I Befriended the Lonely Kid in Town... Big Mistake

Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:07):
Welcome Weirdos. I'm Darren Marler and this is Weird Darkness.
Here you'll find stories of the paranormal, supernatural, legends, lore,
the strange and bizarre, crime, conspiracy, mysterious macabre, unsolved and unexplained.
Coming up. In this episode, Luther Cross brings us the

(00:30):
story of a son who rushes to his mother's deathbed
to say goodbye, but the hardest conversation still awaits him
when he returns home to face his father. It's the
Day Maw Died. Janane Franks sent in the tale The
Basement Door, in which a woman inherits her childhood home
and finally discovers why her parents forbade her from ever

(00:52):
opening a mysterious boarded updoor in the basement. A seasoned
monster hunter tracks a terrifying creature through the Irish countryside,
but nothing could prepare him for the nightmarish battle that
awaits in an old barn. It's the Bog Body Boogeyman
by H. J. Taylor. In Home Wreckers by rightman Ryason,

(01:13):
a widow trapped in her sinking home relives the knight
of her husband's brutal murder over and over, convinced the
homebuilder is trying to force her out. We'll end the
episode with Stone Hollow by Jared Smelker, where a newcomer
to a quiet subdivision dismisses his neighbour's warnings about staying
inside on Halloween night, convinced their urban legend is nothing

(01:36):
more than a silly tradition. But first up, a teenager's
relief at making a new friend in an unfamiliar town
slowly turns to dread as his companion's behavior becomes increasingly
erratic and dangerous. It's a story called My Friend Jeremy
by Randy Hogan. Six tales of fiction tonight for you. Now,

(01:59):
bult your door, lock your windows, turn off your lights,
and come with me into the weird darkness. My Friend

(02:22):
Jeremy by Randy Hogan. It was summer two thousand when
my family decided to buy a house in a beautiful
neighborhood in North Carolina. We were originally from California, but
my dad had just been recently relocated by his job
to help oversee a new office opening up on.

Speaker 2 (02:43):
The East Coast.

Speaker 1 (02:44):
The difference between life in California and life in North
Carolina was night and day. Because the people in Carolina
seemed to live life at a slower pace and enjoy
everything around them, including the company and friendship of their neighbors,
whereas the people in California lived such a faster paced lifestyle.
They never seemed to acknowledge other people unless invoked. I

(03:08):
had to get used to everybody saying hi and introducing themselves,
and the fact that I was going through my awkward
teen years did not help the uncomfortable feeling of meeting
new people. Even though I had trouble being social, I
would be lying if I said that I wasn't excited
to make new friends. However, I was bummed to hear

(03:28):
that most of the kids my age had gone off
to summer camp right before we had moved in. Then
I met Jeremy. I've been exploring my neighborhood when a
strange boy my age came and introduced himself. The reason
I say that Jeremy was strange was due to how
he was dressed in a very faded outfit that looked

(03:49):
like it was from the fifties, and Jeremy had a
very pale complexion and dark rings around his eyes. But nonetheless,
I was relieved to meet someone my age I asked
Jeremy how long he'd lived in the area, and he
said since he could remember. I also asked where he lived,
and he pointed to a more worn down house than

(04:11):
all the other houses. I just took this as his
family was possibly poor, but that did not matter to me.
I was happy to just meet someone my age. He
took me around town and introduced me to some popular
local spots. However, I noticed that everyone would look strangely
at us whenever we were talking. When I'd mentioned it

(04:32):
to Jeremy, he would just shrug it off as me
being paranoid about being new. As the first few weeks
went by, I only saw Jeremy every two or three days,
and every time I saw him, he'd be standing near
the park looking over at an exposed drain pipe that
led to the local river, and when I asked him
what he was doing, he would just completely ignore the question.

(04:56):
And the even stranger part was he always had the
same outfit. Again, I just brushed it off as having
a friend was nice and I didn't want to offend
him by being rude. But things suddenly began to become
strange when Jeremy wanted to play more dangerous games like
cliff jumping into the river, which had to be a

(05:18):
good twenty story drop, and I would continually decline, seeing
the danger of doing so, but Jeremy would get a
sick look in his eyes that grew more disturbing every
time he brought up the subject. One afternoon, I was
walking back from the store getting some things from my
parents when I saw Jeremy by the drain pipe, and

(05:38):
I have to be honest, I did try to hide
from him due to his increasingly odd behavior, but he
noticed me and came up to me. The moment he
reached me, my stomach was in knots. I mean, I
might have actually been a tiny bit scared of him
because I didn't know what he would do this time around,
and my insight of worry was redeemed as the moment

(06:01):
Jeremy walked up to me, he went into a yelling
tirade about how I was a bad person for not
being there for him, and how I was like all
the other kids in town, there just to ridicule and
humiliate him. I became very nervous as I could tell
there was no reasoning with him, and for a minute
I thought he'd throw me to the ground and start

(06:22):
punching my face, and my parents would later find me
lay it out on the pavement in a mess of
groceries and blood. I was lucky enough that Jeremy became
distracted again by the notion of jumping off the drain pipe,
and before I knew it, my heart sank to my
stomach and my face turned peel white. As in the
blink of an eye. Jeremy jumped off the drain pipe

(06:44):
and into the rapid currents that feed out to the
river a mile downstream. I ran to see if I
could see him resurface, but nothing, so I dropped the
bag of groceries and ran to Jeremy's house to alert
his parents what happened. But when I got there, the
house was decrepit and rotting, with no sign that anybody
has lived there for years. Freaked out, I then ran

(07:08):
to my parents, who happened to be talking to one
of the neighbors. In what I told them what happened,
the neighbor's face turned as pale as mine. The neighbor
explained that Jeremy had died back in nineteen fifty five
when he jumped off the same drain pipe and drowned.
They explained that Jeremy was bipolar and in those days

