Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:10):
The sound you hear is a breath of warm August
wind rushing through tall grass. This is the start of October.
Pod summer's almost gone in this part of the country.
(00:36):
The weather will likely remain warm through mid October. But
in this county at least, the school starts tomorrow morning.
Why it only seems like yesterday It was June and
the school doors opened wide, and the new school year
was a billion years away. To paraphrase Ray Bradberry, summer
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with its beach trips, backyard barbecue, whose fireworks, first loves,
and heartbreaks flew past us while we weren't looking. Now
everyone is in a back to school frenzy, buying up
all the backpacks, fresh new school outfits, complete with stiff
blue jeans, solar calculators, number two pencils, and trapper keepers
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that mom and Dad's meager paychecks can afford. Do they
still make trapper keepers? I can never keep track of
what the young people are up to anymore. Here on
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this hill. The first day of school is a red
letter day. Indeed, it's the most important day of the year.
You see before me at the bottom of the hill
stand the ruins of an old schoolhouse. It used to
be the only school in town, and so all the
kids from kindergarten through twelfth grade passed through its now
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crumbling doors. At my feet lie the graves of the
towns dead, nearly all of them former students of the
old school house, which nature has reclaimed. Legend has it
that at the stroke of midnight on the eve of
the first day of school, the spirits of the dead
rise with their books slung over their stooped backs, and
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return to their old class rooms to attend lessons until dawn.
It's the one night each year they get the opportunity
to live again. It's a sight I've always wanted to see,
and so I'm here on this hill, waiting to see
if there's any truth to the legend. While we wait,
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I've prepared at Dusk till Dawn marathon of classic horror
stories to soothe the way you're back to school blues
and tied you until the start of spooky season. Our
First Tale is a classic ghost story from Scotland and
is the true story of the time a young schoolboy
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encountered the White Lady. The White Lady from Scottish ghost
Stories by Elliot O'Donnell, like most of Europe. Scotland claims
its share of phanfasms in the form of white ladies,
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both in reality and fiction. Some years ago, when I
was putting up at a friend's house in Edinburgh, I
was introduced to a man who had had several experiences
with ghosts. He related the following adventure which had befallen
him in his childhood in Roenham Avenue, near Stirling. I
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was always a lover of nature, he began, and my
earliest boyhood memories are associated with solitary rambles through the
fields and dells surrounding my home. I lived within a
stone's throw of the property of Sir e C, who
has long gone to rest. God bless his soul, and
I think it needs blessing, for if there is any
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truth in local gossip, he had lived a very queer life. Indeed,
he was held in such universal awe and abhorrence that
we used to fly at his approach and never spoke
of him amongst ourselves, saving in terms as old deer
Kreb or the lair del rowin manor House where he
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lived was a fine specimen of sixteenth century architecture, and
had it been called a castle, would have merited the
appellation far more than many of the buildings in Scotland
that bear that name. It was approached by a long
avenue of trees, gigantic elms, oaks and beeches that, uniting
their branches overhead in summer time, formed barrier to the sunshine.
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This avenue had an irresistible attraction for me. It literally
swarmed with rabbits and squirrels, and many of the times
I trespassed there to watch them. I had a very
secure hiding place in the hollow of the old oak,
where I have often been secreted, while Sir e C
and his keepers, without casting a glance in my direction,
passed unsuspectingly by vowing all sorts of vengeance against trespassers,
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but to continue. I'd often heard it rumored in the
village that Ronam Avenue was haunted, and that the apparition
was a lady in white, and no other than Sir
e Ce's wife, whose death at a very early age
had been hastened by her husband's harsh treatment. Whether Sir
e C was really as black as he was painted,
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I've never been able to ascertain the intense animosity with
which we all regarded him made us believe anything ill
of him, and we were quite ready to attribute all
the alleged hauntings in the neighborhood to his past misdeeds.
I believed my family, with scarcely an exception, believed in ghosts. Anyhow,
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the subject of ghosts was so often discussed in my
hearing that I became possessed of an ungovernable curiosity to
see one. If only the White Lady would appear in
the daytime, I thought I should have no difficulty in
satisfying this curiosity, But unfortunately, she did not appear until night,
in fact, not until long after the boys of my
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age had been ruthlessly ordered off to bed. Biding my
opportunity and waiting till my father was safely out of
the way on a visit to Grenneck, where some business
transaction would oblige him to remain for some days. I
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climbed out of my bedroom window when I deemed the
rest of the household to be sound asleep, scuttled away,
swiftly across the fields, and making short work of the
lofty wall that formed the southernmost boundary of the rhonum Estates,
quickly made my way to the avenue. It was an
ideal Sunday night in August, and hardly a sound broke
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the exquisite silence of the woods. How long I dallied
I do not know, but it must have been fully
one o'clock before I arrived at the outskirts of the avenue, and,
advancing eagerly, ensconced myself in my favorite sanctuary. The hollow
oke all was hushed and motionless, and as I gazed
into the gloom, I became conscious, for the first time
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in my life, of a sensation of eeriness. The arched
canopy of foliage overhead was strongly suggestive of a funeral pall.
Not a glimmer of moonlight penetrated through it, and all
beneath seemed to me to be buried in the silence
and blackness of the grave. The loneliness got on my nerves.
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I emerged from my retreat and was preparing to fly
through the wood, when from afar off there suddenly came
the sound of a voice, the harsh, grating voice of
a man. Convinced this time that I had been discovered
by a keeper, I jumped back into the tree, and,
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swarming up the inside of the trunk, peeped cautiously out.
What I saw nearly made me jump out of my skin,
for advancing along the avenue was the thing I had
always longed to see, and for which I had risked
so much, the mysterious far famed Lady in White, A ghost,
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an actual bonafide ghost, the Lady in White. I looked
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at her closely and noticed that she was entirely luminous,
emitting a strong phosphorescent glow, like the glow of a
glow worm, saving that it was in a perpetual state
of motion. She wore a quantity of white drapery swathed
around her, in a manner that perplexed me sorely, until
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I suddenly realized, with a creeping of my flesh, that
it must be a winding sheet, that burial accessory so
often minutely described to me by the sun of the
village undertaker. Streaming over her neck and shoulders were thick
masses of long, wavy, golden hair, which was ruffled by
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the gentle summer breeze. Her face, though terrifying by reason
of its unearthly pallor, was so beautiful that had not
some restraining influence compelled me to remain in hiding, I
would have descended from my perch to obtain a nearer
view of it. Her eyes were still firmly impressed on
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my memory. I shall never forget them, and more than
I shall forget the dainty curves of her full red
lips and the snowy whiteness of her perfect teeth. Nothing
I thought, either in earth or in Heaven, could have
been half so lovely. And I was so enraptured that
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it was not until she was directly beneath me that
I perceived she was not alone. That walking by her side,
with one arm round her waist, his face and figure
illuminated with the light from her body, was Sir e
c himself. But how changed gone? Where the black scowl,
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the savage tightening of the jaws, and the intensely disagreeable
expression that had earned for him the nickname of the
Laird Dale. And in their stead I saw love, nothing
but blind, infatuated soul, devouring love, love for which no
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words can find an adequate description. Throwing discretion to the wind,
for my excitement and curiosity had risen to the highest pitch,
I now thrust more than half my body out of
the hole in the trunk. The next instant, with a
cry of dismay, I pitched head first on to the ground.
On regaining the few wits I could lay claim to,
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I fully expected to find myself in the hands of
the irate laird. Too frightened to move, I lay absolutely
still with my eyes shut. But as the minutes glided
by and nothing happened, I picked myself up. All was
quiet and pitch dark. Not a vestinge of the lady
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in white, not a vestige of Sir e C. I
ran all the way home, and as it was still early,
far too early for any of the household to be
astir I crept up to my bedroom unobserved. But not
to sleep, Oh dear me, no, not to sleep for
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the moment I blew the candle out and got into bed.
Reaction set in, and I suffered agonies of fear. When
I went to school in the morning, bubbling over with
excitement to tell the boys what had happened, I received
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another shock. I was told, with a roar and shout
that almost broke the drum of my ears, that the
old Lairdale was dead. His body had been found stretched
on the ground a few feet from the hollow oak
in the avenue shortly after sunrise. He had died from
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a sudden heart attack, and so the doctor said that
had probably been caused by a shock, some severe mental shock.
I did not tell my schoolmates of my night's adventure,
after all, my eagerness to do so had departed when
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I heard of the old laird's death. It's almost midnight.
I wonder when the action starts. The ghosts are ready
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to move. You can feel it in the air, like
static electricity before a lightning strike. They should be waking
up to start there. Back to school party any moment now.
Speaking of waking the dead, our next horror classic from
the pin of Edgar Allan Poe, serves as an introductory
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course on how not to wake the dead. Of course,
I won't pretend. It's no matter for wonder that the
extraordinary case of mister Valdemar has excited discussion. It would
have been a miracle had it not, especially under the circumstances.
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But it has become necessary for me to give the facts,
as far as I comprehend myself. They are succinctly these
the case of mister Valdemar, adapted especially for October pod
by John Eiger from the classic tale by Edgar Allan Poe,
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narrated by Edward October. My area of expertise is mesmerism,
and about nine months ago it occurred to me that
of all the experiments I'd studied, no person as yet
has been mesmerized in articulo mortis. It remained to be
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seen first whether in such condition the patient responded to
mesmeric influences. Secondly, whether mesmerism had any effect installing or
accelerating death. Thirdly, to what extent and for how long
might be this process prolonged life. My friend mister Ernest Valdemar,
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the well known compiler of the Bibliotheca Forensica and author,
under the pen name Isaacer Martz, of the Polish versions
of Wallenstein and Gargantua, was to be my test subject.
Mister Valdemar, a resident of Harlem, New York, is Or,
was particularly noticeable for his extreme and sparse appearance. He
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had a nervous temperament, which rendered him a good subject
for mesmeric experiments. On two or three occasions I had
put him to sleep with little difficulty, but was otherwise disappointed.
His will was at no period under my control. And
in regard to clairvoyance, I could produce no reliable results.
I always attributed my failure at these points to his
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poor health. For some months previous to my becoming acquainted
with him, his physicians had declared he had not long
to live. They said he would be fortunate to make
it to the end of the year, and even then
if all went well. Mister Valdemar spoke calmly of his
approaching death, an outcome neither to be avoided nor regretted.
