Bonus! Halloween Episode - 2 short stories - Redhead Rewriting Reality

Episode Transcript
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(00:05):
Welcome to Redhead Rewriting Reality by Kimberly Sue Iverson
the story of my life as I figureout who I am after a lifetime of
abuse and share my journey with that.
Sharing my journey of building my author career, the struggles,
bettering self and creating a new life.

(00:25):
I'm a multi genre author who's published more than 53 stories
and coming to you from the Pacific Northwest.
And this podcast is for you because like me, you love
stories, journeys and you just want to relax for a bit.
So let me take care of you. This audio is intended for an

(00:46):
adult audience. Themes and topics may not be
suitable for all audiences. Listener discretion is advice.
Now get yourself comfy and make yourself at home and let's dive
in. I thought it would be fun to do
something for Halloween and thisI was looking around.

(01:10):
I posted on socials that I was looking for something that was
in the public domain, just like the other stories that I can
read that is free. It had a Halloween theme to it.
And I come across this 25 ghost stories by West Bob Holland, or

(01:37):
I suppose that's Holland or giveme if I'm not saying that
correctly, and it was on the Project Gutenberg site.
It has, as it says, 25 differentghost stories, but I am going to
choose a couple to read, so I hope you enjoy this short

(02:02):
interim for Halloween stories. Again, this is 25 ghost stories
by West Bob Holland, read by your host, Kimberly Sue Iverson
Preface for this book says This collection of ghost stories owes

(02:29):
its publication to an interest that I have long felt in the
supernatural and in works of theimagination.
As a child, I was deeply concerned in tales of Spooks,
haunted houses, wraiths and spectres, and stories of weird
experiences. Clanking chains, ghostly sights,

(02:55):
and gruesome sounds always held me spellbound and breathless.
Experiences in editorial officestaught me that I was not alone
in liking stories of mystery. The desire to know something of
that existence that is veiled bydeath is equally potent in old

(03:20):
age and in youth. And men, women and children like
to be thrilled and to have a creepy feeling along the spinal
column as the result of reading of a visitor from beyond the
grave. This volume contains the most
famous of the weird stories of Edgar Allan Poe, that master of

(03:47):
this form of literature. The black cat contains all the
needed element of mystery and supernatural, and yet the feline
acts in a natural manner all of the time, and the story is quite
possibly true. It is only in the manner of its

(04:10):
telling that the tale becomes one that fittingly finds its
place in this collection. Guy de MO Poisson, the clever
Frenchman, is also represented by two effective bits of work.
And other less widely known writers have also contributed

(04:33):
stories that are worth reading and when once read, will be
remembered. There is not a story among the
25 that is not worthy of close reading.
There has recently been a revival in interest in ghost
stories. Many of the high class magazines

(04:54):
have within a few months printedstories with supernatural
incidents, and writers whose names are known to all who have
read have turned their attentionto this form of literature.
Whether or not the reader believe in ghosts, he cannot

(05:14):
fail to be interested in this little book without venturing to
express a positive opinion either way.
I will only say, with Hamlet there are more things in heaven
and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

(05:34):
The Black Cat by Edgar Allan PoeFor the most wild yet most
homely narrative which I am about to pin, I neither expect
nor solicit belief. Mad indeed would I be to expect

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it in a case where my very senses reject their own
evidence. Yet mad am I not, and very
surely do I not dream. But to Morrow I die, and to day
I would unburden my soul. My immediate purpose is to place

(06:18):
before the world, plainly, succinctly, and without comment,
a series of mere household events.
In their consequences these events have terrified, have
tortured, have destroyed me. Yet I will not attempt to

(06:39):
expound them. To me they have presented little
but horror. To many they will seem less
terrible than baroques. Hereafter.
Perhaps some intellect may be found which will reduce my
phantasm to the commonplace, some intellect more calm, more

(07:04):
logical, and far less excitable than my own, which will perceive
in the circumstances I detail with awe, nothing more than an
ordinary succession of very natural causes and effects.
From my infancy I was noted for the docility and humanity of my