(07:29):
there wasn't enough medical attention for people with that condition,
and the fact that Jeremy's family was ashamed by him
and the other kids teased him ruthlessly did not help
out matters any and the only reason Jeremy jumped in
the first place was to gain acceptance, but it only
led to his demise. Jeremy's mom and dad tried to

(07:50):
sell their home after what happened, but potential buyers kept
saying they felt an angry presence in the house, so
they sold it to the bank and it sat empty
for years, with people sometimes reporting seeing a young man
walking in and around the house. To say I was
speechless is an understatement. I mean, the one potential friend

(08:12):
I make is a ghost. But my nightmare had not
yet ended, as a few weeks later, once school had started,
I made some actual friends and they invited me to
hang out by the river after school to fish. I accepted,
and later that day we went down to the river
to fish and everything was going great. We started playing

(08:32):
a game to see who could throw a rock further,
and the main goal was to try to make it
to the other sides sure, which was about one hundred
and fifty yards apart. And as I got up from
my turn, I dropped the rock out of my hand
in pure terror. As on the other side, waving to
me with that same sick look in his eyes, accompanied

(08:53):
by a disturbing grin. I turned and dropped the rock
out of my hand in pure terror. Is on the
other side waving to me with that same sick look
in his eyes? Was Jeremy, accompanied by a disturbing grin.
I turned and ran all the way home and have
never gone near the drain pipe or the river since.

(09:18):
And I haven't seen Jeremy the day Maw died by
Luther Cross. I'll never forget the day my ma died.

(09:47):
She held on longer than any of us expected she would,
but eventually death comes for us.

Speaker 2 (09:52):
All.

Speaker 1 (09:53):
If you don't care how or where or when. When
it's time to go, well it's time to go. It's
not that I was shocked when doctor Peterson called to
tell me that she'd taken a turn for the worse.
I was in denial, we all were, But I knew
the second and I recognized his voice. I knew why

(10:14):
he'd called. I knew that Maw wasn't long for this world,
and like a good and dutiful son, I packed myself
up in my car and drove for the city, for
the hospital where she'd spend her final moments. Everybody was
there when I showed up, my brothers, my sister, my
aunt's uncles, and cousins. It pained to me that Pau

(10:36):
couldn't be there with us, and my heart sank when
I realized that it would be my responsibility to tell
him that Maw had passed on. I dreaded that conversation
more than the moment my Ma would draw her final breath.
I held her hand till the very end, from the
moment I crossed the threshold of her room till her

(10:59):
dying breath left her lips. Such a strange thing to
be holding on to someone like that when their soul
leaves their body. I could feel her go. There was
a change in the air, a dropping pressure or something
like that, and then she was just gone. The room

(11:23):
erupted and howling cries of pain and grief. Aunt Geraldine
ripped open the door and screeched into the hallway. Nurses
came running, shoving us all out of the way. I
simply smiled, patted Ma's hand, and stood up to move
out of their way. Few tears ran down my cheeks
as I watched the nurses confirm what I already knew.

(11:46):
Maw had finally passed on. She'd suffer no more, and
for that I was grateful. The drive home was spent
in pure silence, turned the radio off and left myself
alone with my thoughts. I was sickened by the fact
that a part of me was glad to see Ma go.

(12:09):
I mean, no one should have to suffer the way
she did, and that part of her journey was finally over.
But then my thoughts would turned back to Paw and
my gut would twist itself up into knots. I had
no idea what kind of commotion he might cause when
I broke the news to him. Lately, he'd been a

(12:32):
right thorn in my backside. I just hoped he wouldn't
send me to be with Ma prematurely. When I got
home that night, Paul was already agitated. I think he
knew about Ma somehow before I ever uttered a word.
He was standing in the darkest corner of the living room,

(12:53):
his back facing me. He rocked gently, swaying on his feet.
He did that sometimes, scared the crap out of me
when I woke up to find him standing in the
darkened corners in my bedroom that way. But I could
never be mad at him. He was my paw, my
blood pauw. I called out, closing the front door behind me. Palm,

(13:17):
we need to talk. He stopped rocking and stood completely still,
his eyes boring holes into that dark corner. I flopped
down on the couch and took a deep breath, rubbing
my eyes with the palms of my hands. It's about Maw,
I said, And before I could even move my hands

(13:38):
away from my eyes, Paw was standing over me, boring
into me with his cold gray eyes. After a few moments,
I realized that it's intense stare. It'say his way. You're
telling me to continue, so I did. It's about Maw,
I stammered. I'm sure how to say the words. She

(14:04):
sighed deeply. Tears broke free from my eyes. She's dead, Paw,
Maw's dead. My body racked with sobs, and I broke
down into a blubbering mess right there on the couch.
But I find I found myself again. I looked up
to see Pau sitting in the chair across the way,
with his head in his hands. I could clearly see

(14:27):
that he was sobbing, but there was no sound. My
heart broke all over again watching him suffer in silent torment.
But I knew what I had to do. It was time, Paw,
I said, reaching a shaking hand towards him. There's something

(14:47):
else you need to know. He looked up at me, then,
his eyes red rimmed and full of those awful silent tears.
You're dead too, Pau. It's time for you to go now.

