethlehem. I jumped up from
(21:30):
the chair and examined the Nativity scene. Another star, I thought,
just great. I turned to the advent calendar and opened
door number three again. I reached in and pulled out
the small crystal star. My heart dropped immediately. The once clean,
clear crystal star now appeared to have each of its
five tips dipped in something red blood. I touched the
(21:53):
red liquid, getting a little bit of it on my finger,
and then smelled it. The odor was metallic, iron like,
smell like blood. I wasn't sure what to make of it.
With the star still in my hand, I rushed into
the kitchen, where Anika was still on the phone. She
must have seen the concerned look on my face because
she told her mother to hold on a second, and
(22:13):
she sat the phone down What is it? What's wrong?
Annika asked. I held out my palm, showing her the
blood tipped crystal star. How did this happen? I asked her,
Panics starting to build. Annika stood up and inspected the star.
She looked just as confused. What is that paint? It's blood,
I said. My head started to spin. Where are the kids?
(22:37):
Are either of them hurt? Annika looked at me and
placed a concerned hand on my arm. Why are you panicking?
The kids are fine. They should be on their way
home from school any minute now. I raced through the
house and into the living room, where I ripped the
curtains apart and looked out into the snowy world beyond
our house. I could hear Annik I get back on
the phone and tell her mother that she'll call her
(22:57):
back later. Then she appeared in the archway the living room,
in the same exact spot that mysterious shadowy child had stood. Matthew,
you're scaring me a little bit, Anika said, crossing her
arms as if she had suffered a full body chill.
I wasn't sure what to say to her. I wasn't
sure how to explain the fears I was having and
(23:17):
extreme worry that something horrible was going to happen involving
a star in some way, shape or form. I turned
away from the window and faced Anika held out the
blood tipped star so she could see it again. I
think I began, not sure exactly what to say the star.
I tried again. This star means that I was interrupted
(23:42):
by a sharp clunking noise. Our attention was drawn to
the nativity scene near the fireplace. The small metal star
of Bethlehem had fallen off and knocked over the tiny
baby Jesus. Well, that's never a good sign. Anika half joked,
but I wasn't laughing. The creeping dread of something being
wrong only swirled more profoundly inside of me, like a
(24:02):
storm about to unleash, a frenzy braun that I wasn't
prepared for. And just then my cell phone rang. I
pulled it from my pocket and saw Lieutenant Sear's name
buzzing on the screen. A lieutenant, I answered, Matthew, I'm
sorry to bother you at home. Look, is there any
chance you can come back in for a couple of hours.
There's been an accident and we could use the extra
(24:23):
manpower an accident. Oh what happened where? I rapidly asked
my entire body, releasing an alarming rush of adrenaline. I
arrived on scene less than ten minutes later in my
personal car, but redressed in my uniform. The snow was
coming down hard, creating a very christmasy setting at the
(24:44):
town center square. The nearly thirty foot tall tree stood
upright and was wrapped in large, blinking, multi colored bulbs
at the base of the tree. However, the joyful Christmas
display had been disrupted by the accident. Lieutenant Sears filled
me in over the phone, told me what to expect,
warned me about what I was going to be seeing.
(25:05):
But no amount of preparedness was ever enough to see
what I was now looking at, especially when it happened
to someone I knew very well. I walked up to
the base of the tree, ducked under the police tape,
and joined Lieutenant Sears and another patrol officer and friend,
Lewis Chambers. Sears nodded at me sympathetically. I'm sorry, he said.
(25:30):
I didn't respond. Instead, I walked up a little further
to where the body lay in the snow. The giant
star that should have been the finishing touch at the
top of the tree was instead embedded into bridget Car's skull.
Thanks for listening. If you like what you're hearing, please
(25:50):
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.
(26:11):
Thanks for celebrating Advent with me in the Weird Darkness.