(07:28):
disposition. My tenderness of heart was Even
so conspicuous as to make me thejest of my companions.
I was especially fond of animals, and was indulged by my
parrots with a great variety of pets.
With these I spent most of my time, and never was so happy as

(07:51):
when feeding and caressing them.This peculiarity of character
grew with my growth, and in my manhood I derived from it one of
my principal sources of pleasure.
To those who have cherished an affection for a faithful and
sagacious dog, I need hardly be at the trouble of explaining the

(08:14):
nature or the intensity of the gratification thus derivable.
There is something in the unselfish and self sacrificing
love of a brute which goes directly to the heart of him who
has had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and
gossamer fidelity of mere man. I married early, and was happy

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to find in my wife a dispositionnot uncongenial with my own.
Observing my partiality for domestic pets, she lost no
opportunity of procuring those of the most agreeable kind.
We had birds, goldfish, a fine dog, rabbits, a small monkey,

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and a cat. This latter was a remarkably
large and beautiful animal, entirely black and sagacious to
an astonishing degree. In Speaking of his intelligence,
my wife, who at heart was not a little tinctured with
superstition, made frequent allusion to the ancient popular

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notion which regarded all Black Cats as witches in disguise.
Not that she was ever serious upon this point.
And I mentioned the matter at all, for no better reason than
that it happens just now to be remembered.
Pluto, this was the cat's name, was my favorite pet and

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playmate. I alone fed him, and he attended
me wherever I went about the house.
It was even with difficulty thatI could prevent him from
following me through the streets.
Our friendship lasted in this manner for several years, during
which my general temperament andcharacter, through the

(10:09):
instrumentality of the fiend intemperance, had I blushed to
confess it, experienced A radical alteration for the
worse. I grew day by day more Moody,
more irritable, more regardless of the feelings of others.

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I suffered myself to use intemperate language.
To my wife at length I even offered her personal violence.
My pets, of course, were made tofeel the change in my
disposition. I not only neglected them, but
I'll used them for Pluto. However, I still retained

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sufficient regard to restrain mefrom maltreating him, as I made
no scruple of maltreating the rabbits, the monkey, or even the
dog, when by accident or throughaffection they came in my way.
But my disease grew upon me, Forwhat disease is like alcohol?

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And at length even Pluto, who was now becoming old and
consequently somewhat peevish, even Pluto began to experience
the effects of my ill temper. One night, returning home, much
intoxicated, from one of my haunts about town, I fancied

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that the cat avoided my presence.
I seized him when, in his frightat my violence, he inflicted A
slight wound upon my hand with his teeth.
The fury of a demon instantly possessed me.
I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed at once

(12:00):
to take its flight from my body in a more than fiendish
melvalence. Gin nurtured, thrilled every
fibre of my frame. I took from my waistcoat pocket
a penknife, opened it, grasped the poor beast by the throat and
deliberately cut one of its eyesfrom the socket.

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I blush, I burn, I shudder whileI pin the damnable atrocity.
When reason returned with the morning, when I had slept off
the fumes of the night's debauch, I experienced A
sentiment, half of horror, half of remorse for the crime of

(12:49):
which I had been guilty. But it was at best a feeble and
equivocal feeling, and the soul remained untouched.
I again plunged into excess, andsoon drowned in wine all memory
of the deed. In the meantime the cat slowly

(13:13):
recovered The socket of the losteye presented, it is true, a
frightful appearance, but he no longer appeared to suffer any
pain. He went about the house as
usual, but, as might be expected, fled in extreme terror

(13:35):
at my approach. I had so much of my old heart
left as to be at first grieved by this evident dislike on the
part of a creature which had once so loved me.
But this feeling soon gave placeto irritation, and then came as

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if to my final and irrevocable overthrow, the spirit of
perverseness. Of this spirit philosophy takes
no account. Yet I am not more sure that my
soul lives than I am that perverseness is one of the
primitive impulses of the human heart, one of the indivisible