(15:20):
The Basement Door by Janine Franks. I grew up in
a sleepy country town in my grandparents' old colonial farmhouse,
which my mother inherited. I was raised to be respectful
and mind my manners, but when I was outside playing

(15:43):
with my friends, I was a rambunctious eight year old girl.
I loved to explore the farm and pretend I was
a detective, but my parents said the basement was off limits.
When I was a teenager, my mother told me the
only time I was allowed the basement was to do
the laundry. As she was older, man had difficulty going

(16:04):
up and down the stairs. I noticed in the back
of the basement there was a door that was nailed shut.
I asked my mother about it, and she said, stay
clear of that door. Do you understand. After that day,
I was banned from the basement and the laundry was
done at a family friend's house. As the years passed,

(16:26):
both my parents' health declined and they passed away two
weeks apart. After the funeral services, I was approached by
a tall, lanky man who handed me an envelope and said,
your parents told me to give this to you upon
their deaths. Still in shock from losing both parents, I
forgot about the envelope given to me. Wiping the tears

(16:48):
from my eyes, I opened the envelope and to my surprise,
it was the deed to the old farmhouse. Now that
the house was mine, I could do and go where
I wanted, and the first thing I did was removed
the nailed boards from the basement door. I opened the

(17:08):
door in haste, as I was anxious to see why
the boards were placed there in the first place. At first,
it seemed like a normal musty room, but as I
stepped into the room, I saw a swirling, glowing orb
of light against the wall. I was hesitant to touch
the orb, but I overcame my fear. As I touched

(17:28):
the orb, I fell through to the other side. I
couldn't believe my eyes. The landscape was all wrong. There
were no houses or roads. I walked what seemed like hours,
and I finally saw the inhabitants of this land. They
were Neanderthals. I hid behind some bushes as to not

(17:49):
draw attention to myself, and saw all types of dinosaurs
save our toothed tigers and other species that were supposed
to be extinct. My heart was racing, and I made
up my mind to head back to try and locate
the entrance from which I entered. I walked and walked,
and finally I found the entrance. I stepped into the
glowing light, and I was back in my basement. I

(18:12):
boarded up that door and never told anyone my experience.
I'm seventy eight years old, now never married or had children,
in fear they'd discover what was on the other side
of the door, and left strict instructions in my last
will to demolish the house upon my death. Then I
know why my parents banned me from going anywhere near

(18:35):
that door. I regret I opened.

Speaker 2 (18:38):
It to this day.

Speaker 1 (18:59):
The Bog Body Boogeyman by H. J.

Speaker 2 (19:02):
Taylor.

Speaker 1 (19:13):
The night was hot, air, thick, and soupy. The subtle
change in the temperature from day to night wasn't enough
for a man to notice. Soft breeze was welcoming, but
not nearly sufficient. The rifle in his hand was slippery
from the sweat. He wiped his hands one at a time,
holding firmly on his rifle with the other, something which

(19:35):
he had done so much. The whole front of his
pants were now wet and muddy. He moved slowly, ears
fine tuned to the various sounds at the night, crickets,
small rodents, and the high cornstalks rubbing against one another.
He moved with purpose, every footfall where he should be
a soft and delicate crunch of dirt, his leather vest

(19:59):
and khakis, making a soft sigh as the corn stalks
brushed against him. The moonlight was bright but scattered, Luna
passing in and out from behind the clouds like a
child behind mama's dress, the dark rain clouds turning twilight
to complete blackness. He pushed his stetson back to better

(20:19):
see above the rolls. His target was said to be massive.
He sensed a clearing coming up. The change in sounds
told him so. The rustling of the stalks sounded different.
Fine tuned. He stood scanning the field from behind a
roll just out of sight. He seen nothing but a

(20:39):
field and a small barn in the distance, and more
corn beyond it. He slipped out of the stalks, as
silent as a ghost and as fearsome as Satan himself,
rifle up, eyes leading down the sights, a full clip
and one ready to kill. Fine tuned. He seen movement
between the boards, something moving like a shadow. The black

(21:03):
was blacker. His instincts took over immediately, and he hunkered
down low, not unlike that of a jaguar. He slithered
as if he was a serpent, slowly but with purpose,
until he was afoot from the old, shabby boards of
the barn. He seen nothing now and heard less. It
knew he was there. As he stood looking in through

(21:25):
the cracks, he was almost positive could smell him. The
bog Land monster they called it in these parts, the
monkey ground, and the things smell a smell of rotten eggs,
is what has given it its name. The creature's been
seen eating corpses of murder victims left in these Irish bogs,
digging up long dead corpses and hanging them from trees,

(21:48):
and slaughtering campers and hikers. The monsters caused a panic,
and now.

Speaker 2 (21:55):
He must go.

Speaker 1 (21:57):
The creature's alleged appearance is that of a large humanoid spider,
but the eyewitness accounts are rarely reliable. The human memory
is very fickle, and those left alive to tell are
usually decades apart. He slid around the corner and positioned
himself beside the door, his breath so shallow anybody standing

(22:17):
next to him would think him dead. Stood there, waiting
for a sound, anything to give away its location, waiting
and waiting, his eyes closed, body still, and the only
sound he made was his heartbeat. His meditative state opened

(22:38):
up his surroundings. Every minuscule sound was amplified, and pinpointed
a mouse running across the roof. Roaches inside. He could
hear them, and he knew where they were.

Speaker 2 (22:50):
A chitter.

