March 19, 2025 • 12 mins
A woman sneaks along mansion grounds, seeking entry to the house to get revenge on the evil old man living there. But her memory is wrapped in darkness. Is she doing the right thing?
Lee Clark Zumpe, an entertainment columnist with Tampa Bay Newspapers, earned his bachelor’s in English at the University of South Florida. He began writing poetry and fiction in the early 1990s. His work has regularly appeared in a variety of literary journals and genre magazines over the last two decades. Publication credits include World War Cthulhu and The Children of Gla'aki from Dark Regions Press; Through a Mythos Darkly from PS Publishing; Children of Lovecraft Country and Shadows of an Inner Darkness from Golden Goblin Press; and Corridors and The Pickman Papers from Innsmouth Gold. Lee lives on the west coast of Florida with his wife and daughter. Lee’s inclination toward horror manifested itself early in his childhood when he began flipping through the pages of Forrest J. Ackerman’s Famous Monsters of Filmland and reading Gold Key Comic classics like Boris Karloff Tales of Mystery and Grimm’s Ghost Stories. In his teenage years, he discovered Edgar Allan Poe, H.P. Lovecraft, Ambrose Bierce, Richard Matheson and other masters of the genre. Lee’s work often focuses on character interaction set against a pervading sense of cosmic dread and high strangeness.
You can read "In The Window" at https://www.kaidankaistories.com.
Website: kaidankaistories.com
Please feel free to contact me through the website contact form.
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Lee Clark Zumpe, an entertainment columnist with Tampa Bay Newspapers, earned his bachelor’s in English at the University of South Florida. He began writing poetry and fiction in the early 1990s. His work has regularly appeared in a variety of literary journals and genre magazines over the last two decades. Publication credits include World War Cthulhu and The Children of Gla'aki from Dark Regions Press; Through a Mythos Darkly from PS Publishing; Children of Lovecraft Country and Shadows of an Inner Darkness from Golden Goblin Press; and Corridors and The Pickman Papers from Innsmouth Gold. Lee lives on the west coast of Florida with his wife and daughter. Lee’s inclination toward horror manifested itself early in his childhood when he began flipping through the pages of Forrest J. Ackerman’s Famous Monsters of Filmland and reading Gold Key Comic classics like Boris Karloff Tales of Mystery and Grimm’s Ghost Stories. In his teenage years, he discovered Edgar Allan Poe, H.P. Lovecraft, Ambrose Bierce, Richard Matheson and other masters of the genre. Lee’s work often focuses on character interaction set against a pervading sense of cosmic dread and high strangeness.
You can read "In The Window" at https://www.kaidankaistories.com.
Website: kaidankaistories.com
Please feel free to contact me through the website contact form.
Follow us on:
Bluesky
Substack
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:09):
Welcome to the Kai on Kai podcast, where the eerie,
the mysterious, and the spine shilling come alive in stories
that linger long after the last word is spoken. I'm
your host, Linda Gould, and today I'm reading in the
Window by Lee Clark Zumpy. Some places are wrapped in darkness,
(00:30):
not just by the night, but by the secrets they keep.
Old Man McCready's estate is one such place. Its grand
facade hides a past thick with whispers and something very sinister,
Or does it? A woman sneaks along the mansion grounds,
seeking entry to the house to get revenge on the
(00:52):
evil old man living there, But her memory, too is
wrapped in darkness, and she's not exactly sure why she's there.
Lee Clark Zumpy is an entertainment columnist with Tampa Bay Newspapers.
His work often focuses on character interactions set against a
pervading sense of cosmic dread and high strangeness, and his
(01:16):
work has appeared regularly in a variety of literary journals
and genre magazines over the last two decades. Lee lives
on the West coast of Florida with his wife and daughter.
Say his full bio in the episode description and now
dim the lights settle in. Embrace yourself for in the
(01:38):
window by Lee Clark, Zumpy and Enjoy. Maggie found herself
squatting in front of old man McCready's estate, cowering in
the thorny bushes that his underpaid gardener kept perfectly clipped.