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primary faculties or sentiments which give direction to the
character of man, who has not hundreds of times found himself
committing A vile or silly action for no other reason than
because he knows he should not. Have we not a perpetual

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inclination, in the teeth of ourbest judgement, to violate that
which is law merely because we understand it to be such?
This spirit of perverseness, I say, came to my final overthrow.
It was this unfathomable longingof the soul to vex itself, to

(15:10):
offer violence to its own nature, to do wrong for the
wrong's sake only, that urged meto continue, and finally to
consummate the injury I had afflicted upon the unoffending
brute. 1 Morning in cold blood Islipped A noose about its neck

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and hung it to the limb of a tree.
Hung it with the tears streamingfrom my eyes and the bitterest
remorse at my heart. Hung it because I knew that it
had loved me and because I felt it had given me no offence.

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Hung it because I knew that in doing so I was committing a sin,
a deadly sin that would so jeopardise my immortal soul as
to place it, if such a thing were possible, even beyond the
reach of the infinite mercy of the most merciful and most

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terrible God. On the night of the day on which
this cruel deed was done, I was aroused from sleep by the cry of
fire. The curtains of my bed were in
flames. The whole house was blazing.

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It was with great difficulty that my wife, a servant, and
myself made our escape from the conflagration.
This destruction was complete. My entire worldly wealth was
swallowed up, and I resigned myself thenceforward to despair.

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I'm above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence
of cause and effect between the disaster and the atrocity, but I
am detailing a chain of facts and wish not to leave even a
possible link imperfect. On the day succeeding the fire,

(17:24):
I visited the ruins. The walls, with one exception,
had fallen in. This exception was found in a
compartment wall, not very thick, which stood about the
middle of the house, and againstwhich had rested the head of my
bed. The plastering had here in great

(17:47):
measure resisted the action of the fire, a fact which I
attributed to its having been recently spread.
About this wall a dense crowd were collected, and many persons
seemed to be examining a particular portion of it with
very minute and eager attention.The words, strange, singular,

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and other similar expressions, excited my curiosity.
I approached, and saw, as if graven in bas relief upon the
white surface, the figure of a gigantic cat.
The impression was given with anaccuracy truly marvellous.

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There was rope about the animal's neck when I first
beheld this apparition, for I could scarcely regard it as
less. My wonder and my terror were
extreme. But at length reflection came to
my aid. The cat, I remembered, had been

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hung in a garden adjacent to thehouse.
Upon the alarm of fire, this garden had been immediately
filled by the crowd by someone of whom the animal must have
been cut from the tree and thrown through an open window
into my chamber. This had probably been done with

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the view as of arousing me from sleep.
Falling of the other walls had compressed the victim of my
cruelty into the substance of the freshly spread plaster, the
lime of which, with the flames and the ammonia from the
carcass, had then accomplished the portraiture as I saw it.

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Although I thus readily accounted to my reason, if not
altogether to my conscience, forthe startling fact just
detailed, it did not the less fail to make a deep impression
upon my fancy. For months I could not rid
myself of the phantasm of the cat, and during this period

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there came back into my spirit 1/2 sentiment that seemed but
was not remorse. I went so far as to regret the
loss of the animal, and to look about me among the vile haunts
which I now habitually frequented.
For another pet of the same species, and of somewhat similar

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appearance, with which to supplyits place.
One night, as I sat half stupefied in a din of more than
infamy, my attention was suddenly drawn to some black
object reposing upon the head ofone of the immense hogs.
Heads of gin or of rum, which constituted the chief furniture

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of the apartment. I had been looking steadily at
the top of this hog's head for some minutes, and what now
caused me surprise was the fact that I had not sooner perceived
the object. Thereupon I approached it and
touched it with my hand. It was a black cat, a very large

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one, only as large as Pluto, closely resembling him in every
respect, but only Pluto had not a white hair upon any portion of
his body. But this cat had a large,
although indefinite, splotch of white, covering nearly the whole