Speaker 1 (22:52):
His eyes opened with a start. A sound unlike anything
he'd ever heard before came from within the barn, and
he knew what it was. His eyes opened and he
turned to confront it. As he raised his leg to
bust open the door, it exploded outward. Shrapnel tore into him,
and the bulk of the door smashed into him As
he went airborne. He began to lose consciousness immediately. The

(23:16):
impact with the ground woke him up, and he began
to roll. Rifle still in hand. The creature landed where
the monster Hunter lay a split second before. The roar
of this beast was said to have been heard twelve
miles away, and family dogs went berserk. The beast looked
like a massive preying mantis and a human somehow procreated
and berthed this monstrosity. White flesh stretched across long bones,

(23:40):
jointed bulbously, and had a face not even a mother
could love, a mixture between a dog and hornet, a
mouth lipless and full of jagged teeth, eager to shred
the hunter to ribbons. The hunter only got a split
second look before the monster screeched. The hellish sound resembled
the sound of bending metal, the sound of sh ship
makes when it rubs the dock or runs aground. The

(24:03):
hunter covered his ears and fled, ducking behind a haystack.
He peered out and looked longingly at his rifle, currently
being trampled by the creature's three toed hind legs. The
hunter quickly assessed the damage. The shrapnel tore into his
hip and legs, but nothing too serious. After plucking out
what he could, he quickly sprinted for the barn. The

(24:24):
bog monster roared and started bounding after the hunter. The
gate of its legs was fifteen yards. It covered the
distance to the door in no time. The hunter, seeing
that he wasn't going to make it, drew his bowie
and launched himself at the beast. The bogman, not expecting
the hunter to suicide himself, was caught off guard. His long,
slashing forelimbs had no time to come up and defend.

(24:47):
The Hunter's blade went hilt deep into the monster's upper chest.
It slashed this way and that, only to cause the
blade to shred whatever it has in there. The monster's
screams deafened the hunter. The mantis like face of this
creature was trying to bite the hunter, its snapping, beak
like mouth inches from the hunter's head, but he hung
in for dear life as the bogman spun around and around,

(25:10):
terrified and going berserk. The hunter knew now was the
time to try and kill it. He wrapped his legs
around the bog monster and started stabbing as blood and
something else started gushing out covering the hunter. The smell
was out of piss, excrement, and ginger. The hunter tried
to scream as he gagged the puss blood mixture from
his mouth. He stabbed with all he had and the

(25:33):
blade stopped, lodged in bone. He left it and used
it to launch himself with his feet away from the monster.
He landed and rolled to his feet. He was losing
this fight, and now unarmed, he had no chance. With
no more time to ponder, he cut out and hurried
towards the barn. He bounded up the haystacks and rolled
into the loft, hoping to hide and catch his breath.

(25:55):
But no sooner had he got to his feet, the
beast burst through the wall with a breach that blurred
the hunter's vision. He ran for cover, careful to miss
the holes above the stalls. The monster began tearing the
floor to the loft in search of the hunter. He
knew he wasn't getting out, rolling back away from this nightmare.
He stumbled over something and fell and landed with a

(26:15):
solid pain in his backside. His salvation landed in his lap.
It was as if he knew what to do with
the pitchwork before he even registered what it was. He
was on his feet, bounding towards the bogman with the
fork held aloft, screaming like a warrior from hell. He
leaped from the attic and drove the forks into the
monster's face, stopping its destruction. The beast thrashed and screamed,

(26:39):
but was unable to escape the hunter. He rode the
creature to the ground and stepped out with the stinking mess,
but not before wrenching his blade out of the bogman.
He looked into the sun as it was coming up
over the rolls. He took his chest strap off and

(26:59):
caught car of a notch into the cowhide number forty five.
He sighed and nursing his hip, he looked up again
in awe of this Scottish morning. The morning bird's song
was beautiful, carrying itself across the field with the morning fog.
He marveled the landscape and relished at how much this

(27:20):
looked like the flat lands of his native Kentucky. He
retraced his steps to his horse and cart after feeding
the beast and thanking her for not running off after
hearing the monstrous call. On many occasions he's had horses
thrown him. At the first scent of the undead, he
pulled the cover off the content in the bed, revealing

(27:41):
his pack and bedroll and portable point to point communication box.
The wonders of the modern world never fails to impress
the hunter. His first day on the job, he was
whisked away underground, to only emerge three thousand miles away
mere hours later. After cranking the device dozen times, it
came alive with a series of beeps, whines, and grinding.

(28:04):
After he turned some knobs and aligned to the antenna
on the headset and placing it over his ears, he
began to speak into the receiver on our twelve twelve
incoming stats copy. He stood waiting for the reply that
never took long twelve twelve waiting come back, he fiddled
with the knobs to make sure he was on the

(28:25):
right frequency. Confident he was, he brought the speaker to
his mouth control in front of your copy. After a
beat the box lit up and on the face plate
the number zero zero one flashed twelve twelve. This is
Mom and Dog copy loud and standing free, standing by
for stance. The crisp voice of the young man the

(28:47):
hunter met on only one other occasion, came through the headset,
and this time, like every time, his voice was something
he had a hard time believing he was actually hearing.
This young man was sitting in a building under twelve
feet of ice, two hundred miles north of Juno, Alaska,
and he could hear him as if they shared the
same patch of Scottish grass. The creature labeled VD zero

(29:11):
nine seven six as confirmed eliminated, and he had a
cleaning crew and a team to explain its call. The
sound was like that of grinding metal. The hunter pulled
out a pair of glasses with the same antenna as
the two on the headset and put them.

Speaker 2 (29:25):
On gotta be there at twelve twelve.

Speaker 1 (29:27):
The team is readying and inverness and it'll be there
in approximately three hours. Please stand by. He adjusted the
thick glasses and plugged the massive adapter into the calm's box.
It rattled and beaped. Ready when you are Mama Dog,
He depressed the large black button on the top of
the box, and the glasses glowed a blinding light, and

(29:48):
he was swept back to the moment he kept from
the hay loft. The hunter slumped into the cart. His
horse grudged at him. Perspiration dripping into his eyes made
him WinCE. He was just coming into They are magnificent.
The hunter stood back up and removed the shades, his
eyes now watering and his vision blurry. He hated the glasses.