The bleary moon floated listlessly overhead, glimmering dimly through the
(02:02):
clouds and sparkling on cheap reproductions of neoclassical statues representing
Greek gods. The gaudy busts dotted the sprawling gardens. Shadows
billowed along the perimeter of the property, threatening to advance
without mercy. Maggie felt at home in the shadows. The
(02:23):
young woman shivered for the first time. She noticed how
unseasonably cold the night had grown, and she longed for
the comfort of a familiar quilt. She pictured herself sitting
by the hearthstone, a roaring fire warming her her cat
stretched out beside her, purring contentedly. She imagined curling up
(02:46):
with her husband, his strong arms wrapped around her. Oh God,
she missed him. Maggie shook her head. She drove all
the distractions from her mind and focused on her purpose,
scanning the windows of the antiquated mansion, looking for signs
of life. She began to edge quietly through the shrubbery. Slowly,
(03:09):
she inched her way closer to the house. That old
man lurked somewhere in the place, and she would find him.
She had long suspected that horrible things transpired at old
mcgreeedy's place. He had admitted to certain depravities during his
professional life as a mercenary, confessed freely his immoral attitude
(03:31):
and unscrupulousness, as though neither his actions nor his principles
should concern any one. When challenged, he shrugged off all
his former malevolence, as though it was a set of
clothes that he could simply dispose of at his convenience.
His eyes, though they betrayed, echoes of the wicked deeds
(03:56):
he had performed, and the tone of his voice hinted
at the abominations of which he was capable. The cancer
of his iniquity was inescapable. Thin blades of grass tickled
the soles of her feet as she sprang from the
bush and raced across the lawn. A few lampposts scattered
across the estate radiated small feeble pools of light. These
(04:20):
holes in the night she easily avoided as she skirted
the elegantly trimmed hedgeline and used dusk as her cloak.
She practically floated across the lawn, gliding stealthily and swiftly
toward Old mcgreeedy's house. Enveloped by darkness and silent as
death itself, Maggie had only one fear. She worried Old
(04:45):
mcgreedy's dogs might catch her scent and then come howling
out across the estate. She imagined that vicious pair of
hounds frothing and gnashing and barking their venomous rage tonight,
though she found the savage rock whilers were happily absent.
It struck her as peculiar that she could no longer
(05:07):
remember how she had come to be on McReady's property.
That evening. She could not recall leaving her bed or
leaving her house. She must have scaled the wall and
closing the estate, must have cut through the prickly bramble
that grew along its length. Certainly, she must have done
(05:27):
these things, as she had done before, trying to get
a glimpse into the secrets Old mccreedy kept sealed in
that bladed mansion. Yet all she remembered was opening her
eyes in that thicket, beneath that hazy moon and watercolor twilight.
Her husband floated on the perimeter of her thoughts, a
(05:48):
warm glowing candle on the far side of a shadowy chamber. Again,
she forced herself to disperse such thoughts, at least until
she had managed to find She rounded the corner of
the mansion and ran carelessly into a patch of light
spilling from a first floor window. Around the rim of
(06:08):
the light painting, the lawn, shadows lapped gently like ocean
waves at the seashore. Maggie hastily ducked for cover, taking
refuge in a dense scrap of gloom. Clinging to the
outer wall, Nestling herself into a good position, she hesitantly
peered insighed mac cready sat in a reading chair, a
(06:32):
pipe dangling from his lips. A ribbon of smoke fluttered
in the air above his head. A black cat coiled
itself about his foot. Surrounding him stood his voluminous library.
She shuddered to think what archaic tombs might pollute those shelves.
She envisioned all the world's worst grimoires collected in one den,
(06:57):
all employed by their keeper for the most od rituals
of history. She imagined texts outlining the repulsive rituals of necromancy,
blasphemous pamphlets reporting arcane lore, and vile perversions of cabalistic
traditions scribed upon moldering scrolls. Maggie eyed the old man
(07:20):
as she recoiled into the shadows. McCready reached for a
glass of red wine perched upon an end table. His
gnarled and bony fingers trembled as he grasped the goblet.