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region of the breast. Upon my touching him, he
immediately arose, purred loudly, rubbed against my hand,
and appeared delighted with my notice.
This, then, was the very creature of which I was in
search. I at once offered to purchase it

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of the landlord, but this personmade no claim to it, knew
nothing of it, had never seen itbefore.
I continued my caresses, and when I was prepared to go home,
the animal avenged a dispositionto accompany me.
I permitted it to do so, occasionally stooping and

(22:20):
patting it as I proceeded. When it reached the house, it
domesticated itself at once, andbecame immediately a great
favorite with my wife. For my own part, I soon found a
dislike to it arising within me.This was just the reverse of

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what I had anticipated, but I know not how or why it was.
Its evident fondness for myself rather disgusted and annoyed me.
By slow degrees. These feelings of disgust and
annoyance rose into the bitterness of hatred.

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I avoided the creature, a certain sense of shame in the
remembrance of my former deed ofcruelty preventing me from
physically abusing it. I did not for some weeks strike
or otherwise violently I'll use it.
But gradually, very gradually, Icame to look upon it with

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unutterable loathing, and to flee silently from its odious
presence as from the breath of apestilence.
What added no doubt, to my hatred of the beast was the
discovery, on the morning after I brought it home, that, like
Pluto, it also had been deprivedof one of its eyes.

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This circumstance, however, onlyendeared it to my wife, who, as
I have already said, possessed in a high degree that humanity
of feeling which had once been my distinguishing trait, and the
source of many of my simplest and pierced pleasures.

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With my aversion to this cat, however, its partiality for
myself seemed to increase. It followed my footsteps with
pertinacity, which it would be difficult to make the reader
comprehend. Whenever I sat, it would Crouch
beneath my chair, or spring uponmy knees, covering me with its

(24:35):
loathsome chresses. If I arose to walk, it would get
between my feet, and thus nearlythrow me down, or, fastening its
long and sharp claws in my dress, clamour in this manner to
my breast. At such times, although I longed

(24:58):
to destroy it with a blow, I wasyet withheld from doing so,
partly by a memory of my former crime, chiefly, let me confess
it at once, by absolute dread ofthe beast.
This dread was not exactly a dread of physical evil, and yet

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I should be at a loss how otherwise to define it.
I am almost ashamed to own. Yes, even in this felon's sail I
am almost ashamed to own that the terror and horror with which
the animal inspired me had been heightened by one of the merest

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chimeras it would be possible toconceive.
My wife had called my attention more than once to the character
of the mark of white hair of which I have spoken, and which
constituted the sole visible difference between the strange
beast and the one I had destroyed.

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The reader will remember that this mark, although large, had
been originally very indefinite,but by slow degrees, degrees
nearly imperceptible, and which for a long time my reason
struggled to reject as fanciful.It had at length assumed A

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rigorous distinctness of outline.
It was now the representation ofan object that I shudder to
name. And for this above all, I
loathed and dreaded, and would have rid myself of the monster
had I dared. It was now, I say, the image of

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a hideous, of a ghastly thing ofthe gallows, oh mournful and
terrible engine of horror and ofcrime, of agony and of death.
And now was I indeed wretched beyond the wretchedness of mere

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humanity and a brute beast whosefellow I had contemptuously
destroyed, a brute beast to workout for me, a man fashioned into
the image of the High God so much of insufferable woe.

