Fast Food Horror - Season 2 Episode 8.2 - The Tale of the House on Morrow Hill - The Second Night

Episode Transcript

(00:00):
Hey guys, it's E. J. Miller, writer, creator and producer
here at Fast Food Horror. Unfortunately, igorre Froedrick is off visiting family in
Transylvania, which leaves me to dothe honors to introduce this episode. So
here we go. Welcome to FastFood Horror. This is episode two of

(00:32):
our story entitled The Tale of theHouse on Morrow Hill. The second night,

(01:12):
as the summer sun rose the nextmorning, so thankfully to the temperature
in the room like a curtain ona stage for the second act of a
show, the ominous sounds that onceechoed throughout the house had subsided some time
earlier. So, sensing that whateverthreat there was or might be was no

(01:32):
longer that normalcy had returned, Ileft my wife asleep in bed and made
my way down to the kitchen forwhat would surely be the first of many
a cup of coffee. Not longthereafter, Steph joined me in the kitchen
and took in my bleary eyed presencesitting there in the morning silence. Unperturbed,

(01:53):
she poured herself a cup of coffeeand settled in across from me at
the breakfast Noot took her first delicatesip and asked how I slept. With
an exhausted chuckle, I went intomy now well rehearsed account of what had
happened that night, awaking with thetemperature drop of the chilled room, the

(02:15):
banging that echoed throughout the house allnight while she soundly slept unable to be
awakened. She never interrupted. Shelet me talk and took in every detail
and concern I had, sipping hercoffee as I went, and when I
was finished, she took her lastgulp and placed her mug on the table

(02:38):
and laughed and applauded. She thoughtthis was my initial attempt at writing my
novel, and I was using heras a sounding board. It took me
a while to get in a wordedgewise over her enthusiastic suggestions and questions of
where I was going with it withthe story. But when I did,
when she really saw how tired andconcerned I was, she chalked it up

(03:01):
to the ancient furnace and my exhaustionand stress over the move. Steph said
when she went into town for supplies, she would inquire at the hardware store
about furnace or heater repair companies intown that made me feel better sorta.
Steph came home a few hours later, groceries and cleaning supplies in multiple bags,

(03:23):
as I had continued to move therest of the boxes into our new
home. She reported that she founda handyman that agreed to come out at
the end of the week, buthe couldn't make it any sooner due to
his backlog of work from the holiday. That would have to do since one
of the locals told her none ofthe big fancy name heating places would come

(03:45):
all the way out here without itcosting us a pretty penny, and that
was just for the consult, noteven the repair. So the handyman waiting
game was on. That second night, though I awoke from a dead sleep
physically shaking. The chill in theair was more so than first night.

(04:06):
I found myself lying there in bedwithout a blanket or a sheet. I
searched in the dim light of theroom on the bed for either or both
of them. I searched the footof the bed to see if her or
I or both of us had kickedthem down there, but they were not
there. My wife hadn't pulled orrolled with them either, so not there.

(04:29):
I rolled to my right to mybedside night stand and activated the flashlight,
trying to control my shivering. Nowsitting up in bed, my exiled
puffs illuminated by the flashlight's beam.I scanned the room, arms clutched around
my chest, knees drawn in,searching for the sheets and blanket with the

(04:55):
tiny foam flashlight, and found themnot on the floor on the sides of
the bed. The sheets in theblanket were clear across the room in a
piled heap, like they had beenripped from the bed and thrown across the
room. I whispered my wife's nameto try and wake her, before reaching

(05:15):
across and gently rocking her awake.She did not respond. I became more
insistent with my voice, and myrocking became more of a gentle shaking nothing.
She was warm to the touch andin a deep sleep. My eyes
drifted to the screen of my phone, clutched in my hand. Two thirty

(05:40):
three a m. There had tobe a reasonable explanation as I watched the
puffs of white escape my mouth witheach exhalation, this unnatural temperature drop,
and now the sheets being ripped fromthe bed, not kicked off by one
of us, but thrown clear acrossthe room. The master bedroom wasn't exactly

(06:01):
small either. The opposite wall wasmore than fifteen feet away. I would
have to ask Steph in the morningabout that last bird. I walked across
the room, scooped up the sheetsand laid them across the bed, and
opened a window to let in theJuly warmth, then climbed back in bed
next to my wife. Just beforeI closed my eyes, it started.

(06:29):
That metallic thud from the other nightechoed throughout the house, repeating again and
again. The whack, the whack, the whack. Steff didn't stir the
whack, the whack, the whack. It was going to be another long

(06:54):
night, ditt