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So when the idea for this experiment came to me,
it was of course very natural that I should think
of mister Valdemar. I knew the man well enough to
conclude that he'd have no philosophical objection to it, and
he had no relatives in the States who would be
likely to interfere. I spoke to him frankly upon the subject,
and to my surprise, he took an interest. The progression
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of symptoms for the disease from which he was suffering
made it easy to approximate how much longer he had
to live. Seven months ago I got word that his physicians,
Doctor D and Doctor F, had agreed that he would
not hold out more than one more night. Within three
quarters of an hour, I was in the dying man's chamber.
I had not seen him for ten days, and I
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was appalled by the state of him. His face was leaden,
the eyes were without luster, and he was so emaciated
that the skin had been broken through by the cheekbones.
His pulse was barely perceptible. Nevertheless, he retained both his
mental power and a certain degree of physical strength. He
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spoke clearly, and when I entered the room, he was
jotting some memoranda in his journal. Doctors D and F
were in attendance. After pressing Valdemar's hand, I took his
doctor's aside and obtained from them a detailed account of
the patient's condition. The left lung had been for eighteen
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months in a semi osseous or cartilaginous state, and was
for all intents and purposes useless, and the right in
its upper portion, was also partially, if not thoroughly, ossified,
while the lower region was not much better. They also
suspected aneurysm of the paper order. It was the opinion
of both physicians that mister Valdemar would die at about
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midnight on Sunday. Before speaking to me, Doctors D and
F had bidden their patient a final farewell. It had
not been their intention to return, but at my insistence,
they agreed to look in on him. At about ten
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o'clock the next night, when they had gone, I spoke
freely with mister Valdemar about his approaching death and about
my proposed experiment. He was still quite willing to participate
and urged me to commence at once. I did postpone
operations until about eight the next night. A medical student
I trusted, mister L arrived to serve as a reliable
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witness should any unforeseen accident occur. I'd originally planned to
wait until doctors D and F returned, but mister Valdemar
insisted that we had not a moment to lose. As
a matter of fact, he appeared to be sinking fast.
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Mister L agreed to take notes of all that occurred,
and the following details come directly from his notes. At
five minutes to eight, I asked mister Valdemar to state
for the record that he was willing to undergo the experiment.
He said that yes, he wished to be mesmerized, but
then added but I fear you've deferred it too long.
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I began the mesmeric passes, which I had already found
most effective in subduing him. I exerted all my powers,
but no perceptible effect was induced until several minutes after
ten o'clock, when doctors D and F arrived. I explained
the experiment to them, making it clear that the patient
had consented to it. They made no objection, saying that
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the patient was very nearly in the death agony, and
so I proceeded without hesitation. I transitioned from making the
lateral mesmeric passes to downward ones, and directed my gaze
entirely into the right eye of the patient. His pulse
was now imperceptible and his breathing slowed. He remained in
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this condition for a quarter of an hour. Then a
very deep sigh escaped from the dying man, and his
extremities turned icy. Just before eleven, I was able to
produce a tangible mesmeric influence. The glassy roll of the
eye changed to an expression of uneasy inward examination, which
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is quite impossible to mistake. With a few rapid lateral passes,
I made the eyelids quiver and with a few more,
I closed them altogether. I continued the manipulations until I
had completely stiffened the limbs of the patient, after placing
them in a comfortable position. When I had accomplished this,
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it was fully midnight night, and I asked the physicians
to examine mister Valdemar's condition. They concurred that he was
in an unusually perfect state of mesmeric trance. Their curiosity
was now piqued. Doctor D decided to remain with the
patient all night, while Doctor F excused himself and promised
to return at daybreak. Mister L, the nurses, and I
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also remained. We left mister Valdemar entirely undisturbed until about
three a m. When I approached him and found him
in the same position. The pulse was imperceptible, the breathing
was gentle, the eyes were closed naturally, and the limbs
were as rigid and as cold as marble. Still, the
general appearance was certainly not that of death. Mister Valdemar,
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I said, are you asleep? He made no answer, but
I noticed a tremor about the lips. I repeated the
question until his whole frame began to shiver. His eyelids
opened just enough to display a white line of the eyeball.
The lips moved sluggishly, and he.
Speaker 2 (23:04):
Whispered, yes, asleep, Now, do not wake me, Let me
die like this.
Speaker 1 (23:19):
I felt his limbs and found them as rigid as ever.
Do you still feel a pain in your chest, mister Valdemar, No, pang,
I am dying. I didn't disturb him again until the
arrival of mister F, who came a little before sunrise,
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astonished to find his patient still alive. After feeling the pulse,
he asked me to speak to him again. I asked,
mister Valdemar, do you still sleep? Several minutes elapsed before
a reply was made, and during the interval the dying
man seemed to be collecting his energies to speak.
Speaker 2 (24:05):
Yes, still asleep, dying.
Speaker 1 (24:14):
At this point, the doctors asked that mister Valdemar not
be disturbed until the moment of his death or his dissolution,
as doctor F put it, which given the progression of
the patient's symptoms, might be at any moment. Still, I
asked him one last time if he was still asleep.
While I spoke, a change of expression fell over his face.
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The eyes rolled open, the pupils disappearing upwardly. The skin
became white as paper. The upper lip, at the same
time writhed itself away from the teeth, and the lower
jaw fell open with an audible jerk, leaving the mouth
wide enough to offer a full view of the swollen
and blackened tongue. None of us present were unaccustomed to
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such deathbed horrors. So hideous was the appearance of mister
Valdemar that we all took a step back. I now
feel that I have reached a point in this narrative
at which every reader will be startled into disbelief. It
is my business, however, simply to proceed. There was no
longer any sign of life in mister Valdemar, and pronouncing
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him dead, we let the nurses take over, but they
quickly pointed out a strong motion in his tongue. This
continued for perhaps a minute, and then came from his
motionless jaws a voice, a voice so terrifying that I
cannot begin to describe it without going mad. The voice
seemed to reach our ears, my ears, at least from
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a vast distance, or from the depths of the cavern,
far within the earth. Now I've used the terms sound
and voice. What I mean to say is that the
sound was both distinct and verbal. Mister Valdemar spoke, though
his mouth did not move, in answer to my question,
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which was do you sleep?
Speaker 3 (26:13):
Yes?
Speaker 1 (26:15):
No, I have been sleeping, and now now I am dead.
No one there could deny the shuddering horror of those
few words. Mister L, the med student swooned. The nurses
left the chamber, and I was speechless. When mister L recovered,
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we investigated Valdemar's condition. It was unchanged. There was no
pulse and no breath. We tried and failed to draw blood.
All attempts at mesmeric commands were futile. The only real
indication of the mesmeric influence was a slight vibration of
the tongue. Whenever I asked Valdemar a question, he seemed
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to be making an effort to reply, but had no
energy to do so. I believe that I have now
related all that is necessary to understanding Valdemar's state. At
that moment, a new shift of nurses arrived, and at
ten o'clock I left the house in company with the
two physicians and mister l From that moment until the
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close of last week, a period of nearly seven months,
we continued to make daily calls at mister Valdemar's house.
All this time, the sleep waker remained exactly as I
have last described him. Under the supervision of the nurses.
Last Friday we attempted to awaken him. And it is
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perhaps the unfortunate result of this final experiment which has
given rise to grotesque discussion in private circles. For the
purposes of relieving mister Valdemar from his trance, I made
the use of the customary passes. These were unsuccessful at first.
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Early indication of revival included a partial descent of the iris.
This lowering of the pupil was accompanied by a flow
of a pungent yellow fluid or icker, as one of
the nurses had called it, from beneath the eyelids. Doctor
f suggested, I ask a question. I asked, mister Valdemar,
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can you express your feelings or wishes to us? The
tongue rolled violently in the mouth, although the jaws and
lips remained rigid as before, and at length, the same
hideous voice which I have already described broke.
Speaker 4 (28:45):
Forth, quick, quick, for God's sake, quick quickly or quick
quick quick, I said, your death quickly.
Speaker 1 (29:00):
I tried to put the patient back to sleep, but
failing in this, I reversed course and struggled to awaken him.
None of us were prepared for what happened next. Bad dead, dead,
going to sleep, gold quick quick, a wakening dud dad,
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all at once. It had to have happened in less
than a minute. Valdemar's body shrank, crumbled, absolutely, rotted away
beneath my hands. We all looked on in horror as
his body melted upon the bed into a gelatinous mass
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of loathsome of detestable putressence. This graveyard on the hill
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is beautiful on such a bright moonlit night. It's an
ideal night for backpacking if you're into that sort of thing.
And Walt's back to school shopping without getting a new backpack. Sure,
the old one's just fine, But each year the books
get heavier, and Mom worries just a little bit more
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about the straps being able to hold. Our next tale
begins with a backpacking adventure on the moor and ends
with a man confronting his destiny. I wanted to be alone.
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I hastily packed up my knapsack, and taking the train
to Westmoreland, I began my tramp in a search of solitude,
bracing air, and romantic surroundings. There are many places I
might have come upon during that early summer wandering, but
fate was driving me to this cottage on the moor,
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and no man can resist his destiny. One day I
found myself on a wide and pathless moor near the sea.
I had slept the night before at a small hamlet,
but that was already eight miles behind me, and since
I had turned my back upon it, I had not
seen any signs of humanity. I was alone, with a
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fair sky above me, a balmy wind blowing over stony
heather clad bounds, and nothing to disturb my meditations. How
far the more stretched I had no knowledge. I only
knew that by keeping a straight line I could come
to the ocean cliffs. Then, perhaps, after a time, arrived
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at some fishing village. I had provisions in my knapsack,
and being young, I did not fear a night under
the stars. I was inhaling the delicious summer air and
once more getting back the vigor and happiness I had lost.
My brains that had been numbed by city life began
to wake up. Thus, hour after hour slid past me
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until I covered about fifteen miles since morning. When I
saw before me in the distance a solitary stone built
cottage with roughly slated roof, I quickened my steps towards
it with some vague notion of camping there, if possible
to one in search of a quiet, free life. Nothing
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could have possibly been more suitable than this cottage. It
stood on the edge of lofty cliffs, with its front
door facing the moor, and the back yard wall overlooking
the ocean. The sound of the dancing waves struck upon
my ears like a lullaby as I drew near. How
they would thunder when strong gales came on the sea.
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Birds fled shrieking to the shelter of the sedges. A
small garden spread in front, surrounded by a dry stone wall,
just high enough for one to lean lazily upon when inclined.