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Alas, neither by day nor night knew I the blessing of rest
anymore. During the former the creature
left me no moment alone, and in the latter I started hourly from
dreams of unutterable fear, to find the hot breath of the thing

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upon my face and its vast weight, an Incarnate nightmare
that I had no power to shake off, incumbent eternally upon my
heart. Beneath the pressure of torments
such as these, the feeble remnants of the good within me

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succumbed. Evil thoughts became my sole
intimates, the darkest and most evil of thoughts.
The moodiness of my usual temperincreased to hatred of all
things and of all mankind, whilefrom the sudden frequent and

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ungovernable outbursts of a furyto which I now blindly abandoned
myself. My uncomplaining wife, alas, was
the most usual and the most patient of sufferers.
One day she accompanied me upon some household errand into the

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cellar of the old building whichour poverty compelled us to
inhabit. The cat followed me down the
steep stairs, and nearly throwing me headlong,
exasperated me to madness. Uplifting an axe, and forgetting
in my wrath the childish dread which had hitherto stayed my

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hand, I aimed a blow at the animal, which, of course, would
have proved instantly fatal had it descended as I wished.
But this blow was arrested by the hand of my wife.

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Goaded by the interference into a rage more than demoniacal, I
withdrew my arm from her grasp and buried the axe in her brain.
She fell dead upon the spot without a groan.
This hideous murder accomplished, I set myself

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forthwith and with entire deliberation to the task of
concealing the body. I knew that I could not remove
it from the house either by day or by night, without the risk of
being observed by the neighbors.Many projects entered my mind.

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At one period I thought of cutting the corpse into minute
fragments and destroying them byfire.
At another I resolved to dig a grave for it in the floor of the
cellar. Again I deliberated about
casting it into the well in the yard, about packing it in a box

(30:57):
as of merchandise with the usualarrangements, and so getting a
Porter to take it from the house.
Finally I hit upon what I considered a far better
expedient than either of those. I determined to wall it up in
the cellar, as the monks of the Middle Ages are recorded to have

(31:21):
walled up their victims for a purpose such as this.
The cellar was well adapted. Its walls were loosely
constructed and had lately been plastered throughout with a
rough plaster, which the dampness of the atmosphere had
prevented from hardening. Moreover, in one of the walls

(31:44):
was a projection caused by a false chimney or fireplace that
had been filled up and made to resemble the rest of the cellar.
I made no doubt that I could readily displace the bricks at
this point, insert the corpse, and wall the hole up as before,
so that no eye could detect anything suspicious, and in this

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calculation I was not deceived. By means of a crowbar I easily
dislodged the bricks, and havingcarefully deposited the body
against the inner wall, I propped it in that position,
while with little trouble, I relayed the whole structure as

(32:29):
it originally stood. Having procured mortar, sand,
and hair with every possible precaution, I prepared a plaster
which could not be distinguishedfrom the old, and with this I
very carefully went over the newbrickwork.
When I had finished, I felt satisfied that all was right.

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The wall did not present the slightest appearance of having
been disturbed. The rubbish on the floor was
picked up with the minutest care.
I looked around triumphantly, and said to myself, Here at
last, then, my labour has not been in vain.

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My next step was to look for thebeast which had been the cause
of so much wretchedness, for a head at length firmly resolved
to put it to death. Had I been able to meet with it
at the moment, there could have been no doubt of its fate, but
it appeared that the crafty animal had been alarmed at the

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violence of my previous anger, and for Beau to present itself
in my present mood. It is impossible to describe or
to imagine the deep, the blissful sense of relief which
the absence of the detested creature occasioned in my bosom.

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It did not make its appearance during the night, and thus, for
one night at least since its introduction into the house, I
soundly and tranquilly slept. I slept even with the burden of
murder upon my soul. The 2nd and the 3rd day passed,

(34:19):
and still my tormentor came not once again I breathed as a free
man. That monster in terror had fled
the premises forever. I should behold it no more.
My happiness was supreme. The guilt of my dark deed

(34:39):
disturbed me but little. Some few inquiries had been
made. These had been readily answered,
Even a search had been instituted, but of course
nothing was to be discovered. I looked upon my future Felicity
as secured. Upon the 4th day of the

(35:00):
assassination, a party of the police came very unexpectedly
into the house, and proceeded again to make a rigorous
investigation of the premises secure.
However, in the inscrutability of my place of concealment, I
felt no embarrassment whatsoever.

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The officers bade me accompany them in their search.
They left no nook or corner unexplored.
At length, for the third or fourth time, they descended into
the cellar. I quivered, not in a muscle, my
heartbeat as calmly as that of one whose slumbers in innocence.