(30:11):
He never understood the importance. He'd been reprimanded for not
getting the images sent in even when he failed to
capture or eliminate the target. This tech was borderline witchcraft.
He could see how this type of thing could work
with electricity, telegraph and those sputtering vehicles. Technology is the
real currency of this world. With the right amount of money,

(30:34):
one could cook anything up. Got what you need, the
hunter asked, These bifocals give me a headache. Another flash
from the bifocals sent him zooming into a pulsating light,
and through the light he could make out a shape writhing.
After putting all his equipment up, he led the horse
back to the barn, making sure to avoid the monster,

(30:56):
horses and abominations don't mix, began setting up his tent.
These cleaning crews take their time home wreckers by rightman Ryson.

(31:19):
The house was sinking. That's how Victoria's husband, Jose Luis
Torres explained it in Spanish to his wife. The company
built their house and the surrounding places on soil it
knew was too soft. Insurers would not pay for the damage.
They said it was the builder's fault. Standoff slashed the

(31:39):
value of the houses, so the neighborhood hired a legal
firm and they were suing the homebuilder. Torres was the
last name on the plaintiff list. The home invasion occurred
at two fifteen am, three weeks after their lawyers filed
papers at the courthouse. Neighbors reported hearing music so loud
and menacing that they feared going outdoors. Those who did

(32:02):
peek through their curtains found a darkened street and porch
lights at the Torres's front door. Two intruders and Masques
and Kevlar used a ram to force their way into
the Torres home. One cleaned out the upstairs safe while
the other intruder shot gunned Jose Luis in bed, but
left Victoria alive and unhinged. Sentries in head and body

(32:24):
armor grouped around the truck that blasted the gangster rap.
By the time anyone called the police after they heard
what might have been a gunshot, the music had stopped.
The attack shattered Victoria. The police investigation pointed to her
husband's involvement, but Victoria dismissed that she blamed the home
builder for her husband's death. To her broken way of thinking,

(32:48):
the intruders had not been cartel mercenaries sent to recover
and punish. They were assassins paid by the builder to
murder her husband and stop the lawsuit. Several nights a week,
she relives the ordeal inside the house, her only connection
to the United States. The scene begins the same way

(33:10):
every time, and once it starts, its course is sure,
like a stone sinking through water. Gangster rap resounds from
the driveway, jolting the black haired woman upright and stopping
her breath in her throat. She stares with dread across
the living room from the couch where she lies each
night without sleeping, the sheet snug under her chin. The

(33:32):
truck roars rhythms that send the house staggering backward like
a palm tree bending in a dust storm. The couch
under her trembles like a nervous cat, and the arcadia
door shivers in its track. Victoria's cry is a keening sound.
Outside the window. The leggy Buginvilla SAgs against the porch alcove.

(33:53):
The sky is at peace, the night humid and silent,
the street empty except for the guard parked at her curb.
The world beyond her windows does not share Victoria's horror.
Iron booted feet dash up the sidewalk, and the front
door claps open before the window can gasp. The walls
bow outward, the foundation bends and the frame twists. The

(34:15):
vaulted ceiling threatens to collapse and bury her. Victoria pulls
up her shoulders and screams. The swollen faced, wild haired
woman shrieks, but the maelstrom drowns the animal sound. A
torrent of epithets, shocking and wicked, pierce the cyclone that
opens and puckers every corner of her house. Then footsteps
hammer up the bare wooden stairs. A gunshot explodes inside

(34:38):
the master bedroom, which Victoria is not entered since that night.
Boots thunder down the stairs, and then out the door.
The air inside chases the pounding sound. Oxygen gushes from
the collapsing house, like air from a punctured lung, leaving
the gas of gun smoke in its place. The walls
suck inward. The door crash shut against the jam, and

(35:01):
its dead bolt shoots into the hole. Iron fingers grip
Victoria's chest and squeeze the last air from her. She
cannot inhale. Her mouth gapes, but her closed throat provides nothing,
not a molecule of life. She gags on her tongue
and lurches toward the front door, but her thighs and
knees crumple without warning. As she flops to the floor.

(35:24):
She drags herself across the carpet, eyes bulging and mouth working,
crawling on elbows through wet sand. Her heart pounds in
her ears. At the front door, she lunges at the
handle and pulls herself up. She fumbles at the dead
bolt with numb fingers. She throws the door against the
stop and dives through it, just before it rebounds against
her ribs on the porch. The cement sidewalk dissolves into

(35:47):
black water, and the window falls face forward into it.
The builder, Victoria reasons, having killed her husband, is trying
to scare her out.

Speaker 2 (35:59):
Of the house.

Speaker 1 (36:00):
However, she is promised to the memory of the murdered
man to spoil the home builder's scheme for as long
as the house stands, or until they confess their plot
in front of her neighbors. But there are no neighbors.
They have fled. No one hears her screams. There are
no cars on the street except for the security car

(36:22):
that parks at the curb in the early hours of
the morning, and the phantom gangs to a truck that
glides past it unwitnessed. The security guard has witnessed though
each of Victoria's dives to the concrete porch that has
swollen and scarred the widow's face. Her story about the
builder wanting to scare her away is the same every time,

(36:45):
and she tells it the same way every time, as
if she's telling it for the first time. She repeats
it while she presses tattered finger nails together in front
of her face to hide the cracked lips and broken
nose below her swollen forehead, even when the guard points
out that there isn't a bit of wood or stucco
missing from the house. She holds fast to the only

(37:08):
argument she can follow. The security guard admits that the
house tilts backward, but that he knows is caused by
the soft soil, the reason the subdivision is as vacant
as Chernobyle. In the last week of September, the house
itself puts an end to the matter. Stressed by unseen agents,
the house folds inward. It leans ever more away from

(37:30):
the streets until the roof beam splits. The rear of
the two story dwelling caves towards the center, while the
roof SAgs like wet cardboard. It is then that the
guard feels he has cause to act. He calls the
city inspector, who condemns the house. The house is unsafe,
the building inspector tells the widow through a Spanish language interpreter.