This garden was a flame color scarlet, predominating with those
other soft shades that cultivated poppies take on in their blooming.
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For this was all that the garden grew. As I approached,
taking notice of this singular assortment of poppies and the
orderly cleanness of the windows. The front door opened and
a woman appeared, who impressed me at once favorably as
she leisurely came along the pathway to the gate and
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drew it back as if to welcome me. She was
of middle age and young must have been remarkably handsome.
She was tall and still shapely, with smooth, clear skin,
regular features, and calm expression that at once put me
at ease. She said she could give me both a
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sitting and bedroom, and invited me inside to see them.
As I looked at her smooth black hair and cool
brown eyes, I felt that I would not be too
particular about the accommodation with such a landlady. I was
sure to find what I was seeking here. The room
surpassed my expectation, dainty white curtains and bedding with the
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perfume of lavender about them, a sitting room, homely yet
cozy without being crowded. With a sigh of infinite relief,
I flung down my knapsack and clinched the bargain. As
she was a widow with one daughter whom I did
not see that first day, as she was unwell and
confined to her own room. But on the next day
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she was somewhat better, and then we met. The meals
they served me were simple ones, yet they suited me
delicious milk and butter with homemade scones, fresh eggs and bacon.
After a hearty tea, I went to bed in a
condition of perfect content with my quarters. Yet happy and
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tired out as I was, I had by no means
a comfortable night. This I put down to the strange bed.
Of course, I did sleep, but my sleep was filled
with dreams so wild that I woke late and unrefreshed.
Good walk on the moor would surely restore me. The
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loneliness of the moor, with the singing of the ocean,
had gripped my heart with a wistful longing. The incongruity
of those flaunting and evanescent poppy flowers dashing the giddy
tints in the face of that sober gray heath touched
me with a shiver. As I approached the cottage, I'd
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worked up a fine appetite for breakfast. It was over
breakfast that I was introduced to the landlady's daughter, Ariadne,
and in that moment I succumbed instantly to her weird charms.
She was in somewhat better health this morning, and felt
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well enough to breakfast with me. In fact, we would
eat all of our meals together while I was a
lodger there. Ariadne was not beautiful in any conventional sense,
her complexion being too lividly white and her expression too
set to be quite pleasant at first sight. Yet, as
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her mother had informed me, she had been ill for
some time, which accounted for that slight defect. Her features
were not regular, Her hair and eyes seemed too black
with that strangely white skin, and her lips a trifle
too red. Her beauty was more haunting than classical, otherworldly alien.
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Arietne rose from her chair as her mother introduced her,
and smiled while she held out her hand for me
to clasp. Cold and delicate and soft as a snowflake,
A faint thrill tingled over me and rested on my heart,
stopping for the moment in its beating. This contact seemed
also to have affected her as it did me. A
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clear flush like a white flame, lighted up her face
so that it glowed her black eyes became softer as
our glances crossed, and her scarlet lips grew moist. She
was a living woman now, while before she had seemed
half a corpse. She permitted her slender hand to remain
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in mine longer than most people do at an introduction,
and then she slowly withdrew it, still holding me with
steadfast eyes for a second or two afterwards. Fathomless, velvety
eyes these were, Yet before they were shifted from mine,
they appeared to have absorbed all my will power and
made me her abject slave. They looked like deep, dark
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pools of clear water. Yet they filled me with fire
and deprived me of strength. I sank languidly into my chair,
as if in a swoon. Yet I ate a hearty breakfast,
and although she hardly tasted anything, this strange girl rose
much refreshed, and with a slight glow of color on
(38:52):
her cheeks. I had come here seeking solitude, but since
I had seen Ariadne, it seemed as if I had
come for her.
Speaker 5 (39:00):
Only.
Speaker 1 (39:01):
She was not very lively. She answered my questions and monosyllables,
yet she was insinuating and appeared to lead my thoughts
in her direction. Indeed, she spoke to me with her eyes.
I cannot describe her minutely. I only know that from
the first glance and touch she gave me, I was
(39:23):
bewitched and could think of nothing but her. It was
a rapid, distracting and devouring infestation that possessed me all
(39:44):
day long. I followed her about like a lapdog. Every
night I dreamed of that white, glowing face, those steadfast
black eyes, those moist scarlet lips, and each morning I
rose feeling more languid than I had the day before.
Sometimes I dreamt that she was kissing me with those
(40:04):
red lips, while I shivered at the contact of her
silky black tresses as they covered my throat. Sometimes I
dreamed that we were floating in the air, her arms
about me and her long hair enveloping us both like
an inky cloud, while I lay helpless as an infant.
(40:27):
Ariadne went with me after breakfast on that first day
to the moor, and before we came back, I had
confessed my love and received her assent. I held her
in my arms and had taken her kisses in answer
to mine. I never once thought it strange that all
(40:47):
this had happened so quickly, she was mine, or rather
I was hers. Without a pause, I told her it
was fate that had sent me to her, for I
had no doubts about my love, and she replied that
I had restored her to life, acting upon Ariadne's advice,
(41:12):
and also from a natural shyness. I did not inform
her mother how quickly matters had progressed between us. Yet,
although we both acted as circumspectly as possible, I had
no doubt my landlady could see how engrossed we were
in each other. Lovers are not unlike ostriches in the
clumsiness of their concealment. I was not afraid of asking
(41:35):
for Ariadne's hand so far as social position was concerned.
After all, there could be no real objection to our marriage.
They lived in this lonely spot for the sake of
their health, and kept no servant because they could not
get any to take service so far away from other humanity.
My coming had surely been opportune and welcome to both
(41:57):
mother and daughter. Four hour decorum. However, I resolved to
delay my confession for a week or two until some
favorable opportunity of doing so discreetly presented itself. Meanwhile, Ariadne
and I passed the days in the thoroughly idle fashion
of a lotus eater. Each night I retired to bed thirstily,
(42:19):
drinking down a warm night cap. It tasted like an
exceedingly tart mulled wine, which was always waiting on the
bedside table. Each morning, I rose languid from the disturbing dreams,
with no thought for anything outside my love. Ariadne grew
stronger every day while I appeared to be taking her
(42:41):
place as the invalid. Yet I was more frantically in
love than ever, and only happy when I was at
her side. She was my lone star, my only joy,
my life. We did not travel great distances, for I
liked best to lie on the dry heath and watch
(43:01):
her glowing face and intense eyes while I listened to
the surging of the distant waves. Love made me lazy,
like a house cat basking in the sunshine. I had
been enchanted quickly. My disenchantment came with equal speed, although
(43:22):
it was long before the poison left my blood altogether.
One night, about a couple of weeks after my coming
to the cottage, I returned from a moonlight walk with Ariadne.
The night was warm and the moon full, so I
(43:46):
left my bedroom window open to let in what little
air there was. I was more fatigued than usual, so
much so that I had only strength enough to remove
my boots and coat before I flung myself on the
coverlet and fell instantly asleep, without first tasting the nightcap,
which was my usual custom to imbibe. I had a
(44:08):
ghastly dream this night. I thought I saw a monster
bat with the face of Ariadne, fly into the open
window and to fasten its needle, sharp white teeth and
scarlet lips on my arm. I tried to beat the
horror away, but could not, for I seemed chained and
(44:31):
enthralled in some damnable ecstasy. As the beast sucked my
blood with a gruesome rapture. I looked out dreamily and
saw a line of dead bodies of young men lying
on the floor, each with a red mark on their arms,
on the same spot where the vampire was then sucking me.
In a flash, I understood the reason for my strange weakness,
(44:54):
and at the same moment, a sudden prick of pain
roused me from my dreamy pleasure. The vampire in her
eagerness had bitten a little too deeply that night, unaware
that I had not consumed the drug that had been
dissolved in my nightcap. As I awoke, I saw her
fully revealed by the moonlight, with our black tresses flowing,
(45:17):
tangled with gore, her red lips glued to my arm.
With a shriek of horror, I dashed her backwards, getting
one last glimpse of her savage eyes, glowing white face,
and blood stained red lips. Monsters do have their place
in the zoo, in your nightmares, in the deep, in
(45:39):
your favorite horror movies, but not on your phone during
an ad break. Politically motivated interests are seeking to influence
you through the ads placed on this podcast. Hi, I'm
your host Edward October, reminding you that we have very
limited control over the ads you hear on October Pod.
(45:59):
Please lease remember that only the ads and promos I
read with my own voice carry the endorsement of Edward
October and October Pod. Furthermore, I and the makers of
October Pod repudiate any entity advertised which seeks to promote hatred,
anti American, or anti democratic sentiments, or the spread of
(46:20):
misinformation now with that in mind, October Pod will return
after this brief ad break. It's intermission time, folks. I'm
(46:41):
your host, mister Edward October. You still have a few
moments to visit the snack bar before Act two of
October Pod begins. This intermission is brought to you by
our friends at Ray Market Plaza and the Green County
Regional Chamber of Commerce.
Speaker 6 (47:02):
Back to School is right around the corner. Stock up
on everything you need at the Ray Market Plaza on
Old Spanish Highway. Visit the restaurants and boutiques of the
Ray Market Plaza to find all your shopping, dining, fun
and fare prices. To make your back to school shopping
trip of breeze. Pop into Rosie's Rag Patch to buy
the latest fashions and accessories to give your kids a
(47:25):
fresh new look this school year. Now through September first,
Rosie is offering fifty percent off select boystops, fifteen to
twenty percent off casual slacks, girls dresses half off the
original ticket price, and Rambler jeanes for the whole family.
Looking for school supplies. Spunk Meers Pharmacy has all the
(47:47):
gear you need to put you in the head of
the class. Spunck Myers has the largest selection of clapper
Keeper brand finders, lunchboxes, and thermoses in Green County. Choose
from your favorite cartoon and comic strip characters, including Nutso,
Captain Demeter, Lady skunk Ape, and more. Getting angry from
(48:08):
all that shopping, well, Humburgers, We'll have you sing in
a different tune. Receive ten percent off your Aria Burger
combo meal with your purchase of a clapper Keeper or
lunch box from Spunckmeier's Pharmacy. Or receive twenty percent off
any Lento box meal with your purchase of Rambler jeans
from Rosy's Rag Patch when it won per customer Proof
(48:30):
of purchase necessary, void where prohibited. Find all this and
more at Ray Market Plaza on Old Spanish Highway this year,
make Ray Market Plaza your back to school headquarters.