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I walked the cellar from end to end.
I folded my arms upon my bosom, and roamed easily to and fro.
The police were thoroughly satisfied and prepared to
depart. The Glee at my heart was too
strong to be restrained. I burned to say but one word by

(36:07):
way of triumph, and to render doubly sure their assurance of
my guiltlessness. Gentlemen, I said at last, as
the party ascended the steps. I delight to have allayed your
suspicions. I wish you all health and a
little more courtesy. By the bye, gentlemen, this.

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This is a very well constructed house.
In the rabid desire to say something easily, I scarcely
knew what I uttered at all. I may say an excellently well
constructed house. These walls are you going,
gentlemen? These walls are solidly put
together. And here, through the mere

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frenzy of bravado, I rapped heavily with a cane which I held
in my hand upon that very portion of the brickwork behind
which stood the corpse of my wife of my bosom.
But May God shield and deliver me from the fangs of the arch

(37:12):
fiend. No sooner had the reverberation
of my blows sunk into silence than I was answered by a voice
from within the tomb, by a cry at first muffled and broken like

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the sobbing of a child, and thenquickly swelling into one long,
loud, and continuous scream, utterly anomalous and inhuman.
A howl, A wailing shriek, half of horror and half of triumph,

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such as might have arisen only out of hell, conjointly from the
throats of the damned in their agony, and of the demons that
exult in the damnation. Of my own thoughts it is folly
to speak. Swooning, I staggered to the

(38:19):
opposite wall. For an instant the party upon
the stairs remained motionless through extremity of terror and
of awe. In the next a dozen stout arms
were toiling at the wall. It fell bodily.

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The corpse, already getting decayed and clotted with gore,
stood erect before the eyes of the spectators.
Upon its head, with red extendedmouth and solitary eye of fire,
SAT the hideous beast whose craft had seduced me into

(39:05):
murder, and whose informing voice had consigned me to the
hangman. I had walled the monster up
within the tomb. Missus Davenport's Ghost by

(39:26):
Frederick P Schrader Dear readers, do you agree with
Hamlet? Do you believe that there is
more between heaven and earth than we dream of in our
philosophy? Does it seem possible to you
that Olyphus Levy conjured up the shade of Apollonius of

(39:50):
Tyana, the prophet of the Magi, in a London hotel, and at the
great sage William Crooks drank his tea at breakfast several
days a week for months in succession in the Society of the
materialized spirit of a young lady attired in white linen,

(40:12):
with a feather turban on her head, do not laugh.
Panic would seize you in the presence even of a turban
spirit. And the grotesque spectacle
would but intensify your terror.As for me, I did not laugh last
night on reading an account in aNew York newspaper of a criminal

(40:37):
trial that will probably terminate in the death penalty
of the accused. It is a sad case.
I shudder as I transcribed the records of the trial from the
testimony of the hotel waiter who heard the conversation of
the two Confederates through a keyhole, and of 40 thoroughly

(41:01):
credible witnesses who testifiedto the same facts.
What would be my feelings if I had seen the beautiful victim
with the gaping wound in her breast, into which she dipped
her finger to mark the brow of her murderer?
Part 1. About 3:00 on the afternoon of

(41:25):
February 3rd, Professor Davenport and Miss Ida
Souchette, a very pale and delicate young girl, who had
submitted to the tests of Professor Davenport for a number
of years, were finishing their dinner in their room in the
second story of a New York hotel.

(41:46):
Professor Benjamin Davenport wasa celebrity, but it was said
that he owed his fame to somewhat questionable means.
The leading spiritualists did not repose the confidence in him
that manifestly marked the regard for William Crooks or
Daniel Douglas Home. Greedy and unscrupulous mediums.