As he drew it to his lips, he winced as
if surprised by a sharp pain, and having completed the motion,
(07:42):
he sighed, clearly wearied by the effort. Seeing him like this,
Maggie suddenly realized how feeble the old man was, realized
how foolish she had been. As she turned to leave,
MacCready chanced to glance toward the window. Their eyes met. Embarrassed,
(08:05):
she blushed and froze in her tracks. The old man
gasped and the pipe tumbled from his grasp. The black
cat awoke and stretched, and its eyes followed his gaze
to the woman standing outside the window. The hair on
its back suddenly stood on end, and its fluffy tail
grew bushy. It jumped to its paws and ran from
(08:26):
the room. Maggie wanted to run, but something held her,
held her still, something about the way McCready's eyes had
ignited with recognition, how his expression had been painted by fear.
He turned away for a moment, just as his caretaker
(08:48):
marched into the room. The servant raised an eyebrow when
he saw his employer, shuddering and mumbling to himself, what's
the matter, sir? Should I ring the doctor? No? Nobot him?
Or it's just he staggered, leaning forward in his chair.
Maggie stood there, trembling, tears bubbling up in her eyes.
(09:11):
It's just that I've seen her again. Who, sir, that
poor woman? What was her name, Maggie? He spoke guardedly,
fearful his admission might give rise to accusations of mental deficiency.
But it couldn't have been her, of course, no, sir,
(09:33):
The caretaker agreed. He feigned sympathy for the old man,
surprised the incident still haunted him. Five years had passed
since mcreadie's hounds had mutilated the woman. You must stop
blaming yourself for her death. You know she had no
business wandering the grounds in the middle of the night.
Certainly not. The old man barked, his condescending demeanor, reasserting
(09:56):
itself as he dismissed the apparition as a fragment of
a fleeting dream. Damn woman cost me two perfectly good dogs, Yes, sir,
Barrymore said, dispensing McCready's nighttime assortment of medications. He waited
patiently as the old man swallowed one pill at a time,
chasing each with a sip of overpriced sparkling spring water.
(10:19):
Will there be anything else, sir No, MacCready said, discharging
the caretaker with a patronizing wave of his hand. The
old man wanted to reassure himself, to turn his gaze
back to the window to confirm that what he had
seen had been nothing more than his imagination. He lacked
(10:39):
the courage, though, knowing if he caught sight of her
cold stare again it might well be his undoing. Barramore
glanced back as he left the room, watching silently as
McCready shrank into his chair for a moment the caretaker
thought he saw something shimmer in the window. Leave me,
(11:02):
the creedy whimpered, Leave me to my thoughts. What I
loved about that story was that we never learned the
truth about the characters. Was she on a justified mission
or delusional? Was he really a depraved monster with a
(11:25):
diabolical past or just a lonely, sick old man. And
imagine for me, his comment about having to lose two
good dogs over her death makes me think he's everything
that she said he was. But then he really does
seem remorseful and afraid of her. So there's that ambiguity,
and we are still left in the dark about what
(11:46):
drove her to seek revenge, something that had to do
with her husband, but we never really know. And speaking
of revenge, it's supposed to be satisfying, isn't it a
debt paid, a balance restored? But without knowing why she
seeks revenge, we're left to question the truth behind everything
(12:10):
behind her thirst for vengeance. And so maybe that's like
the cruelest trick of all memory fades and wounds heal.
But even in death, do some emotions refuse to die?
And if so, maybe that's what drives ghosts to exist.
(12:34):
Thanks for joining us for this story. If you enjoyed
tonight's episode, please follow the podcast leave a review. I'd
love that and share it with someone who also loves
a good mystery in the dark. So until next time,
keep an eye on that nearby window for ghosts from
your past. Thank you for listening today, See you next week.
Welcome to the Kai on Kai podcast, where the eerie,
the mysterious, and the spine shilling come alive in stories
that linger long after the last word is spoken. I'm
your host, Linda Gould, and today I'm reading in the
Window by Lee Clark Zumpy. Some places are wrapped in darkness,
(00:30):
not just by the night, but by the secrets they keep.
Old Man McCready's estate is one such place. Its grand
facade hides a past thick with whispers and something very sinister,
Or does it? A woman sneaks along the mansion grounds,
seeking entry to the house to get revenge on the
(00:52):
evil old man living there, But her memory, too is
wrapped in darkness, and she's not exactly sure why she's there.
Lee Clark Zumpy is an entertainment columnist with Tampa Bay Newspapers.