Speaker 1 (48:47):
Last call, folks, Why not satisfy your cravings with a
sizzling hot dog with chilling mustard and onions and all
your favorite fixings. Give your evening a South of the
Border flare with Chris be nachos with spicy jlipinos and smooth,
creamy and oh so cheesy caeso Quesadia cheese popcorn is
(49:09):
always a crowd pleaser. Get yours freshly popped and drenched
in real movie theater butter. Wash it down with a
sparkling ice cold soda. Got a sweet tooth. Satisfy it
now with our taste tempting assortment of candy, ice cream
and confections. Or take the edge off with a good smoke.
Our courteous refreshment stand staff has all your favorite cigarettes
(49:32):
on hand. Whatever you choose, better get it quick, because
Act two of October Pod starts now. And welcome back, folks.
(50:03):
I'm your host, mister Edward October. I'm standing in a
moonlit graveyard on a hill overlooking an abandoned schoolhouse. Generations
of the townsfolk went to this school before it fell
into ruin Well. School is back in session, and the
inhabitants of these graves have risen from the earth like vapor.
(50:25):
They have their books, they have their note books and pencils,
and they're slowly making their way to class. They have
until dawn to live again, to be school children again,
to laugh and love and learn again. While these restless
souls make their back to school pilgrimage, Let's listen to
(50:47):
another story. You know, when I was a boy, the
teachers would sometimes roll out a projector and a cassette
tape player. Narration would accompany each slide, and when you'd
hear a specific beep, that would is your cue to
advance to the next slide. We also had those read
along storybook records, you know the kind where you'd listen
(51:08):
to a narrator reading the story on our record or
tape while following along in the illustrated book. From time
to time, you'd hear a sound effect reminding you to
turn the page. Our next classic horror story was adapted
for October Pod with those story book and record sets
in mind, enjoy hop Frog and Tripetta. You can follow
(51:44):
along in the book. When you hear this sound, it's
time to turn the page. Let's begin. Long ago, there
was a kingdom, which you can now remember. The ruler
of this realm was a king who enjoyed a joke
(52:06):
more than any one. The king and his ministers were
all accomplished jokers, and they were all large, oily men.
The king didn't care for witty jokes so much. No,
the King's tastes were better suited to practical jokes. In
those days, professional jesters were quite fashionable at court. Several
(52:32):
of these fools wore motley with caps and bells, and
were expected to always be ready with sharp wit, and they,
of course were rewarded with the crumbs that fell from
the royal table. The king's fool was a strange little
dwarf named hop Frog. Dwarves were common at court in
(52:54):
those days, and the royalty loved to laugh at them.
Of course, hop Frog was not his real name. It
was a nickname he earned because he walked with a
limp that resembled a sort of hop and wriggle that
amused the king in his court to no end. But
(53:14):
in spite of hop Frog's twisted legs, he had incredibly
strong arms, which enabled him to climb and caper about
like a squirrel or a small monkey. No one knows
what country hop Frog came from. I'm sure it was
some savage region that no one has ever heard of.
(53:36):
Hop Frog and a young girl named Trippetta, who was
not quite so small as himself, had been stolen away
from their homes by a courageous general and delivered as
presents to the King. Naturally, hop Frog and Trippetta became
close friends. Hop Frog was always the butt of a joke,
(54:00):
but Tripetta, although a dwarf, was universally admired and petted
upon due to her grace and beauty. This gave her
some measure of influence, which she always used to hop
Frog's benefit. On some grand occasion, I forget what, the
(54:22):
King threw a masquerae which required the talents of both
hop Frog and Tripetta. Hop Frog was great and making
masked balls even more fun. Finally, the night of the
masquerade arrived. Trapetta was in charge of decorating the Great Hall.
(54:43):
The King's ministers and other honored guests waited until the
last minute to decide upon their characters and costumes, and
so hop Frog and Tripetta were employed to help costume
them all. The King summoned the two little friends to
his table, where he sat with seven members of his council. Come,
(55:08):
hop Frog, cried the king. Help us be merry. We're
bored of the same old jests. We want characters, characters,
man something novel. Come and have some wine. It will
brighten your wit. Drink to absent friends. It happened to
(55:31):
be the poor dwarf's birthday and the command to drink
to his absent friends. Brought tears to his eyes as
he took the cup from the hand of the tyrant.
Ha roared the king. See what a good wine can do.
Your eyes are shining already, Poor sad hop Frog, his
(55:56):
eyes moist with tears, he placed the nervously on the
table and looked about the room with a funny, crazed
look on his face. I've just thought of a novel, jest,
said the dwarf, in a bit of a daze. Er excellent,
(56:17):
roared the king. But first, have some more wine, and
he poured another goblet to the dwarf, who merely stared
at it with dread, for it was well known that
hop Frog disliked drinking drink, I say, shouted the monster,
or by the fiends. The dwarf hesitated. The king grew
(56:43):
purple with rage. The courtiers smirked. Tripetta, pale as a corpse,
advanced to the monarch's seat, and, falling on her knees
before him, implored him to spare her friend. The tyrant
regarded her for some moments in evident wonder at her audacity.
(57:08):
He seemed quite at a loss want to do or say,
how most becomingly to express his indignation. At last he
pushed her violently from him, and threw the whine in
her face. The poor girl got up the best she could, and,
(57:29):
not daring even to sigh, resumed her position at the
foot of the table. There was a dead silence for
about half a minute, during which the falling of a
leaf or of a feather might have been heard. It
was interrupted by a low but harsh, grating sound, which
(57:52):
seemed to come at once from every corner.
Speaker 3 (57:55):
Of the room.
Speaker 1 (57:57):
What are you making that noise? For, demanded the King,
turning furiously to hop Frog. And now the dwarf laughed.
The king was too confirmed a joker to object to
any one's laughing, and displayed a set of large, powerful teeth.
And now he began to swallow as much wine as desired.
(58:21):
Just after your majesty had struck the girl and thrown
the wine in her face, said hop Frog, I remembered
a frolic from my native land, often enacted among us
at our masquerades. But here it will be new altogether. Unfortunately, however,
it requires eight persons here we are, cried the king,
(58:47):
laughing at his acute discovery of the coincidence. What is
the jest we call it, replied the dwarf, the eight
chained uramutans. And it really is excellent sport, if well enacted.
We will enact it, remarked the king, drawing himself up.
(59:11):
The beauty of the game, continued hop Frog lies in
the way it frightens the ladies. Capital roared in chorus
the monarch and his ministry, I will dress you as
ura mutans, said hop Frog. The resemblance shall be so
striking that the masqueraders will take you for real beasts,
(59:35):
and of course they will be as much terrified as astonished.
Oh this is exquisite, exclaimed the king hop Frog. I
will make a man of you. Yet the chains will
jangle and cause confusion. You are supposed to have escaped
from your keepers. Just imagine eight chain ur ramutans, imagined
(01:00:02):
to be real ones, rushing about with savage cries among
civilized ladies and gentlemen. Hop Frog disguised the men as
urang utans using a simple method. In those days, few
people in this kingdom had ever seen a real urangatan,
(01:00:26):
and such people were easy to fool. The king and
his ministers were wrapped in tight fitting shirts and breeches
and then soaked with tar. Hop Frog then applied a
thick coating of flax to represent the hair. Then the
dwarf took a long chain and wrapped it around the
(01:00:48):
waist of the king and tied and then passed around
to the ministers next to him, and so on. Then
hop Frogs seized the remaining chain and led the urang
Utans as if on a leash. The masqueraine was held
(01:01:13):
in the circular grand salon at night. This lofty room
was illuminated by a large chandelier hanging from a chain
and counterbalance system that passed outside the cupola and over
the roof. Cherpetta had overseen the arrangements of the room.
(01:01:35):
She had the chandelier removed. The room was instead lit
by sconces and some fifty or sixty other free standing
braziers and candelopum. According to hop Frog's instructions, the urang
Utans waited until midnight, when the room would be full
of masqueraders, before making their appearance. When the clock struck twelve,
(01:02:02):
they rushed in altogether. Many of them tripped over the
chains and stumbled or fell. Many of the guests supposed
them to be beasts of some kind. Many of the
ladies swooned with fear. A general rush was made for
(01:02:23):
the doors, but the king had ordered them locked, and
the keys had been given to hop Frog. The chain
by which the chandelier ordinarily hung slowly descended until the
hook at one end hovered three feet above the door.
(01:02:44):
The king and his seven friends were soon in contact
with the chandelier chain. While assisting with the jest, hop
Frog crept among them unnoticed, and hooked their chain to
the one which hung from the ceiling. The masqueraders, now
(01:03:05):
convinced they had been deceived, began to laugh. Leave them
to me. Now, screamed hop Frog, I think I know them.
If I can only get a good look at them,
I can soon tell who they are. He scrambled over
the heads of the crowd and seized a torch. He returned,
(01:03:28):
leaping and capering, and examined them in the light of
the guttering flame. I shall soon find out who they are.
And now the room was filled with laughter, and the
jester uttered a shrill whistle. Now the chandelier chain flew
up thirty feet, dragging with it the struggling suscended, and
(01:03:58):
the skylight and the floor. Hop Frog, clinging to the
chain as it rose, thrust his torch down toward them.
The silence which had settled upon the masquerade when the
chain ascended, was broken by the low, harsh, grating sound
(01:04:18):
that the king had heard after throwing wine in the
face of tripetta. But now it was obvious that it
was the sound of the dwarf grating and gnashing his teeth.
Hop Frog held the torch to the king's flaxen disguise,
which then burst into a vivid flame. In an instant,
(01:04:42):
all aid were blazing amid the shrieks of the masqueraders below,
who were helpless to offer them aid. At length, the
flames forced the gesture to climb higher up the chain.
I now see distinctly, cried the jester. What manner of
(01:05:03):
people these are? They are a great king and his
seven councilors, a king who does not hesitate to strike
a defenseless girl, and his seven councilors who are complicit
in the outrage. As for myself, I am simply hop Frog,
the jester, And this is my last jest. The eight
(01:05:27):
charred corpses swung in their chains fetid, blackened, hideous, an
indistinguishable mass of putrescence. Hop Frog hurled his torch at
them and climbed to the ceiling, then disappeared through the skylight.