(42:12):
The author of Spiritualism in America thinks are to blame for
the most bitter attacks to whichour cause has been exposed.
When the materializations do nottake place as quickly as
circumstances require, they resort to trickery and fraud to

(42:33):
extricate themselves from a dilemma.
Professor Benjamin Davenport belonged to these versatile
mediums. Aside from this, queer stories
were afloat about him. He was secretly accused of Hwy.
robbery in South America, cheating at cards in the

(42:54):
gambling houses of San Francisco, and the over hasty
use of firearms toward persons who had never offended him.
It was said almost openly that the professor's wife had died
from abuse and grief at his infidelity.
But in spite of these annoying rumours, Mr. Davenport, by

(43:19):
virtue of his skill as a fraud and Fukur, continued to exercise
a great deal of influence upon certain plain and simple minded
folks, whom it was impossible toconvince that they had not
touched the materialized spiritsof their brothers, mothers or
sisters. Through the agency of his

(43:41):
wonderful power, his professional success received
material accession from his swarthy Mephisto like
countenance, his deep fiery eyes, his large curved nose, the
cynical expression of his mouth,and the lofty, almost prophetic

(44:02):
tone of his words. When the waiter had made his
last visit, he did not go far. The following conversation took
place in the room. There is to be a seance this
evening at the residence of Missus Harding, began the
medium. Quite a number of influential

(44:23):
people will be there, and two orthree millionaires.
Conceal under your skirt the blonde woman's wig and the white
material in which the spirits usually make their appearance.
Very well, replied Ida Suchet ina resigned tone.
The waiter heard her paste the room.

(44:44):
After a pause she asked. Whose spirit are you going to
control this evening, Benjamin? The waiter heard her loud,
brutal laugh, and the chair groaning beneath the weight of
the demonstrative professor. Guess how should I know?
She asked. I'm going to conjure up the

(45:05):
spirit of my dead wife. And another burst of laughter
issued from the room full of sinister levity.
A cry of terror burst from Ida'slips.
A muffled sound indicated to theeavesdropper at the door that
she was dragging herself to the feet of the professor.

(45:28):
Benjamin. Benjamin, don't do it, she
sobbed. Why not?
They say I'm broke. Missus Davenport's heart.
The story is damaging my reputation, but it will not be
forgotten if her spirit should dress me in terms of endearment
from the other shore in the presence of numerous witnesses.

(45:52):
For you will speak to me tenderly, will you not, Ida?
No. No, you shall not do it.
You shall not think of it. Listen to me, for God's sake.
During the four years that I have been with you, I have
obeyed you faithfully and suffered patiently.
I have lied and deceived. Like you, I learned to imitate

(46:15):
the sleep and symptoms of clairvoyance.
Tell me, did I ever refuse to serve you or utter a word of
complaint, even when my shoulders bent with the weight
of my burden? When you pierced the flesh of my
arms with knitty needles. Worse than all this, I imitated

(46:35):
distant voices behind curtains, and made mothers and wives
believe that their sons and husbands had come from a better
world to communicate with them. How often have I performed the
most dangerous feats in parlours, with the lamps turned
low, clothed in a shroud or white muslin, I essayed to

(46:58):
represent supernatural forms whom tear dimmed eyes recognised
as those of departed dear ones. You do not know what I suffered
at this unhallowed work. You scoff at the mysteries of
eternity. I suffer the torments of an
impending retribution. My God, if sometime the dead

(47:22):
whom I counterfeit should rise up before me with uplifted arms
and dreadful imprecations, this constant terror has injured my
heart. It will kill me.
I am consumed by fever. Look how emaciated, how worn out

(47:43):
and downcast I am. But I am under your control.
Do as you like with me. I am in your power, and I want
it to be so. Have I ever complained?
But do not force me to do this thing, Benjamin.
Have pity on me for what I have done for you in the past, for
what I am suffering. Do not attempt this memory.