(37:52):
He hands her the order, you'll have to leave for
your own safety. The company will be forced to demolish it.
The widow exults, I have been right all the time,
She spits into the face of the inspector. Her eyes
are feral, black and scorching. The builder has wanted to
tear down my house. At last, they have admitted it.

(38:13):
The widow's retort bewilders the city inspector, but he keeps
his face bland. Victoria leaves. Now that the truth has
been told, she can go. She departs the United States
and her black sedan with savage hair blowing free, and
drives south to the Sea of Cortez. She can picture
her homes rocky Bay, smell the green salty sea, and

(38:37):
hear the cries of the black winged gulls that float
like kites in the wind. The wailing ceases, but the
sodden house lingers. One morning, it shudders. The front half
drops to the ground, followed by the rear, which pitches
on top. It is a ragged heap of debris and

(38:58):
a shower of Dusteen seconds, there isn't much left for
the company to do. A tractor scoops up the remains
the property and pours them into a dump truck. By
the end of the day, the demolition crew has tidied
the foundation. At dusk, the cement slab lays in the long,

(39:19):
narrow lot of the murdered man as clean as a
grave marker stone hollow. By Jared Smelker, The three rules

(39:54):
to live by. Are simple in Stone Hollow. Be courteous
to your neighbors, keep your house and yard looking good,
and don't go outside after dark on Halloween. Ever, most
follow these simple rules. Some don't, and that's a shame.

(40:18):
Jeff Connor had just moved into the Stone Hollow subdivision
on October fourth. The two bedroom house on seven sixty
one Maple Street was a quaint, pale yellow house with
green shutters and a brick fireplace. The yard was adorned
with maple and pine trees, along with a few bird
feeders and a bird bath. Fall had come early, and

(40:39):
already the leaves had turned to brilliant oranges, yellows, and reds.
Some of the leaves were on the ground, but most
were still hanging tight to the trees. The weather had
been pleasantly cool, and it seemed to rain every other day.
Jeff was a single guy in his late twenties. He'd
moved to Grand Blanc from Oregon for a better career opportunity.

(41:00):
He wanted to live near the city, but not in it.
Some placed quiet with friendly neighbors and thoughts of one
day raising a family. Even from day one, his neighbors
waved to him and said hello whenever they passed. Stone
Hollow was on the outskirts of town. It was a
subdivision cut out of the thick Woods back in the

(41:21):
late nineteen fifties. There was only one way in or out.
The railroad had tracks that ran to the north of
the area, and part of them ran directly through the subdivision.
Most of the time it was quiet, but once a
night a freight train would come through. Residents were used
to it. Some would even hum along to the whistle

(41:42):
as it traveled through. Halloween was coming soon, and the
residents were busy decorating for the holiday. Every house had
some type of decoration. Some were scary while others were comical.
Pumpkins adorned every porch or patio, and fall wreaths hung
from every door. It was always the tradition in Stone

(42:04):
Hollow to decorate for Halloween. Jeff's direct neighbor, ninety year
old missus Maxine Taylor, or Grammy Maxie as most called her,
saultered over to Jeff's early Saturday morning on the twenty
first with a full welcome basket, just as she did
every time a new person or family moved into the subdivision.

(42:25):
She was sweet that way. She was sweet in every way, actually,
just a little bit of a woman with thin, long
gray hair and a slight limp because of failing hips.
Maxie was the official unofficial welcome wagon to the newcomers
of the area, who always had a large basket full
of goodies, homemade cookies, coffee, coffee mugs, cinnamon rolls, crackers, candy,

(42:50):
and the local newspaper. Hello, mister Connor, are you getting
ready for Halloween? She gently placed the basket at Jeff's feet.
Jeff was putting out a few knew Halloween decorations he
purchased the day before. Yeah, I think I'll buy a
bags of candy to hand out. He stuck a small
scarecrow into the ground.

Speaker 2 (43:09):
Well, what's this?

Speaker 1 (43:10):
Jeff picked up the basket and began to rummage to
the contents. Oh, just a little welcome to the neighborhood
package for you, mister Connor. She gleefully smiled and held
open her arms for a fank you hug. He hesitantly
thanked her and gave her a light hug. He figured
if he hugged her any tighter, she would break. He
had to bend down quite a bit because she was

(43:32):
quite short, he noticed she smelled like a combination of sugar,
cookies and baby powder, reminded him of his own grandmother.
Her cheerful tone turned slightly serious as she placed her
hand on his arm and looked directly into his eyes.
You know of the three rules here, mister Connor. Yes,

(43:53):
my realtor read them off to me when I bought
the place. They seemed pretty reasonable, But that last one
not so sure about what exactly does that mean? Well,
mister Connor, that last rule is quite an important one,
I assure you. I'll get my grandson George to stop
over and tell you about it. He only lives two

(44:14):
houses down. She turned away, smiling and walked toward her house.
You can call me Jeff, you know, he shouted. She
just waved at him and disappeared inside. Jeff shook his
head in a state of confusion, adjusted his ball cap,
and then went back to placing his Halloween decorations. He
didn't necessarily decorate for himself, as it was more for

(44:36):
entertaining the neighborhood kids. Jeff was never really into Halloween
even as a kid. Sure, he participated in took retreating
with his schoolmates, but half filled sack of candy was
good enough for him. He usually retreated home early, when
his friends would stay out later and hit every house
they could, some more than once. Later that afternoon, Jeff

(44:59):
was finishing up the decorations and setting a few pumpkins
on his front porch. Hello, neighbor, he heard from behind him.
It was George. I'm George Taylor. He reached out to
shake Jeff's hand. The two men shook hands and introduced themselves. Heard,
Grammy Max, he paid you a visit this morning. George
adjusted his hat. Yes, indeed she did. She gave me