(01:05:52):
And so hop Frog and Tripetta fled to their own country,
and they lived happily ever after. That rusty schoolhouse bell
(01:06:21):
is in such a state of disrepair that it's physically
impossible for it to ring, And yet I bet you
can hear it ringing for miles. The ghosts are in
their seats now in school for them, at least for
just this one night is back in session. Primary school
kids aren't the only ones heading back to school soon.
(01:06:43):
I dare say that college students are packing up their
cars with laundry baskets full of brick a brac and
formulating plans to hit up the local Target or Ikia
to buy cheap plastic housewares to furnish their dorm rooms.
They'll probably need to hit the shop opera so they
can stock up on instant rahmen and cheap beer. Our
(01:07:05):
next classic horror, which was inspired by true accounts and
by a story from Weird Tales magazine, was produced especially
for all you dorm dwellers.
Speaker 7 (01:07:17):
Out there.
Speaker 8 (01:07:20):
Every college or university worth it salt has one or
two good spook stories attached to it, and all spook
stories contain a grain of truth. University, where I completed
my master's degree a lifetime ago, is no exception.
Speaker 1 (01:07:45):
The choiring encounter adapted especially for October Pod by John Eger.
The Tale You Were About to Hear is based upon
various true ghost stories. It also borrows some elements suggested
by The Jellyfish, written by David H. Keller and originally
(01:08:06):
published in the January nineteen twenty nine edition of Weird Tales,
narrated by Terra Vauchell, co host of Three Spooted Girls.
Speaker 8 (01:08:18):
The big bad boogeyman on that campus is the mysterious
doctor Choirling. When I was there, nobody seemed to know
who exactly Doctor Choirling was, or why his name was
attached to all that was morbid and half of everything
mysterious at that school, but his presence was always felt. Example,
there was a lecture hall that the university had converted
(01:08:40):
into a black box theater where students would stage their
own productions, or where the English department would hold poetry
slams and the like. But before that, it was where
doctor Choirling would hold most of his lectures. It was
connected to one of the science buildings via a little known,
seldom use maintenance tunnel. I knew how to find it.
(01:09:01):
The door was never locked. It was a great place
to escape if you ever needed to pull an all
nighter cramming for an exam or grinding out an essay
and piece. The walls on the floors were black, and
the backstage area was concealed by a black curtain. I
was dating this cute little theater major and she refused,
refused to step a foot inside of that place. She
(01:09:21):
said the last time she was there, she was turning
on the lights, and she said she saw the black
shape of a man concealed in the folds of the
black curtain. She said she might never have seen him
if it weren't for his eyes. They were pure white,
with no pupils, no iris. They seemed to glow, and
she had convinced herself that if she stared into them,
(01:09:41):
they'd put her some sort of trance. So she hauled
ass out of the former lecture hall and never went
back there. When I asked what she thought she'd seen,
she said she was certain that it was the ghost
of Professor Quirling.
Speaker 9 (01:09:54):
Wireling Wireling Wireless.
Speaker 8 (01:10:02):
Everybody on that campus had their own story about a
choiring encounter, one that had happened to them firsthand, or
one that had happened to a friend or a friend
of a friend. Doctor Marvin Quirling had a metaphysical interest
in the expansion of the human consciousness for the purpose
of exploring regions man could not physically visit. He had
(01:10:22):
written books on the subject, but they were now all
out of print. I had heard recordings of his lecture,
and it was weird stuff. His expertise was esoteric, but
the legend that grew about him was closely tied to
the circumstances of his death and to a strange accident
that occurred during one of his lectures. I could never
find out what exactly had happened in this now legendary lecture.
(01:10:45):
I asked several people, even to the members of the
faculty in the administration, but I could never get a
straight story that made any sense. And then one night
I was out drinking with some friends. Then I was
introduced to an alum who had actually attended that lecture.
Quirreling was a miserable bastard, and all of his students
hated him, he had said every last one. He was
(01:11:06):
such a condescending prick to everyone, and he'd always get
off on the weirdest tangents during his lectures. And I'm
like my brother in Christ, We're just aspiring social workers.
How is any of this shit gonna help us in
our careers? He has the reputation for being some mad genius,
but he was just a toxic, narcissistic douchebag with his
(01:11:27):
head hopelessly trapped inside his own ass. Anyway, he kept
going on and on about mental projection and how mankind
could project human consciousness out into space, or into the
cellular structure of a malignant tumor, or to the bottom
of the ocean as a means of exploration. This one day,
it must have been about twelve years ago now, we
came into the lecture hall and he said he had
(01:11:49):
a fut experiment for us. But the thought experiment looked
more like a guided meditation than anything else. It's kind
of hard to explain. I don't remember a lot of
the details on how he did it. I just remember
that he had used hypnotic suggestion to convince the whole
class that we'd project our minds into the deep ocean
(01:12:10):
trench to study microscopic sea creatures. It sounds crazy, I know,
but all of us were convinced that we had astral
projected or whatever to the bottom of the ocean. I
still have memories of looking at a microscopic jellyfish thing
up close, as if I had shrunk down to its size.
I know it sounds goofy as hell, but it was
(01:12:31):
so real to all of us. The whole thing ended
when he started laughing at us, I mean, started calling
us a bunch of damned fools, and said we were
the sorriest class of side students he ever taught. He
did all that got into our heads and fucked around
with our thoughts, using the power of suggestion, just to
make fools.
Speaker 1 (01:12:50):
Out of us.
Speaker 8 (01:12:51):
I cannot explain to you the impact that whole thing
has had on my mental health. I've been in therapy
off and on ever since. I asked him why nobody
sued Quirreling or the school after they sent people into therapy.
Surely there was a case to be made for mental anguish.
He tossed back the last of his beer and said
you'd think that, but we had to sign a waiver
(01:13:13):
before we could enroll into his class, something about having
to give express consent due to a highly unorthodox and
experimental nature of the subject matter. YadA, YadA, etc.
Speaker 1 (01:13:23):
Etc.
Speaker 8 (01:13:23):
And when you read the fine print, the form releases
the university as a whole and Quirling personally from any
and all legal liability should any personal injury, both mental
and physical occur. On top of that, Quireling has tenures,
so he was impossible to fire. A number of Quirreling
(01:13:50):
legends suggests that the professor used his powers of mental
projection to try to communicate with the dead. I never
gave these stories much credence because, well, they sounded like
something from a Saturday matinee spooky show. That was when
I went with my friend Kaylee to a small poetry
reading being held at the home of doctor Bishop, my
friend's contemporary lit professor. Kaylee and I were among the
(01:14:12):
first to show up. It was kind of weird milling
around this professor's house sipping from plastic champagne flutes. While
they were getting ready for more people to arrive. This
old woman came up to us and said, Hi, I'm
so and so, and we shook her hand, not realizing
she was this famous award winning poet whose poems we
were about to hear. I was so embarrassed for not
(01:14:32):
making a big deal out of meeting her. Anyway, we
made awkward small talk with the poet when a little
girl came up to us. She was the daughter of
doctor Bishop. The poet, looking for a reason to break
off from the two of us, began chatting with this
little girl. She was asking her about the house, asking
her about the room, etc. The poet pointed to a
room just off the main living room. The heavy antique
(01:14:54):
door to this room was padlocked, and the poet asked
the little girl what room that was. The girl, who
had been bubble lee and cheerful the whole time, went
really quiet. You could almost see the color drain from
her face. And she said, that's Marvin's room. There's bad
people in there, and then she scampered away. The three
(01:15:23):
of us shrugged and didn't have a chance to react
because doctor Bishop and a bunch of people from the
Modern Languages department walked into the room and we got
swept up into the poetry reading. The event evolved into
a casual hangout with doctor Bishop and a handful of
English majors and a couple bottles of wine. For the
life of me, I don't know how Kayley kept me
at this event so long. I must have been buzzed
because I didn't have it in me to talk poetry
(01:15:45):
and literature all night long. But at some point the
poet asked doctor Bishop about the padlocked room and told
him what his daughter had said. Doctor Bishop made a
funny expression on his face and said, oh, this used
to be the house where our school resident booky Man
used to live. I asked if he met doctor Kuierling,
and he nodded ominously and said, yes, indeed this used
(01:16:07):
to be Martin Quirling's house, and that he dropped his
voice to a whisper in case his daughter could hear,
that is the room where he died. Now all of us,
even the famous poet, were so curious that we begged
(01:16:29):
doctor Bishop to tell us everything he knew about the
mysterious doctor Quireling. I don't know if any of this
is true, he said, after finishing his plastic cup of wine,
but I'll tell you what I know. My daughter thinks
this place is haunted, especially that room and I'm not
sure I blame her. When our Lisa is up, we'll
(01:16:50):
probably move. Doctor Quireling died about ten years ago, long
before I started teaching here. The last of my colleagues
who knew him and worked with him just were tired
at the end of last semester. But here's what I know.
He was a theoretical psychologist, interested in the mind's potential
to experience and influence the physical world outside one's physical body,
(01:17:11):
astral projection, talking to the dead, you know, the whole
nine yards. Personally, it sounds like he's a quack. Professionally,
I've heard stories that make me believe he was an
awful teacher who ran a very toxic classroom. Doctor Bishop
was a little reluctant to talk about the little room
and about how quir Ling died, but we all pressured
him to spill the tea. That room, he says, was
(01:17:35):
doctor Quirling's office more than that, his astral projection chamber.
Now I don't have any facts about his death, but
from what I've heard, he died of suicide. Some people
say he slit his wrists and that his blood still
stains the floorboards beyond that locked door. Some say it
was a drug overdose. I even had one lady swear
(01:17:58):
to me that he hanged himself somehow, I can't say,
but everyone I've spoken to said that he left a note,
and the contents of that note implied, implied, very heavily,
that he had been conducting an experiment on himself. I
heard he was an astral projection gone wrong. And I've
also heard he was trying to commune with spirits. Whatever
(01:18:19):
it was, and whatever he wrote in that note, it
terrified him. It terrified him enough to take his own life.
Then the room fell quiet. One of doctor Bishop's students
said she heard that Choirling had summoned ghosts and that
these restless spirits invaded the house and made choir Ling
do it. As different as all those stories are, doctor
(01:18:44):
Bishop said, all of the stories agree on one thing.