(48:06):
Do not compel me to play the role of your dead wife, who was
so tender and beautiful. Oh, what put that thought into
your mind? Spare me, Benjamin, I implore
you. The professor did not laugh
again. Amid the confusion of upturned
articles of furniture, the eavesdropper distinguished the

(48:30):
sound of a skull striking the floor.
He concluded that Professor Davenport had knocked Miss Ida
down with a blow of his first, or had kicked her as she
approached him, but the waiter did not enter the room, as no
one rang for him. Part 2.

(48:53):
That evening 40 persons were assembled in Missus Joanne
Harding's parlour, staring at the curtain where a spirit form
was in process of materializing.One dark Lantern in a corner of
the room contributed the light that emphasized the darkness
rather than relieved it. The room was pervaded by

(49:16):
profound silence, save the quickened, suppressed breathing
of the spectators. The fire in the grate cast
mysterious rays of light, resembling fugitive spirits upon
the objects around, almost indistinguishable in the semi

(49:36):
gloom. Professor Davenport was at his
best this evening. The spirit world obeyed him
without hesitation. Like their lawful master, he was
the mighty Prince of souls. Hands that had no arms were seen
picking flowers from the vases. The touch of an invisible spirit

(50:01):
conjured sweet melodies from thekeys of the piano.
The furniture responded by intelligent wrappings to the
most unanticipated questions. The Professor himself elevated
his form in symbolical distortions from the floor to an
altitude of three feet indicatedby Missus Harding, and remained

(50:26):
suspended in the air for 1/4 of an hour, holding live coals in
his hands. Part 3.
But the most interesting, as well as the most conclusive test
was to be the materialisation ofthe spirit of Missus Arabella

(50:48):
Davenport, which the professor had promised at the beginning of
the seance. The hour has come, exclaimed the
medium, and while the hearts have all throbbed with anxious
suspense and their eyes distended with painful
expectancy of the promised materialization, Benjamin

(51:12):
Davenport stood before the curtain in the twilight.
The tall man with the dishevelled hair and demon look
was really terrible and handsomeup here.
Arabella, he exclaimed in a commanding voice, with gestures

(51:32):
of the Nazarene, of the sepulchre of Lazarus.
All are waiting. Suddenly a cry burst from behind
the curtain, a piercing, shuddering, horrible shriek, the
shriek of an expiring soul. The spectators trembled.

(51:57):
Missus Harding almost fainted. The medium himself appeared
surprised, but Benjamin recovered his composure on
seeing the curtain move and admit the spirit.
The apparition was that of a young woman with long blonde

(52:18):
tresses. She was beautiful and pale, clad
in some light whitish material. Her breast was bare, and on the
left side appeared a bleeding wound, in which trembled a
knife. The spectators arose and
retreated, pushing their chairs to the wall.

(52:43):
Those who chanced to look at themedium noticed that a deathly
pallor had overspread his face, and that he was cowering and
trembling. But the young woman, Missus
Arabella, the real one, whom he so well remembered, she had come

(53:08):
in response to his summons and advanced in a Direct Line toward
Benjamin, who in terror covered his eyes to shut out the ghastly
sight, and with a cry fled behind the furniture.

(53:29):
But she dipped the finger of herthin hand into the blood from
her wound and traced it across the brow of the unconscious
medium, the while repeating in aslow, monotonous tone that
sounded like the echo of a whaleagain and again.

(53:55):
You are my murderer. You are my murderer.
And while he was rolling and tossing in deadly terror on the
floor, they turned up the lights.
The spirit had vanished. But in the communicating room

(54:15):
behind the curtain, they found the body of poor Miss Ida
Souchette, with horribly distorted features.
A physician who was present pronounced it heartstroke, and
that is the reason that Professor Benjamin Davenport

(54:39):
appeared alone in a New York courtroom to answer to the
charge of having murdered his wife four years ago in San
Francisco. More to come.
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(56:08):
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Bonus! Halloween Episode - 2 short stories

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.css-14f5ked{margin:0;word-break:break-word;display:-webkit-box;-webkit-box-orient:vertical;box-orient:vertical;-webkit-line-clamp:2;overflow:hidden;}Bonus! Halloween Episode - 2 short stories