Officer Matthew Cleines. December began with chaos, arresting his best
friend's son for a violent attack at a local cafe,
then discovering a mysterious advent calendar on his doorstep with
no sender and no explanation. The antique wooden relic arrived,
wrapped in festive paper, its twenty four doors concealing unknown surprises,
(00:23):
and a carved bearded face with hollow eyes watching from
its center. When Matt's family opened the first door, they
found a miniature replica of his childhood home, a house
that burst into flames in his palm, just as the
real one had years ago. That night, a damaged voice
whispered through the darkness, calling out to someone named Uncle David.
(00:48):
The next day brought more unsettling connections. Behind door number
two was a red feather, seemingly harmless until a cardinal
smashed into Pastor Heart's windshield, causing a near fatal accident.
Matt learned that Zach Welch had been visited by a
strange young boy who smelled of smoke and convinced him
to commit his crime that night. When Matt tried to
(01:11):
open the third door early the same shadowy child appeared
in his living room with a warning, follow the rules
one day at a time, where the consequences will be dire.
The calendar wasn't just counting down to Christmas. It was
counting down to something far darker. Welcome Weirdos. I'm Darren
(02:09):
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 to Christmas, We'll unlock one chapter
(02:29):
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. Wednesday, December third, Follow the rules or the
(03:00):
consequences will be dire. The intruder's words danced around my
head for the next several hours, creating a first sleepless
night I'd had since Mason was in diapers. My body
didn't even act tired. It remained tense alert. I was
awaiting the shadowy Intruder's return, but he didn't come back.
(03:23):
When my three am alarm went off, I got right
out of bed and showered. I got dressed for work
and made coffee. I wasn't hungry, my stomach was still
too twisted. I paced around the kitchen, sipping my coffee
and eventually worked up the nerve to enter the living room.
For a moment, I stood in the same entry way
that the shadowy figure had been standing in. I wasn't
(03:46):
sure what I thought I could accomplish or understand by
doing this, but I was desperate. As I stood there,
I looked toward the fireplace. Off to the right was
the little table where the advent calendar had gotten comfortable.
I stared at it like it was the intruder, and
to a certain degree it was. It had shown up, unannounced, uninvited,
(04:10):
and made itself at home, disrupting the flow of our
lives with its eerie presence and haunting warnings. Follow the
rules being its latest demand. And if we didn't, if
I didn't, there would be consequences. My mind began to
track backwards, tracing these string of events that had taken
(04:32):
place since the calendar arrived. The shadowy intruder with the
campfire odor, the feather, the car crash, the burning house
trinket that made my subconscious uneasy, the haunting whisper as
I'd heard the first night in my bedroom, Uncle David,
can you hear us? The knot in my stomach twisted tighter,
(04:53):
like a vice grip around my organs, and I felt
like I was going to throw up. I stormed across
the room, sat my coffee up down on the table,
and opened the third door in the Advent calendar. I
reached in and pulled out the day's novelty. As I
looked at the object between my fingers, inspecting all five
of its sharp points, I exhaled in immediate defeat, because
(05:14):
if this were to signify something on a grander scale
for the day, it was going to be hard to
determine what exactly did it have something to do with
me my past? Was it going to conjure up another deep,
unnerving memory from that night, or was it going to
correlate with something or someone around town again, just as
(05:36):
the feather had yesterday, took a deep breath and let
it out slowly. Then I placed the small crystal star
trinket back into the nook and closed door number three.
At the station, I sat at a desk with a
steaming hot cup of black coffee. I turned on the
computer in front of me and did a Google search
for a Bayville house fire nineteen ninety five. The first
(06:00):
image that came up reignited the knots in my stomach,
which had faded some since I'd been at work. I
saw the charred, skeletal remains of my childhood home. I
could feel my heart rate increase and my breaths coming
quick short huffs. The longer I stared at the image,
I closed my eyes and was immediately back there. I
(06:20):
felt the icy winds outside, the wet snow slipping into
my boots and saturating my socks as I ran for
the neighbor's house. I felt the intense heat behind me,
the roaring flames chasing me like monsters trying to escape
from hell. I could hear the screaming behind me, and
the exact moment they stopped. My radio burst to life
(06:40):
with a blast of static, and I was happy it did.
I was not ready to fall that deep into the past.