(45:21):
a very nice welcome basket too, George smiled. Yeah, she's
a sweet one. God bless her. The two enjoyed small
talk and got to know each other. George even helped
Jeff hanging orange lights on his porch. George was a
tall man, about six foot four, with strong, squared shoulders
and squared jaw. Clean shaven even his head except for

(45:43):
a larger than life red haired mustache that covered most
of his lips and face. His voice was deep but pleasant.
George was a good man, the hard working family man
with a wife and five kids. Did Grammy Maxy tell
you about the three rules. George folded up Jeff's ladder
to put it away. She did, but said, you would
explain the third rule to me. I didn't quite understand

(46:06):
what it meant. Jeff wiped his hands off with a
rag and reached for two beers from the garage refrigerator.
He opened them and handed one to George. It's simple, really,
George began to explain as he took a sip. Halloween
is fun and been exciting for the people of Stone Hollow,
especially the kids. We come together as a community and

(46:27):
enjoy the day as friends and neighbors do. But when
the sun begins to set, we depart the streets and
yards and head for home. Wait, isn't trick or treating
usually at night? Jeff took a swig of his beer,
normally for most communities, but not ours. George's firm tone continued.

(46:49):
Everyone knows that in Stone Hollow you celebrate Halloween and
trick or treating in the light of day. At night,
everyone goes inside, locking all the doors and windows. No
comes out until morning. Ever, that's how it works here,
Jeff uh okay. Jeff's body language and tone were slightly

(47:11):
of a mocking manner. Essentially brushing off the seriousness of
George's message, And why is that? George stood straight, moved
in a little closer to Jeff, and looked directly into
his eyes. Do you really want the truth? Jeff? Yeah, sure,
Jeff said playfully. He really did not understand the serious

(47:34):
nature of rule three, and in his mind already brushed
it off. George began to enlighten Jeff after taking a
seat on the front porch steps. His knees creaked as
he sat and removed his old worn straw hat. George
took a deep breath as Jeff sat beside him, both
men taking a long drink at their beers. George began.

(47:56):
When Graham Blanc was settled in the spring of eighteen
twenty two, the settlers were told by the local Indian
tribes to never venture into the deep woods, especially at night.
They described horrible things that would take place to their
people from something they only referred to as the creature.
They described it as something that could change in size

(48:18):
from a foot tall to ten feet tall. It was
like a part wolf, bear and ape, with thick hair,
a dense, heavy tail, long muscular arms, and razor claws.
They said it had empty black eyes with a massive
mouth filled with hundreds of large teeth. George stopped, took

(48:39):
a long swig of his beer, and groaned continued. When
anyone entered the deep Woods, they would never return, except
for one young Indian boy who went into the woods
with his father, only to reappear hours later covered in blood.
His father's blood. The young boy described the creature and

(49:00):
spoke of the ear piercing howl it made as a tourist.
Father apart, the Indian medicine man and chiefs placed a
curse on the woods to hold the creature at bay.
For many years, no one ever ventured into the deep
Woods at night. So Stone hollows now in the middle
of these deep woods, Jeff clutched his near empty beer bottle.

(49:22):
You are correct, Jeff, We are smack dab in the
middle of what were the deep woods. Now we're a
subdivision with Holmes driveways and flower gardens. In the fifties,
when the subdivision was built, no one really knew about
the creature, or they chose to forget. Can't block progress,
you know, well, all so it's only on Halloween night

(49:46):
that something happens. Now, Jeff asked as his body began
to get restless. People believed today that when the medicine
man and chiefs placed a curse on the land and
the creature, the curse held it except for one a
year Halloween. George took a final swig of beer, emptying
the bottle. Come on, George, this is the new millennium.

(50:08):
Do you really expect me to believe some crazy story
like this, especially so close to Halloween. Jeff stood up,
retrieving his bottle of beer and shook his head. Good one, George.
I'm sure all the newcomers to the subdivision hear this
same story. George stood up and handed Jeff's empty beer bottle.
Lots of people who lived here for years with no

(50:30):
issues Jeff, some for generations because they followed the three
simple rules. Those who don't follow the rules usually aren't
around very long. The guy who owned your house before you,
he wasn't around very long. George shook Jeff's hand and grinned. Well, George,
I appreciate the words of wisdom and the fair warning,

(50:52):
but I think I'll be okay, and I'll plan on
going anywhere. And I certainly don't believe your urban legend either.
Jeff's smurt assuredly, suit yourself, young man, suit yourself. That
being Halloween, George waved goodbye as he walked down the
driveway towards his own house. Halloween morning came to Stonehallow,

(51:13):
and already the kids were in costume walking the streets.
Parents were handing out candy, along with cider and doughnuts
to all the neighborhood kids. Neighbors were talking and passing
dessert and casserole dishes to one another. It was a crisp,
cool fall morning, with just a hint of sunshine pouring
through spaces in the thick gray clouds. Jeff was up

(51:34):
drinking his coffee and handing out candy to anyone who
stopped by, and that was every kid in the neighborhood.
He enjoyed watching them laugh, dance around, and show off
their costumes. A few of his neighbors stopped by to
introduce themselves if they hadn't already, and offered homemade treats. Twice,
Jeff asked sarcastically if anyone had seen the creature. Once asked,

(51:58):
the neighbor's demeanor went from happy to irritation and avoidance.
Jeff thought this was strange, and even though he didn't
believe in it, thought it best not to mention it again.
It was not his intention to alienate himself. After only
living in the subdivision for a month. The day was
wrapping up with children all full of sugar, candy, cookies, doughnuts,