The last line of Quirling's suicide note contained the phrase
the bad people are here. The poet, who hadn't spoken
at all through doctor Bishop's tale, piped up and asked
if she could see the inside of the room. Doctor
(01:19:06):
Bishop said that was quite impossible, believe me, He said,
I'd love to have a good look myself, but I've
never even opened the door. The padlock is the landlord's doing,
and the landlord has the only key, So all of
that remains a legend, and it's anyone's guess what he
(01:19:27):
saw or what he thought he saw.
Speaker 1 (01:19:51):
The sky is getting lighter at the horizon. Our back
to school spooks are making their Melon Collie way back
to the grave to sleep off another year or more. Man,
look at that view, you can see the whole town
sleeping below. There's a drive in theater not far from here,
(01:20:14):
and from where I'm standing there's a great view of
the screen. I wonder if the poor souls buried here
ever sneak out of their graves to watch the late
late show. Of course, back to school usually means the
end of summer for the drive ins. Sure, they'll remain
open on weekends while the weather's still warm, but all
(01:20:35):
the seasonal help they've hired high school and college students
mostly will likely start to jump ship. The warm, glittering
golden hours of another summer will soon slip through our
fingers like so many grains of beach sand. Speaking of
(01:20:55):
the drive in, I think we've got time for one
more classic horror story before the cock crows. Our final
tale inspired by the Phantom of the Opera just so
happens to take place at a drive in movie theater.
As for me, I'll be back in two weeks with
(01:21:17):
more retro horror for all you bold individualists out there.
Until then, stays spooky mes a me. All that really
remains of the old Viceroy is its big movie screen. Now,
(01:21:39):
of course, it's rusty and neglected, with a pealing decade
old billboard for a clothing boutique called Rosie's Rag Patch
plastered to it. A faded yard sign reelect Joe Butch Devlin,
Green County Sheriff juts out of the tall grass. Just
next to it, Folding tables laid out with antiques, treasures,
(01:22:00):
and just plain junk from sellers all over the Tri
County region occupy spaces where families would go to watch
a movie inside their car. A few of the old
speaker posts remain, and the Crackley Art deco speakers are
used to announce flash sales, children who've gotten separated from
their parents, lost in found items, and raffle winners. Yet,
(01:22:24):
amidst all the haggling, the smells of fried dough from
the Tchuro truck and the cries of toddlers who want
a balloon. One can feel the ghosts of a by
gone era moving silently, like a breath of summer wind
through the crowd. One doesn't need an opera house to
have a phantom. The Phantom of the Viceroy Drive in
(01:22:52):
written by M. J McAdams from an original idea by
Edward October and inspired by the novel The Phantom of
the Opera by Gaston le Rouere.
Speaker 10 (01:23:06):
All it took was the scent of wet grass at
the flea market, ordinary dew covered grass, trampled and mashed
into moist soil underneath, and the memories came flooding back
to me. It was summertime. I was home from college
and working at the Viceroy to save up enough money
to live on for the following semester. My name is Christine,
(01:23:26):
and this is the sound of my voice. The Viceroy
was owned by mister and Missus Geary, who were friends
of my mom and dad, so it was easy to
get seasonal work there. Like most drive in theaters, the
Viceroy was only open during the warm months. My summer
break began sooner and lasted longer than Green County schools.
(01:23:47):
So the first and last week or two of my break,
the drive in was only open on weekends, but when
all the little kiddies were back home from school, it
was open every night Tuesday through Sunday. Those were long,
backbreaking nights. I worked concessions like most of the help
and I remember slinging so much popcorn that sometimes I'd
(01:24:08):
sit up in bed and beg imaginary popcorn in my sleep.
It was pretty monotonous work, well until the Phantom appeared.
Speaker 9 (01:24:18):
He was our local boogeyman. Well he was be where
Emilio Vaskaz, but that's a different story. My name is Darcy,
and this is the sound of my voice.
Speaker 1 (01:24:30):
Drive away your worries and cares at this historic drive
in the Viceroy drive In Theater, family owned and operated
since nineteen fifty four. We have a wonderful program lined
up for you tonight, So relax in the comfort of
your own vehicle and come back off.
Speaker 10 (01:24:48):
I was into my second week at the drive in
the first time I saw him, Lucky me. The Viceroy
was off the main highway, but it was just at
the edge of town and just a short walk away
from a dense patch of woods. Growing up, I'd heard
all sorts of crazy stories of what went on in
those woods, and that summer I found out that none
(01:25:09):
of that changed.
Speaker 11 (01:25:11):
My name is Meg and this is the sound of
my voice. Christina and Darcy were my shift buddies. We'd
be cutting up all through the intermission rush, and by
the end of the night we'd be covered in popcorn,
butter and powdered sugar from churros and funnel cakes. After
a shift, when everyone had gone and we'd close up,
the three of us would linger by our cars and
(01:25:32):
hang out to shoot the shit. Employees parked away from
the main lot in a grassy area, just on the
edge of the woods. Now, let me be clear for
a moment. Those woods were always crawling with more tails
than the trees had leaves, ghosts, cryptids, cults and killers.
Speaker 12 (01:25:49):
You name it.
Speaker 11 (01:25:50):
Hangman's Grove had it all. That's what people around here
called it. That's not the official name, but after an
old man hung himself back there, well, the name stuck.
Speaker 9 (01:26:00):
The story of the Viceroy Drive in Phantom is always
a little bit different depending on who you asked. Some
say he was once a child that went missing in
the woods and never left. Others say he was abandoned
there as a newborn and raised by the animals there,
or by some unknown creature. Some folks swear he's not
human at all, our very own local spook doomed to
(01:26:24):
walk the woods forever more.
Speaker 3 (01:26:28):
Now.
Speaker 11 (01:26:28):
I don't know about all that, but I do know
that whatever he was, he was as real as you are.
He'd never seemed dangerous before. I always assumed he was
some hermit or one of them homeless folk that set
up camp in the woods. And if he was some
sort of spirit, he was a mild poltergeist at best.
He mostly just caused trouble. Snacks would disappear from the
(01:26:50):
concession stand if it was left unattended, lights would flicker,
stuff like that.
Speaker 9 (01:26:56):
Some people swore that a hand would go around knocking
on car doors. If the folks inside were making out,
then they would look around, only to find no one
was there.
Speaker 11 (01:27:08):
But I know for a fact that this kid, Lonnie Davis,
would go around knocking on doors to prank any of
his friends who were getting some action, and then turn
around and blame the phantom. So don't listen to everything
you hear. But his pranks were mostly harmless. They called
the law multiple times, but the phantom would vanish without
a trace, so there wasn't much they could do. Finally,
(01:27:31):
they hired Sheriff Devlin's son Raoul, to work as a
security guard and do patrols during the movies. He was
a good guy, and he was the Sheriff's kid, and
he was big and fit used to play football. But
even with all that, I still don't know what they
expected him to do about the phantom. Most times he
just found excuses to hover around. Christine, the co owner,
(01:27:54):
was superstitious and thought that the phantom was a ghost
or a revenant or something. She started leaving offerings to
appease him, to make sure he wasn't too active.
Speaker 9 (01:28:04):
She leave care packages for him at the edge of
the woods, nothing crazy, food from concession magazines, books, or
little trinkets she would find. They had this unspoken agreement
that he would behave if these offerings kept being made.
Speaker 11 (01:28:21):
But after Christine started working with us, the phantom began
leaving roses, the biggest reddest roses I've ever seen. He
left one on Christine's old beat up ford before the
end of her shift, just a single rose each time.
At first, I thought it was Raoul. He's always been
sweet on her, But when I confronted him about it,
(01:28:41):
he acted just as surprised as I was. Then one
night we saw him.
Speaker 10 (01:28:47):
He was just standing there, staring at me with these dark,
empty eyes. None of us had ever seen him before.
He was taller than I expected, and wore a long,
shabby coat, his hair slicked back, not a strand out
of place. It was the neatest thing about him, but
not the strangest. The strangest thing was the carved wooden
(01:29:10):
mask that concealed the top half of his face, the
golden paint chipping away around the edges. The painted face
reminded me of those Greek theater masks we studied in school.
Beautiful but eerie, unsettling even he was like a statue
that came to life. No, not quite like a statue,
(01:29:32):
like a wooden totem. I had thought that Raoul was
leaving me those pretty flowers. He knew roses were my favorite,
and secretly I was hoping it was him, And then
this oogie feeling of horror washed over me when I
realized they weren't from him. Meg and I were leaving
late one Saturday night. Darcy didn't work that shift, and
(01:29:54):
as we reached the employee parking lot, I saw him
looking back. Now, he had always been so careful not
to be seen, but that night it was different. That night,
the Phantom wanted me to know that he was my admirer.
I watched him place the pristine rose on the hood
(01:30:14):
of my truck. He handled it as carefully as you'd
handle an infant, and then he turned to meet my gaze.
I was frozen where I stood. Meg was beside me,
freaking out and rummaging through her bag for some mace,
but the sound seemed muffled to me as I watched
the Phantom, almost entranced by him, he put a finger
(01:30:37):
to his lips, gave a low bow, and vanished. I
must have stared at that rose all night when I
got home, though at the time I couldn't quite say why.
Speaker 13 (01:30:52):
My name is Raoul Devlin and this is the sound
of my voice. We moved here from Charleston when I
was in fifth grade. I went to school with all
them Vicera girls, and even then there were stories about
the Phantom. He was known as the Phantom of Hangman's
Grove until he took a life into Christine, and that
was the first time I ever found him frightened.
Speaker 7 (01:31:16):
Attention, love birds, The management would like me to remind
you that and are engaging in any acts of affair
are strictly prohibited. Leude behavior and explicit displays of affection
will not be tolerated. Enough said.
Speaker 10 (01:31:37):
He killed Carlotta Hernandez. I know that I didn't want
to admit it at the time, but who would No
one wants to be the reason that someone gets hurt,
let alone murdered. I know what people said, what they
will say, but I never asked him to do it.
I mean, she was a bitch to me, but she
(01:31:57):
was still a human being. She still was someone's mother,
and she was still someone's little girl. Carlotta everyone called
her Lottie, was a mean girl. She bullied me back
in high school, and she hadn't changed much as an adult.
I'll admit that when I found out she worked at
the drive in, I almost turned down the job. But
(01:32:19):
college is expensive and living isn't much cheaper, so I
learned to tolerate her. She did everything she could to
make me miserable there. It was like being fourteen all
over again. She'd yell and nag at me, leaving me
with the dirtiest jobs to do, gossip about me with regulars,
(01:32:39):
and start nasty rumors that made the locals give me
a never ending supply of dirty looks. Then one night
she took things a little too far.