The dispatcher's voice crackled over the radio. You'd at thirteen,
she said, your presence is being requested. I clicked out
of the Google search and responded this as you're at thirteen.
Who's requesting it? Bridgie Carr? She says, the truck is
(07:02):
fifteen minutes out. Copy, I said. I drove my patrol
car just outside the Marshport city limits and parked off
a long stretch of road that cut through a thick,
lush pine tree forest. The light snowfall came with the
morning daylight, coating the road with a thin dusting and
layering the tree tops as if they had been sifted
(07:23):
by a powdered sugar. Even with the heat filtering through
the car's vents and all of them angled directly at me,
I was still cold. I took a sip of coffee
and let the warm liquid travel down my body, hoping
that would help from the inside while the vents worked
the outside. But it didn't. I felt off, my mind
consumed by the advent calendar at home and the meaning
(07:46):
behind it. The spectral appearance of the young child swathed
in shadows in my home could have easily been explained
away as my subconscious I was, of course, if zach
Welch hadn't also claimed to have spoken to a child
who stunk of fire. The house trinket behind door number
one was ominous. It was an exact replica of my
(08:08):
childhood home. Both went up in flames. Door number two
gave me a red feather, which set the stage of
a near fatal car accident caused by a cardinal hitting
the windshield of a pastor of all people. Now, I
wondered about the small crystal star from behind today's tiny,
unassuming door. A star was such a common thing and
(08:31):
often used shape and could be found and seen almost anywhere.
They were used in rating systems, decorations, tattoos, flags, not
to mention real stars or anything from space for that matter.
If the calendar wanted to stick with its apparent theme
of fire and smoke, Marshpoard could become ground zero for
(08:53):
a shooting star, impact, a comet, meteor, or asteroid. None
of those would be ideal. I looked up into the
rear view mirror when I noticed a pair of headlights
breaking through the falling snow behind me. It didn't take
long to recognize it as bridget Car's gold suv. It
came to a stop behind my patrol car. Once her
(09:14):
headlights were off, I pulled on my beanie with the
words Marshport Police, embroidered across the front and climbed out
of the car. I met Bridget closer to her vehicle.
She was bungled up and shivering, batting away the snowflakes
from her eyes with their long lashes. She smiled, her
cheeks either blushing or just cold. Either one was just
as plausible as the other. Good Morning, Matthew, she said, Morning,
(09:38):
I said back, refraining from returning her smile. I wasn't
in the mood, and I definitely didn't want to give
her the wrong idea, after the way she had touched
my arm at the Joe and Go cafell. What brings
you out here? I just wanted to make sure the
roads were going to be passable, she said. I think
we're supposed to get a couple of inches this morning.
Bridget leaned to one side and looked past me. I
(10:01):
turned and looked along with her. It's a record height
this year for us, she said, nearly thirty feet the tree. Impressive.
I said, the flatbed trailer is being escorted by a
state trooper. Ridget added, I heard, I said, I'll relieve
the trooper once it gets to this point and lead
the trailer the rest of the way. A couple officers
should be blocking some roads near the town center as
(10:23):
we speak. I appreciate you coming out here to help
as always. I know Christmas isn't really your thing. I nodded,
but didn't verbally respond. That was one thing that Bridget
knew about me that not many others did. She knew
my distaste for the holiday. Sure, Annika knew I wasn't
crazy about it, but I had shared a true, deep
(10:45):
hatred for it when I first met Bridget all those
years ago, during our time together at the police Academy.
Come to think of it, i'd shared quite a bit
with her. Back then. I was young and hadn't yet
learned how to compartmentalize my feelings and angst. At that point,
I was going through a lot. I was recently freed
from my foster parents' care, trying to start my new
(11:07):
life in a new town, and trying desperately to forget
that horrible night when I was ten years old. But
the academy was twenty years ago, So how much of one?
I told bridget Well, I wasn't sure how much she
would recall. I looked at her again, a little curious
about what she would remember. Do you remember when I
(11:29):
told you happened to me when I was a kid?
I asked her. Bridget's smile faded and she pondered by question.