(52:21):
with cider and pop to wash it all down. Most
of the neighborhood was back to their homes, talking and laughing.
Rain clouds now blocked this slight sunshine and a light
mists started. The breeze was feeling a bit on the
chili side, and colorful leaves were sailing to the ground.
Jeff grabbed a sweatshirt and a book and then settled

(52:41):
onto his porch to relax before having dinner. As night
enveloped the subdivision, Jeff sat on his porch eating the
slow cooker chicken and dumplings a neighbor had dropped off
for him. He noticed the neighborhood had gone quiet, except
for the securing of doors and windows all around him.
Within minutes there was complete silence. No birds, no animals,

(53:08):
no people, no nothing. Even the breeze quelled and the
leaves stopped moving, only silence. Jeff swallowed his last bite
of dinner. Hard, This is ridiculous, he said to himself
out loud. You people are nuts. Jeff set his bowl

(53:31):
and spooned down and walked off his porch into his yard.
The neighbors doors were closed, windows shut, and blinds drawn.
No lights were on except for a few street lights
glowing here and there. Yep, Happy Halloween, everyone, Jeff yelled out.
He began to walk the neighborhood as if he hadn't
a care in the world. He walked by a Grandma

(53:53):
Maxie's house and looked toward the house. She was standing
in the front window, candles lit behind her. She looked out.
Jeff placed her finger in front of her lips and whispered,
sh shaking her head from side to side. Jeff, being
arrogant and unafraid, took no heed of her cautionary message
and shouted Happy Halloween as he smiled, waved, and strolled by.

(54:17):
Soon he was a block or so away from his house,
close to the railroad tracks. There were no street lights
near the tracks, only a thick tree line and large bushes.
Jeff's non belief and pride had the best of him.
He didn't believe George's story, and he showed no fear.
Walking through the subdivision, the sky was as black as

(54:38):
he'd ever seen, except for a few stars and hazy moonlight.
Jeff felt a distant breeze and could faintly hear the
leaves being tossed around the ground. The hair on his
arms began to rise. His mind began to wander and wonder.
His self assured attitude changed to meek in a matter
of seconds. His stomach tightened. He could feel someone watching him.

(55:02):
He could sense there was something in the bushes in
front of him. He realized he was no longer alone.
Panic filled his mind and body. His stomach turned and
he began to sweat. He kept trying to rationalize the
sounds coming from the bushes and the feeling of being watched.
There's no way what George talked about is true, he

(55:23):
repeated in his mind. For a second, he thought, perhaps
George took the attempt to scare him to another level.
It's probably just George in the bushes, he thought. Jeff
could hear the nightly train coming. He could see the
train's light in the far distance, and he could hear
the clacking on the tracks. Time to go, he said,
under his breath, but he didn't move. The bushes no

(55:46):
longer generated the commotion he heard moments ago. He can
only hear the train now rushing by. Although the train
was next to him and booming, his ears began to deafen.
He could only hear his heartbeat. It was beating fast faster.
He felt every hair across his body stand firm. He
could feel something directly behind him. He felt solid, heavy

(56:09):
footsteps in the grass approached and stopped just behind him.
He looked down at the ground in front of him,
the faint moonlight as the shadow of himself, and then
a much larger shadow overpowering his own. The sounds of
the train were virtually non existent. Instead, he could hear
teeth clenching and grinding just behind him. His stomach dropped

(56:32):
and sweat covered his face. His heart beat hard at
his chest to be felt like he was choking. The
train was there, right there, only a few feet away.
He could jump for it, grab the train, and escape.
He thought. The train speeding by made his hair blow
in his face, yet the clamor was absent. He wanted
to run, his mind raised, but his legs were numb

(56:52):
and his spine frozen. He could smell blood waft from
the creature's breath. He could feel the heat from its
mouth next to his ear. His body began to tremble
and his palms were ice cold. Run damn it, run,
he kept saying to himself. But he knew, he knew,
it wouldn't do any good. The train passed him and
quickly disappeared into the distance. Its whistle faded like the

(57:15):
hope of escape. A raspy, guttural growl, as if it
came from the depths of hell, now pierced the air.
Jeff's body quivered and almost collapsed. He could sense the
creature growing in sighs behind him. Jeff's body tightened as
tears began to make their way down his sweaty face.
Claws tapped his shoulder and then dug in pain. Began

(57:38):
to envelop his upper body, and he could feel blood
start to make its way down his torso. As he
turned his head and body to face the creature, the
scent of sugar cookies penetrated his nose. He started to scream,
but then he heard a soft, familiar voice shh. He
looked up and stared directly into the Creature's hollow eyes.

(58:00):
What the Grammy Maxy Today? There's a for sale sign
in the front yard of seven six' One Maple street
if anyone's looking for a nice place to live In Stone.
Hollow only three simple rules to live. By thanks for.

(58:28):
Listening if you like the, show please share it with
someone you know who loves the paranormal or strange, stories true, crime,
monsters or unsolved mysteries like you. Do all stories in
this episode are works of fiction and were submitted for
use by the. Authors My Friend jeremy is By Randy,
Hogan The De Mau died is By Luther, Cross The

(58:48):
Basement door is By Jeanine, Franks the Bog Body boogeyman
is BY. H. J, taylor Home wreckers is by Wrightman,
ryason And Stone hollow is By JARED. S smelker from
the Book Wicked. Harvest Michigan monsters And Macabre Weird darkness
is a production and trademark Of Marler House. Productions and
now that we're coming out of the, Dark i'll leave

(59:10):
you with a little light Verse john, Four verse. Eighteen
there is no fear in, love but perfect love drives
out fear because fear has to do with. Punishment the
one who fears is not made perfect in, love and
a final, Thought having a specific meaning and purpose in
your life helps to encourage you towards living a fulfilling

(59:32):
and inspired. Life Vick. Johnson I'm Darren. Marler thanks for
joining me in the weird darkness

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