His work often focuses on character interactions set against a
pervading sense of cosmic dread and high strangeness, and his
(01:16):
work has appeared regularly in a variety of literary journals
and genre magazines over the last two decades. Lee lives
on the West coast of Florida with his wife and daughter.
Say his full bio in the episode description and now
dim the lights settle in. Embrace yourself for in the
(01:38):
window by Lee Clark, Zumpy and Enjoy. Maggie found herself
squatting in front of old man McCready's estate, cowering in
the thorny bushes that his underpaid gardener kept perfectly clipped.
The bleary moon floated listlessly overhead, glimmering dimly through the
(02:02):
clouds and sparkling on cheap reproductions of neoclassical statues representing
Greek gods. The gaudy busts dotted the sprawling gardens. Shadows
billowed along the perimeter of the property, threatening to advance
without mercy. Maggie felt at home in the shadows. The
(02:23):
young woman shivered for the first time. She noticed how
unseasonably cold the night had grown, and she longed for
the comfort of a familiar quilt. She pictured herself sitting
by the hearthstone, a roaring fire warming her her cat
stretched out beside her, purring contentedly. She imagined curling up
(02:46):
with her husband, his strong arms wrapped around her. Oh God,
she missed him. Maggie shook her head. She drove all
the distractions from her mind and focused on her purpose,
scanning the windows of the antiquated mansion, looking for signs
of life. She began to edge quietly through the shrubbery. Slowly,
(03:09):
she inched her way closer to the house. That old
man lurked somewhere in the place, and she would find him.
She had long suspected that horrible things transpired at old
mcgreeedy's place. He had admitted to certain depravities during his
professional life as a mercenary, confessed freely his immoral attitude
(03:31):
and unscrupulousness, as though neither his actions nor his principles
should concern any one. When challenged, he shrugged off all
his former malevolence, as though it was a set of
clothes that he could simply dispose of at his convenience.
His eyes, though they betrayed, echoes of the wicked deeds
(03:56):
he had performed, and the tone of his voice hinted
at the abominations of which he was capable. The cancer
of his iniquity was inescapable. Thin blades of grass tickled
the soles of her feet as she sprang from the
bush and raced across the lawn. A few lampposts scattered
across the estate radiated small feeble pools of light. These
(04:20):
holes in the night she easily avoided as she skirted
the elegantly trimmed hedgeline and used dusk as her cloak.
She practically floated across the lawn, gliding stealthily and swiftly
toward Old mcgreeedy's house. Enveloped by darkness and silent as
death itself, Maggie had only one fear. She worried Old
(04:45):
mcgreedy's dogs might catch her scent and then come howling
out across the estate. She imagined that vicious pair of
hounds frothing and gnashing and barking their venomous rage tonight,
though she found the savage rock whilers were happily absent.
It struck her as peculiar that she could no longer
(05:07):
remember how she had come to be on McReady's property.
That evening. She could not recall leaving her bed or
leaving her house. She must have scaled the wall and
closing the estate, must have cut through the prickly bramble
that grew along its length. Certainly, she must have done
(05:27):
these things, as she had done before, trying to get
a glimpse into the secrets Old mccreedy kept sealed in
that bladed mansion. Yet all she remembered was opening her
eyes in that thicket, beneath that hazy moon and watercolor twilight.
Her husband floated on the perimeter of her thoughts, a
(05:48):
warm glowing candle on the far side of a shadowy chamber. Again,
she forced herself to disperse such thoughts, at least until
she had managed to find She rounded the corner of
the mansion and ran carelessly into a patch of light
spilling from a first floor window. Around the rim of
(06:08):
the light painting, the lawn, shadows lapped gently like ocean
waves at the seashore. Maggie hastily ducked for cover, taking
refuge in a dense scrap of gloom. Clinging to the
outer wall, Nestling herself into a good position, she hesitantly
peered insighed mac cready sat in a reading chair, a
(06:32):
pipe dangling from his lips. A ribbon of smoke fluttered
in the air above his head. A black cat coiled
itself about his foot. Surrounding him stood his voluminous library.
She shuddered to think what archaic tombs might pollute those shelves.