But quickly she came to a dead end and laughed,
if you're talking about when we used to run around
during our academy days, I mean, well, there was a
lot of beer involved. She was right about that. Maybe
the heavy alcohol consumption would work in my favor and
(11:51):
keep anything I told her hidden away. You said your
house caught on fire, right, Bridgett then added, to my surprise,
I sighed, so much for the twenty year hangover? Yeah,
I said, when I was ten. That's right, she said,
But it was somewhere else, right, not here in Maine.
(12:11):
Was it New York? I nodded again. Bayville, she asked.
Things kept coming back to her, and that wasn't good.
She knew too much. I didn't want any of that
to come out here in Marshport. Anika knew the bare
bones of my past, a tragedy that I dared not
speak of, landed me in a foster home until I
(12:31):
was of legal age, and then moved here to Marshport
to start my adult life. I chose not to answer Bridget.
I chose not to confirm her haunch that Bayville, New
York was my birthplace. Instead, I turned back around and
looked up the road that cut through the trees, and
like a saving grace, I could see the faint glow
of spinning blue lights through the falling snow. Hey, I
(12:53):
think the trees arrived, I said, standing further off to
the side of the road. Bridget jumped up and down
with glee, giggling and squealing like a schoolgirl who was
just invited to the dance. This was her season, This
was her time to shine. The tractor trailer was behind
the incoming state trooper vehicle. As the trooper's car came
(13:14):
to a stop near ours, the tractor trailer also halted,
momentarily releasing a loud hiss of compressed air from its brakes.
The trooper rolled down his window and I saw a
middle aged man wearing a steel blue uniform an unzipped
black jacket over top of it and dotting a stiff
campaign hat upon his head, did somewhat order a tree,
the trooper bantered. I stepped out of the way and
(13:36):
let Bridget take credit for the large tree laying on
the flatbed of the truck. They spoke with each other
briefly before the trooper returned his attention to me. It's
all you from here, my guy, he said, A folly
into Marshport, though I haven't eaten yet this morning, and
I'm not sure I'll make the drive back without something
hardy in my stomach. The breakfast bistro, I suggested, it's
(13:57):
near the town center. You will find better bacon an
egg sandwiches anywhere else in New England. I'm going to
hold you to that, officer, the trooper said, with a
friendly tip of his hat. I gave the trooper a
half salute and turned to walk back to my patrol car.
But as I did, something caught my eye. It was
the crest of the side of his vehicle. It was
(14:18):
the scene design that was front and center on the
main state flag. It was all there, the heraldic shield,
the moose, the pine tree, a farmer and a seaman
on either side. The state motto Durago was bannered just
above the shield and nestled at the bottom of a star.
(14:39):
I spent the next hour and a half helping the
truck make it to the center of town. Once it
was parked along Stone Shore Avenue, the team that Bridget
had assembled went to work unloading the tree. I remained
in the area, helping a couple of other officers with
some makeshift traffic patterns to help keep all the congestion
to a minimum. And all the while I couldn't stop
thinking about the star, the star in the Advent calendar,
(15:02):
and now the star that came into town. The same
morning that door number three was opened, the state trooper
took up my suggestion of eating at the breakfast bistro.
It was within eyesight of where I had taken up
my position. Every time I looked over at it, my
eyes landed directly on the star at the top of
the crest, just above the state motto durago. Durago is
(15:26):
Latin for I lead, which was curiously fitting because of
how the trooper had literally led the tree into Marsport.
But unless I was severely overthinking the situation, it was
hard not to shake the coincidence. At this point, based
on the past couple of days, I should have had
every reason in the world to be leery of whatever
I pulled out of the advent calendar. And now the
(15:47):
day I was supposed to be distrustful of a star,
a star comes to town. To me, it was too
much of a concurrence. That's why I was barely able
to remove my eyes. The trooper's car parked in the
Breakfast Bestros parking lot across the way. I could see
the trooper inside through one of the restaurant's windows. He
(16:08):
was sitting at a table eating when I assumed was
the bacon and egg sandwich I proposed I was waiting
for something to happen. Did the star represent the trooper himself?