Speaker 11 (01:32:55):
Oh my god, that night was hell on earth. We
did a midnight to dawn triple feature of Orphan, Midnight
Meat Train, and Faces of Death. I mean those movies,
whoof Now the midnight madness was different. We played our
normal family friendly feature first, and then there was an
intermission and the families with kids left, and then the
(01:33:15):
freaks came out for the midnight shows. Mister and missus
Geary ran the box office and the projector during the
family feature. Then the Giys would close up the box
office around twenty minutes after midnight and go home. They
put Raoul at the front gate, making sure nobody snuck
in after the box office closed, and they'd moved Lottie
off the concessions register and put her up in the
(01:33:36):
booth to run the projector for the spook shows. So yeah,
Lotti was her typical shitty self during her shift at concessions.
A snide comment here, an insult there, and the occasional
dash of attitude to top it all off.
Speaker 9 (01:33:51):
What can I say? She was a you know bitch,
but even I didn't expect her to take things that far.
She's always been jealous of Christine and did everything she
could to make her look bad. Even now that they
were older, Carlotta was hell bent on embarrassing her, running
her out of town or whatever. Lottie was dating one
(01:34:14):
of Christine's exes, this loser named Craig. Craig had saved
some risque photos of Christine from back in the day.
Speaker 11 (01:34:23):
Craig had naked pictures of my girl Christine on his phone,
and when Lottie found them, she went bug fuck on
Craig and Christine. So, of course, that night goes on
as usual, except when the previews before Orphans start rolling,
(01:34:45):
the show cuts off without warning. The only reason Christina
and I noticed was because everybody started hollering from inside
their cars and flashing their lights and blowing their horns.
I ran out with Christina and Darcy to see what
was going on, and that's when those naked photo of
Christine flashed up on the screen.
Speaker 9 (01:35:10):
As you can imagine, the unruly crowd started whistling and
shouting some pretty crude stuff. I'll never forget the expression
on poor Christine's face.
Speaker 8 (01:35:19):
She was mortified.
Speaker 9 (01:35:20):
May ran up to the projection booth to shut it
off because she was the only one aside from Lottie,
who knew how to operate it, and as she did,
she passed Carlotta, laughing her ass off. She shoved her
out of the way, and Lottie spilled her slush puppy
all over the front of her shirt. She got the
movie back up and running, but the damage was done.
(01:35:42):
I was furious. Poor Christine was hiding in the lady's
room sobbing. When I went to check on her, I
saw a single red rose waiting just outside the bathroom stall,
right on the handle.
Speaker 11 (01:35:57):
We knew something was wrong, bad wrong. After I fixed
the projector, I ran back out to find Lotti, but
she was nowhere in sight. Truth be told, I was
looking to beat her ass. I went to the employee
lot you know where we all parked up in the
grass looking for her shitty little Honda. After all that
(01:36:17):
running around, I calmed down and went back to the
projection booth. I mean if Lottie wasn't running the movies.
Somebody was going to have to do it. And when
I stretched my hand out to open the door, I
felt like a crackle of static electricity, telling me that
something awful had happened. As soon as I opened the door,
I found her.
Speaker 13 (01:36:41):
I get that no one lacked Carlotta Hernandez, least of
all me. She was the popular girl who peaked in
high school and was now stuck in her small town.
She always thought she'd outgrow mister and missus. Geary hired
her more out of pity than anything. It was the kids.
I think she had two kids straight out of high school.
(01:37:02):
That's two miles to feed when no one wanted them
suffering because their mother lacked basic life skills. She was
used to being the pretty one that just skated through
life without a care. But you know, pretty only get
you so far. What she did to Christine that night
was inexcusable. If I had known, I'll never forgive her
(01:37:28):
for hurting Christine. That's true. She didn't deserve to die, though.
I had been hanging out at the front gate in
the box office and was just about to head up
to the concession stand when Darcy ran down to get me.
When I got up the hill, I saw Meg frantically
(01:37:50):
pacing by the stairs to the projection room. At first
couldn't get a coherent word out of him.
Speaker 1 (01:37:57):
She was in shock.
Speaker 13 (01:37:59):
I told Darsan to call my dad and have him
send a squad car out and an ambulance. I crept
into the projection beef only to check if Lotti was
still alive. I knew CPR, and if there was a
chance I could help her well. I wanted to help,
but quickly realized that wouldn't be an issue. She was
on the floor, neither projector, but she was barely recognizable.
(01:38:23):
Her face was frozen in a permanent screen, lips blue
and eyes bulging. Her hands were bloody, like like she'd
been calling something desperately at her attacker and her throat
she'd been strangled with a thick ribbon of film movie film.
Speaker 11 (01:38:43):
By two thousand and nine, the Viceroy had switched over
it to digital projection, and all the pictures were screened
that night were digital projections except for one. We had
Faces of Death on thirty five millimeter film and had
to project it on the analog projector the old fashioned way,
and that's the film they found around Lottie's neck. I
(01:39:03):
have no idea how the phantom made her body appear
unnoticed in the projection booth in the short time I
was away from it, and I told Raoul's daddy the
same thing.
Speaker 13 (01:39:13):
Christine came up the steps not long after I came
on the scene. I told Meg or Darcy to babysit her,
but I guess that didn't take. She was pale and
in a daze. I kept her away from the projection
booth just like everyone else, Just like everybody else because
it was now a crime scene. Seems like I waited
(01:39:35):
forever for my dad to show up with a couple
of deputies in an ambulance. But as I turned her
away to send her back down to where Meg and
Darcy were waiting, my stomach dropped. She was clutching a
single red rose to her chest, clutching it with a tight,
white knuckle grip. Now I can't say if it was
(01:39:58):
my imagination or if the dim shadow was on the
lot playing tricks on me, but I swear I saw
the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.
Speaker 10 (01:40:18):
It was just awful. Lottie made my life hell whenever
she could. But no one deserves to die like that. Though,
and I know this is horrible to say, I don't
miss her. I know it's not right, but it's the truth.
Raoul drove me home that night. I was staying with
Mom and Dad during the break, but they were away
(01:40:39):
on a long cruise and I didn't want to be alone,
so Raoul stayed with me. We talked and watched movies.
He tried to make me laugh and even made eggs
when the sun came up. He was always the sweetest.
I felt safer with him than ever, and I was
truly thankful to have Raoul with me. But here's the thing.
(01:41:01):
I never felt as though I was in danger. I
felt shitty, yes, but afraid for my own safety.
Speaker 14 (01:41:09):
Not really.
Speaker 10 (01:41:11):
The phantom scared me at first, but I soon realized
that I should be the last person worried about him.
Everything he did was for me. He was like my
guardian angel in a sort of twisted way. Anyways, the
theater was closed for a little over a week for
the investigation, and out of respect for Lottie's family. No
(01:41:34):
new evidence was ever found, except a bit of blood
some finger prints that didn't match any records, and a
few slim flakes of gold paint just like the Phantom's mask.
Every one suspected it was the Phantom after all, though
most wouldn't say it out loud, but they didn't have to.
Police had been permanently set up at the Viceroy, taking
(01:41:56):
shifts all day and into the night, to ensure if
the Phantom did come back, he'd be swiftly apprehended. Sheriff
Devlin encouraged Missus Geary to keep leaving him her little
offerings to try and bait him, but he never came.
He was much too smart for that. Time went on,
and soon Raoul and I started going out again. My
(01:42:19):
parents had planned to be away for the rest of
the summer, and he started staying over more frequently. Things
started going back to normal around town, and Raoul became
minute normal. We even started talking about moving in together
after I graduated. But then then I saw the Phantom
(01:42:41):
one last time.
Speaker 1 (01:42:43):
Let the light of his perfect love shine upon you
and your family. This to del Rey Bible College invites
you to worship at the church of your choice this Sunday.
Speaker 11 (01:42:56):
Things were okay again, and none of us ever saw
that night coming't been any more strange incidents at the
Viceroy since the night Lottie was murdered. Missus Geary didn't
bother with her offerings anymore, and new tales of local
ghosts and ghouls took the phantom's place. There were even
some sick folks who now said that Lottie's ghost was
now haunting the drive in and her not even cold
(01:43:17):
in her grave. Yet he was wrong with people. A
new guy was hired to replace Lottie for the remainder
of the summer, so I worked the concessions registered with
Christine Darcy and the new guy made snacks. Sheriff's deputies
stopped patrolling the grounds after about two weeks, so we
were back to just having Raoul again. It was a
(01:43:39):
double feature night. Our top built picture for the night
was Gi Joe Rise of Cobra and Drag Me to
Hell was the second feature. Business was steady. It was
probably going to be our last busy weekend before school
started back up. Then some time after eleven, around the intermissions,
the power completed sleely went out.
Speaker 9 (01:44:02):
Everything was pitch black. Even the street lamps on the
highway had gone out, like the whole grid. We were
on went down, people started honking their horns and switching
on their headlights. Some Wise, guys kept flashing their high beams.
There weren't a lot of windows in the congession stands,
so even then it was ridiculously dark. Raoul tried his
(01:44:24):
best to keep everyone calm, but.
Speaker 11 (01:44:26):
He was just pissing in the wind. That crowd, especially
since it was a crowd, jazzed up to see a
horror picture next, got wild. I called out to Christine,
who had been right beside me before the power outage,
but got no response. Then Darcy and the new kids
started calling for Raoul's spidey sense must have tingled because
he bust in with his daddy's police flashlight and froze
(01:44:49):
when he saw his girl was missing. And then we saw,
sitting on the counter next to the bag of popcorn
that Christine had just filled, a single red rose.
Speaker 13 (01:45:01):
I yelled at someone to call the Sheriff's office and
then took off, running to where Christine's.
Speaker 1 (01:45:05):
Car was parked.
Speaker 13 (01:45:07):
I saw them, but just for a moment. The phantom
had Christine thrown over his shoulder. He fought the best
she could, but he had a good hold on her
and I knew he was stronger than he looked. Within seconds,
they disappeared among the trees, and without a second thought,
I ran in after them. I found Christine at sunrise
and a little clearing. There were no signs of violence
(01:45:30):
on her, aside from the wounds you'd get from being
snatched up and dragged through dense woods. She was unconscious
until paramedics had a look at her, but was otherwise unharmed. Well,
you can read the rest in Daddy's police report high.