She envisioned all the world's worst grimoires collected in one den,
(06:57):
all employed by their keeper for the most od rituals
of history. She imagined texts outlining the repulsive rituals of necromancy,
blasphemous pamphlets reporting arcane lore, and vile perversions of cabalistic
traditions scribed upon moldering scrolls. Maggie eyed the old man
(07:20):
as she recoiled into the shadows. McCready reached for a
glass of red wine perched upon an end table. His
gnarled and bony fingers trembled as he grasped the goblet.
As he drew it to his lips, he winced as
if surprised by a sharp pain, and having completed the motion,
(07:42):
he sighed, clearly wearied by the effort. Seeing him like this,
Maggie suddenly realized how feeble the old man was, realized
how foolish she had been. As she turned to leave,
MacCready chanced to glance toward the window. Their eyes met. Embarrassed,
(08:05):
she blushed and froze in her tracks. The old man
gasped and the pipe tumbled from his grasp. The black
cat awoke and stretched, and its eyes followed his gaze
to the woman standing outside the window. The hair on
its back suddenly stood on end, and its fluffy tail
grew bushy. It jumped to its paws and ran from
(08:26):
the room. Maggie wanted to run, but something held her,
held her still, something about the way McCready's eyes had
ignited with recognition, how his expression had been painted by fear.
He turned away for a moment, just as his caretaker
(08:48):
marched into the room. The servant raised an eyebrow when
he saw his employer, shuddering and mumbling to himself, what's
the matter, sir? Should I ring the doctor? No? Nobot him?
Or it's just he staggered, leaning forward in his chair.
Maggie stood there, trembling, tears bubbling up in her eyes.
(09:11):
It's just that I've seen her again. Who, sir, that
poor woman? What was her name, Maggie? He spoke guardedly,
fearful his admission might give rise to accusations of mental deficiency.
But it couldn't have been her, of course, no, sir,
(09:33):
The caretaker agreed. He feigned sympathy for the old man,
surprised the incident still haunted him. Five years had passed
since mcreadie's hounds had mutilated the woman. You must stop
blaming yourself for her death. You know she had no
business wandering the grounds in the middle of the night.
Certainly not. The old man barked, his condescending demeanor, reasserting
(09:56):
itself as he dismissed the apparition as a fragment of
a fleeting dream. Damn woman cost me two perfectly good dogs, Yes, sir,
Barrymore said, dispensing McCready's nighttime assortment of medications. He waited
patiently as the old man swallowed one pill at a time,
chasing each with a sip of overpriced sparkling spring water.
(10:19):
Will there be anything else, sir No, MacCready said, discharging
the caretaker with a patronizing wave of his hand. The
old man wanted to reassure himself, to turn his gaze
back to the window to confirm that what he had
seen had been nothing more than his imagination. He lacked
(10:39):
the courage, though, knowing if he caught sight of her
cold stare again it might well be his undoing. Barramore
glanced back as he left the room, watching silently as
McCready shrank into his chair for a moment the caretaker
thought he saw something shimmer in the window. Leave me,
(11:02):
the creedy whimpered, Leave me to my thoughts. What I
loved about that story was that we never learned the
truth about the characters. Was she on a justified mission
or delusional? Was he really a depraved monster with a
(11:25):
diabolical past or just a lonely, sick old man. And
imagine for me, his comment about having to lose two
good dogs over her death makes me think he's everything
that she said he was. But then he really does
seem remorseful and afraid of her. So there's that ambiguity,
and we are still left in the dark about what
(11:46):
drove her to seek revenge, something that had to do
with her husband, but we never really know. And speaking
of revenge, it's supposed to be satisfying, isn't it a
debt paid, a balance restored? But without knowing why she
seeks revenge, we're left to question the truth behind everything
(12:10):
behind her thirst for vengeance. And so maybe that's like
the cruelest trick of all memory fades and wounds heal.
But even in death, do some emotions refuse to die?
And if so, maybe that's what drives ghosts to exist.
(12:34):
Thanks for joining us for this story. If you enjoyed
tonight's episode, please follow the podcast leave a review. I'd
love that and share it with someone who also loves
a good mystery in the dark. So until next time,
keep an eye on that nearby window for ghosts from
your past. Thank you for listening today, See you next week.
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