Was he going to choke burn the restaurant down, down
a lion's mask and attacked the kitchen crew with a
tire iron or worse, his service weapon. Or was I
(16:29):
completely wrong and just wanting to sound the alarm on everything.
A car squealed behind me, and the driver angrily laid
on his horn. I instinctively spun around, expecting to see
another car accident, but instead I saw a small yellow
car sliding to a stop as someone in a dark
hooded sweatshirt dashed across the street through traffic. Hey, I shouted.
(16:51):
The hooded individual stopped on the other side of the street,
along one of the edges of the town center. They
removed their hood and looked back at me. He was
a young man that I read recognized from somewhere around town,
but couldn't place his name or where I'd known him from.
While the yellow car was still stopped, I hurried across
the street. What are you doing. You could have gotten
hurt or hurt someone else, I scolded him. The young
(17:14):
man looked ashamed, but quickly put on a brave face.
You were doing your job, he said. You were staring
off into space. I needed to get over here, and
there was no lull in traffic or cop to help
me across. I wasn't staring into space, I said to
him with annoyance. I glanced back at the breakfast beast row.
The trooper's car was still there. I turned back to
(17:35):
the young man. Could I see your ID please? He
just looked at me. I don't have to do that.
People like this were everywhere, always looking to set us
straight and proudly exercise their rights. I sighed loudly, No,
you don't, but if you do, it'll make my life
a whole lot easier. The young man gawked at me
(17:56):
a moment longer, and then must have sensed the surging
unease inside of me. He shook his head and pulled
out his wallet, handing me his driver's license. Mike Campbell.
I read his name out loud, and then remembered him
as one of the employees from the bowling Alley. I
looked at his address next. You still live at twenty
(18:16):
three to twenty three star I stopped. My words were
caught in my throat as my eyes scanned his address,
twenty three twenty three Starfield Street. I looked up at Mike.
You still live on Starfield, I asked. Mike nodded yeah.
With my wife, I handed him his license back. You
(18:39):
could have grabbed my attention instead of jaywalking, I said,
be more careful next time. Mike nodded yes, sir. He
started to walk away toward the area where the nearly
thirty foot tree was being erected with wires and cranes.
Be careful, I called out to him again, but not
referring to the jaywalking. He only lifted his arm and
(18:59):
waved as he he kept walking. I felt uneasy in
my own skin. Everything was starting to feel like a
movie or a dream. The snow was falling harder, now,
swirling around me in the increasing winds and stinging the
exposed skin on my face. I brushed some of the
icy flakes off my facial scruff and turned back to
the breakfast beast row. The trooper was walking out to
(19:21):
his vehicle. My muscles tightened and I bit my lip
as I watched him get into his car, start the engine,
and then pull out into traffic. I kept my eyes
on him as long as I could, but eventually lost
sight of him as he made his way out of Marshpoort.
I took a deep breath and hoped that since the
trooper was gone, any threat that would have been associated
(19:41):
with him had disappeared up the road as well. When
I got home, I took a hot shower to loosen
my muscles and warm up from being out in the
elements all day. I dressed in a pair of loose
pants and a hooded sweatshirt and made my way downstairs
to where Anika was on the phone in the kitchen
sounded like she was talking to her mother, so I
wandered back into the living room, where she had the
(20:03):
fireplace roaring. I sat down in the recliner next to
the fireplace and refused to look up at the Advent
calendar sitting only a few feet away. On my phone,
I googled a meaning of the star symbol. I read
things about stars being an early symbol of guidance and
how they represented divine power. That didn't seem to help
(20:23):
me understand it any further. Next, I looked up the
meaning of a feather, which were apparently powerful conduits for
prayer healing and also represented divine power prayer. I thought,
was it another coincidence at the feather and the pastor's
accident were connected. Finally, I looked up Advent calendars and
(20:45):
what they symbolized, a four week countdown basically until the
arrival of Christ. I wasn't much of a religious person,
so I didn't put a lot of merit into this. Anika,
although not a deeply religious person herself, did make it
a point to cut to church services every Sunday in December.