Speaker 6 (01:45:51):
The Grass where.
Speaker 10 (01:45:55):
I don't remember anything after that. I remember the lights
going out at the Viceroy and then waking up in
the ambulance, but that's about it.
Speaker 15 (01:46:03):
I love, my love.
Speaker 11 (01:46:09):
That police report was pure horseshit. It didn't even include
the statements they took from me, Darcy, and missus Geary.
It didn't happen the way that the Honorable Sheriff Joe
Butch Devlin would have us all believe.
Speaker 10 (01:46:22):
I don't remember where the Phantom took me or what
happened when we got there, but I began to have
strange dreams about him for weeks after that. Well they
haven't stopped the dreams. They've just become a lot less frequent.
In the dream, he was unchanged from the last time
I saw him, same patchwork coat, same slicked back hair,
(01:46:46):
and same rough hun wooden masks spray painted golden to
reveal only the lower half of his weathered face. He
took me deep into those woods, the woods that folks
call Hangman Grove, to a little clearing.
Speaker 9 (01:47:02):
After finding Christine in the woods, Grimmer has it the
Shares was so pissed off that he rounded up some
deputies and other concerned citizens to do some extra judicial
manhunt for the Phantom.
Speaker 11 (01:47:15):
He rounded up an old time posse of off duty cops,
truck drivers, and farm hands to find the Phantom and
lynch his ass. Can you believe that shit that police
are doing that in the twenty first century?
Speaker 10 (01:47:30):
The Phantom had a little nest there a campsite I suppose.
There were several tarps and canvas sheets strung out and
tied to trees to form a tent of sorts. In
the dream, the phantom had covered it with pine boughs
to camouflage it. There was a crude religious altar, a
shrine of sorts, all made up from whatever he could
(01:47:51):
find in the forest, twigs, roots, vines and whatever trash
he could scavenge from the Viceroy, including Missus Geary's offerings
voodoo shit.
Speaker 11 (01:48:02):
He made all these weird voodoo dolls and shit out
of drive in movie theater trash to do some kind
of weird devil worship ceremonies with it.
Speaker 10 (01:48:10):
He showed me every detail of his altar, objects that
were sacred to him, and then he spoke to me.
In my dream.
Speaker 11 (01:48:20):
He couldn't speak, not really, not English anyways. They say
he could only mumble words in this made up language
because he never lived around people like that one Jodie
Foster movie. He was feral, like a caveman.
Speaker 10 (01:48:35):
He said, I have waited lifetimes to find you. He
pointed to the altar, and now I could see a
figurine whittled from a chunk of pine, about the size
of the baby doll, and he would cradle it in
his arms like a baby. And then he passed it
to me, and I also held it like a baby
here in the crook of my arm. The phantom didn't
(01:48:59):
say what it was, but my dream self knew it
was a demon or a goddess. The longer I looked
at her, the more she would resemble me. Sometimes I'd
dream this dream and she'd always look like me, and
other times she'd always look like the demon goddess my
whole self was staring back at me in the guise
(01:49:20):
of a monster. Her horns twisted and spiraled like a
jagged crown atop her head, and when she wasn't being held,
we'd place her in a bed of rose petals, roses
like the gifts he would leave for me. She had
a tail like a rat's tail, and her claws held
what looked like a skull and a sword.
Speaker 11 (01:49:42):
And then they beat him and made him watch while
they burned all of his shit to the ground.
Speaker 10 (01:49:47):
I would ask the phantom in my dreams why the
figurine looked like me. He took my hands, and as
I looked into his eyes, I realized they weren't just dark.
They were as black as the wood around us, inhuman
and otherworldly eyes that contained an empty cosmos. He spoke
(01:50:07):
to me with a deep voice, an ancient voice, and
he would say, you are the mother of the Apocalypse,
the bringer of a new age, and together we will
finally bring this world to its knees, just as we
would have done in elder days for your true name
is Va, and that's where the dream always ends. I
(01:50:30):
never hear what his name for me is before I
wake up. Something that starts with a V. Pretty silly,
I guess buck walk black.
Speaker 6 (01:50:41):
Here is the color my true love.
Speaker 9 (01:50:47):
I imagine how he must have cried. This was his world,
this was his deity. Seeing it all burnt down like
that would have been like watching them murder his God.
Everything that happened after that was pure speculation. Whatever they
did to him was the last anyone ever saw of him.
I heard they loaded him in fishing boat in the
(01:51:08):
early hours of the morning, changed him to some cinderblocks,
and drowned him in the deepest part of Lake Castillo.
Speaker 10 (01:51:15):
I love long.
Speaker 11 (01:51:21):
That's not how I heard it. I heard they found
the bloody wire he used to strangle Lottie with, and
they bound his hands with it and then executed him,
blew a hole in him with a shotgun, and then
they buried the body where nobody would find him. I mean, shit,
this was Sheriff Devlin we're talking about. If anyone went
looking for a body, he'd have to be the one
(01:51:43):
to send them.
Speaker 1 (01:51:46):
Rosie's rag patch is a proud sponsor of the Viceroy
drive In. Bring your ticket stub into any Rosy's rag
Patch location to receive a free gift.
Speaker 10 (01:52:03):
The town got back to normal, the Phantom faded out
of recent memory and into legend. The Viceroy drive In
went out of business the very next year. Turns out
they just couldn't compete with the big multiplex that moved
into Ray Market Plaza. I got my degree a couple
years later, and I was hired on as a vettec
at an animal hospital next door to a boutique owned
(01:52:26):
by Raoul's aunt. And then, of course Raoul and I
got married shortly after that.
Speaker 9 (01:52:33):
They had a beautiful wedding. I don't think I've ever
seen so many roses.
Speaker 10 (01:52:38):
Last summer, I was out for a little hike and
I decided to walk out towards a hangman's grove. The
trees out there were just as dense as ever. Then
I came across this odd little clearing, like the Phantom's
nest from my dreams. I sat on an old stump
to do a sketch in a little notebook I'd brought
with me, and then I saw it jutting out from
(01:53:01):
the ground. Like an old tree root.
Speaker 11 (01:53:05):
I don't see Christine and Raoul much these days. I
mean I see them around town and we say hi,
but it's not like we were ever close friends after
that summer. She and Raoul have been married for a
while now. They seem happy, but I hear they've been
trying to have kids for a while now, and well
they've had a hard time with it.
Speaker 10 (01:53:26):
I guess that lost clearing isn't lost at all. I'm
just the only one who seems allowed to find it,
just as I was allowed to find this figurine in
the ground. It's the one from the shrine, the one
from my dream, and she's still smiling that evil smile,
terrible and beautiful as a siren. Raoul doesn't know it,
(01:53:48):
but I keep her in a little hat box under
the bed. Some nights. She whispers to me in my sleep,
whispers my name, whispers her name for me, but I
can never make it out, just the the sound at
the beginning. That was about fourteen or fifteen weeks ago.
Speaker 13 (01:54:10):
I guess this is as good of a place to
announce it as any. We just found out that Christine
and I are finally getting to have a baby. We
are very excited to be parents. We already have names
picked out. If it's a boy, we're gonna name America
after her grandfather. If it's a girl, we're gonna name
(01:54:30):
her Rose after my Rosie as Bunny.
Speaker 5 (01:54:40):
Yum Yum sizzling hot dogs topped with Castleberry's Chili now
being served at the snack Bar.
Speaker 1 (01:55:12):
The Phantom of the Viceroy Drive in starring YouTube's Lady
Vengeance as Christine Grisavicus, Beauty Unlocked Podcast as Meg J. T. Hossak,
Brew Crime as Raoul Keeley, Misty Mysteries Podcast as Darcy,
(01:55:33):
and narrated by Edward October. Stick around after the credits
for a brief word from some of our fellow indie podcasters, creators,
(01:55:56):
and friends. There may even be some bloopers, outtakes and
content as well. You have been listening to Octoberpod. Octoberpod
is produced, edited and directed by Edward October. The series
co producers are m J McAdams and Amber Jordan. Logo
and banner graphics by Jessica Good Edward October. Character design
(01:56:17):
by Nick Calavera. Select still photography courtesy of unsplash dot Com.
Select music cues by Doctor dream Chip, and various other
stock music and sound effects courtesy of freesound dot org.
Music from Bigfoot Apocalypse and Thorax theme from Octoberpod composed
by Nico Vittasi. All other images, music, and FX cues,
(01:56:41):
except where noted, are sourced from within the public domain.
Follow us on YouTube at Octoberpod, home video, on Instagram
and the app I Still Call Twitter at octoberpodvhs, and
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and all of our links on the world wide Web
at octoberpodvhs dot com. For business inquiries or story submissions,
(01:57:06):
email Octoberpod at gmail dot com. If you enjoyed this program,
we'd be very pleased if you told your friends about us,
and while you're at it, ride us a five star
or equivalent review. Wherever you were listening, the man who
spoke to you was mister Edward October.
Speaker 3 (01:57:31):
Are you looking for a movie podcast with deep dives,
interviews and thoughtful film analysis.
Speaker 1 (01:57:36):
We ain't got none of that. What do we got?
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Speaker 7 (02:04:00):
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Speaker 14 (02:04:03):
D d nize the ride, the bad Monty ride ride
you know, but I say, nine day wid a brad
and you get about it. You know I didn't not
what you got you did mad the d didn't really
(02:04:24):
good dad, You guys WoT a friend. I made a
d D bad.
Speaker 15 (02:04:38):
Cold, not did not bad by me bad and I
money got D couple time.
Speaker 7 (02:04:51):
So I d.
Speaker 14 (02:04:56):
D D a bride.
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I d.
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N it another kind of thing. You just try, you ad.
You did not anize as.
Speaker 12 (02:05:21):
The guy you.
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Some guy cannot the time the time you denied you
did not you an not tied it tried to bend
we just you not you that is good.
Speaker 7 (02:05:43):
Just not.
Speaker 14 (02:05:47):
Godd it not you did not you know not what
did not.
Speaker 12 (02:05:56):
Zeever denied you.
Speaker 14 (02:06:01):
On an.
Speaker 1 (02:06:04):
Not not not not not.
Speaker 2 (02:06:10):
Not not not not.
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Not nn it not it.
Speaker 14 (02:06:32):
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Speaker 12 (02:06:34):
Addidid not yet you not.
Speaker 2 (02:07:13):
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Speaker 12 (02:07:19):
Not God good God, that not not something good d