It was a part of her childhood and something she
(21:06):
wanted to continue with her own family. I glanced up
at the calendar and then to the little nativity scene
Anika had set up on the opposite side of the fireplace.
Baby Jesus was in his manger, surrounded by Mother Mary,
Father Joseph, and the three wise men. Affixed on top
of the barn where they were all sheltered in it
was a metal star of Bethlehem. I jumped up from
(21:30):
the chair and examined the Nativity scene. Another star, I thought,
just great. I turned to the advent calendar and opened
door number three again. I reached in and pulled out
the small crystal star. My heart dropped immediately. The once clean,
clear crystal star now appeared to have each of its
five tips dipped in something red blood. I touched the
(21:53):
red liquid, getting a little bit of it on my finger,
and then smelled it. The odor was metallic, iron like,
smell like blood. I wasn't sure what to make of it.
With the star still in my hand, I rushed into
the kitchen, where Anika was still on the phone. She
must have seen the concerned look on my face because
she told her mother to hold on a second, and
(22:13):
she sat the phone down What is it? What's wrong?
Annika asked. I held out my palm, showing her the
blood tipped crystal star. How did this happen? I asked her,
Panics starting to build. Annika stood up and inspected the star.
She looked just as confused. What is that paint? It's blood,
I said. My head started to spin. Where are the kids?
(22:37):
Are either of them hurt? Annika looked at me and
placed a concerned hand on my arm. Why are you panicking?
The kids are fine. They should be on their way
home from school any minute now. I raced through the
house and into the living room, where I ripped the
curtains apart and looked out into the snowy world beyond
our house. I could hear Annik I get back on
the phone and tell her mother that she'll call her
(22:57):
back later. Then she appeared in the archway the living room,
in the same exact spot that mysterious shadowy child had stood. Matthew,
you're scaring me a little bit, Anika said, crossing her
arms as if she had suffered a full body chill.
I wasn't sure what to say to her. I wasn't
sure how to explain the fears I was having and
(23:17):
extreme worry that something horrible was going to happen involving
a star in some way, shape or form. I turned
away from the window and faced Anika held out the
blood tipped star so she could see it again. I
think I began, not sure exactly what to say the star.
I tried again. This star means that I was interrupted
(23:42):
by a sharp clunking noise. Our attention was drawn to
the nativity scene near the fireplace. The small metal star
of Bethlehem had fallen off and knocked over the tiny
baby Jesus. Well, that's never a good sign. Anika half joked,
but I wasn't laughing. The creeping dread of something being
wrong only swirled more profoundly inside of me, like a
(24:02):
storm about to unleash, a frenzy braun that I wasn't
prepared for. And just then my cell phone rang. I
pulled it from my pocket and saw Lieutenant Sear's name
buzzing on the screen. A lieutenant, I answered, Matthew, I'm
sorry to bother you at home. Look, is there any
chance you can come back in for a couple of hours.
There's been an accident and we could use the extra
(24:23):
manpower an accident. Oh what happened where? I rapidly asked
my entire body, releasing an alarming rush of adrenaline. I
arrived on scene less than ten minutes later in my
personal car, but redressed in my uniform. The snow was
coming down hard, creating a very christmasy setting at the
(24:44):
town center square. The nearly thirty foot tall tree stood
upright and was wrapped in large, blinking, multi colored bulbs
at the base of the tree. However, the joyful Christmas
display had been disrupted by the accident. Lieutenant Sears filled
me in over the phone, told me what to expect,
warned me about what I was going to be seeing.
(25:05):
But no amount of preparedness was ever enough to see
what I was now looking at, especially when it happened
to someone I knew very well. I walked up to
the base of the tree, ducked under the police tape,
and joined Lieutenant Sears and another patrol officer and friend,
Lewis Chambers. Sears nodded at me sympathetically. I'm sorry, he said.
(25:30):
I didn't respond. Instead, I walked up a little further
to where the body lay in the snow. The giant
star that should have been the finishing touch at the
top of the tree was instead embedded into bridget Car's skull.
Thanks for listening. If you like what you're hearing, please
(25:50):
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.
(26:11):
Thanks for celebrating Advent with me in the Weird Darkness.
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