41 - A Rhythm of Eight part 2

Can a monster that won't die, be defeated by a man who thinks he's dead already?   

We come to the end of a long road. Not just in terms of this decade-spanning – or indeed the end of season 4 of the podcast. This is last regular episode of this ghost story podcast. At least for now. Thanks so much for listening. I hope this final horror story has been worth waiting for.

A big thanks to Karyna Collier-Marsh for helping out with these episodes. You can find more about her work here: https://kcmvoiceover.co.uk/

Patrons help to keep this UK horror podcast going. If you'd like to become one, just visit https://www.patreon.com/newghoststories

Find more ghost story content on my Substack - https://newghoststories.substack.com/

Episode Transcript

(00:00):
Hello. I'm doing my bit rightout in front of the episode this month,
because this is not just the finalepisode of season four, it will
also be the last regular monthly episodeof the podcast, at least for a
while. As I mentioned at theend of the last season, my stop
pile of stories is finite, andseason four featured the last of my already

(00:24):
published stories, along with all thestories I've managed to complete over the past
eighteen months. So I will beputting the show into an indefinite hiatus after
this episode. Hopefully not forever,but after putting episodes out every month for
four years and working on the newGhost Stories project for well over a decade
now, it also feels like agood time to take a bit of a

(00:47):
rest and to take stock of thingsand consider how to move things forward.
When I started the podcast, whowas still in the midst of the pandemic.
I didn't know how long I wasgoing to do it for or whether
anyone would listen. It was astrange and uncertain time then, and it
continues to be a strange and uncertaintime now. I want to thank you

(01:11):
for joining me on this journey throughthese dark shadows of modern life, where
the ghosts may or may not exist, but the despair is real and all
the pain, sorrow, anxiety,and loneliness that go with it. I
suppose that's another reason to take abreak. There's so much darkness in the

(01:33):
world. It's important to take astep back to enjoy life. While I
have a life to live, We'reonly guaranteed one go round. We have
to make the most of it.There are indeed many things out there to
be afraid of, but nothing wastesour time quite like fear. I want

(01:56):
to thank you for listening to theshow. I want to thank everyone out
there who's left review, left acomment on Spotify or somewhere else, reached
out on social media, recommended theshow to a friend. I am enormously
grateful that you have granted me someof your precious time and being so supportive.
And hopefully this is not the end. I know that there are more

(02:19):
stories out there to tell, morethings to learn about the curious world we
live in in this uncertain time,So stay subscribed. If you are subscribed,
follow the at New ghost Stories,social feeds, on Threads, Instagram,
mastered on Blue Sky, and whateverhe's calling Twitter. Now we'll sign

(02:40):
up to the substack at new ghostStories dot substat dot com if you'd like
to know what's going on and whennew stories might be coming. It might
even be sooner than you think,maybe even say Christmas. Perhaps I don't
know. We'll have to see.From the bottom of my heart, I
thank you once again, and nowto part two of a rhythm of eight.

(03:07):
Here we go once again. Thestory you're about to hear was told
to me in the strictest of confidence. Certain names, dates, and locations
have been changed to protect that confidence. Events that feature in this story may
be part of the public record.If you believe you recognize any of the
people, places, or events thatappear in this story, ask you not
to reveal any information publicly out ofrespect for the subject's right to remain anonymous.

(03:52):
My name is David Paul Nixon,and this is the New Ghost Stories
podcast where we delve into the Newghost Stories archive to hear new and classic
cases of the supernatural stories that couldbe delusions, lies, fantasies, or
perhaps even the real thing. Justdon't make your mind up until you've listened.

(04:25):
He awoke to the sound of stompingfeet. There were many voices,
objects being moved, things, beingstruck, ripped, broken, He was
once again without substance and awareness,without a presence. It took time to
regain the senses he had lost.The noise was almost too much to bear.

(04:49):
One thing he could be certain ofthis was no family. There were
too many different tones and textures,and the noise they made was louder and
more intense until it ceased. Theactivity was broken by long, interminable silences.

(05:10):
He would in time untangle all thenoises, all the activity, all
the sometimes ceaseless, sometimes ceasing activity. The house was full of workmen.
Builders were stripping down the house andredesigning it. He had solved one puzzle,
but now he had a more tryingproblem. The workmen worked slowly and

(05:34):
at their own pace. There waslittle animosity between them. They rarely rose
to anger unless met with unexpected challenges. Serious incidents were few and far between.
The only source of occasional discomfort camefrom their conversations with the man,

(05:58):
who he discerned was paying them.In time, the cruel man would come
to understand that this man was thenew owner of the property. He was
frustrated with the slow progress and thegrowing expenses, and that gave the cruel
man something to feed off. Itwasn't much, but he at least gained

(06:23):
strength faster than before. But itwasn't fast enough. He was impatient.
He would need to create tension andterror himself if he was ever to grow
in substance again. Fortunately, abuilding site is a natural place for accidents.
He was too weak at first tocreate much impact. He had to

(06:46):
make do with causing minor annoyances,making small screws go missing, pushing a
useful tool out of reach, gettingdust and dirt onto painted surfaces. These
incan nveniences, when enacted in closesuccession, strengthened him bit by bit.
He was preserving his energy for greateropportunities. He struck gold one afternoon when

(07:13):
a man was using a ladder thatwas too small and he was stretching up
to a light fitting just above somestairs. The cruel man wasn't that strong,
but all it took was a littlepush. It was almost too much
to take in at once. Afterfeeding on morsels for so long, this

(07:36):
heavy portion left him in a daze, but it was the boost he needed.
From then on, he never leftthem at peace. Paint pots would
be turned over attachments on power toolswould suddenly shake. Loose planks with nails
sticking out of them would suddenly appearin places where the men walked. Cutting

(07:59):
tables would suddenly collapse, sending sawdustand splinters everywhere. The workmen became spooked,
some were hurt badly. Gradually theirnumbers dwindled. Yet his most devastating
stroke took almost no exertion at all. They were working on the wiring.

(08:20):
All he had to do was flicka switch for the power to come back
on. A man was nearly killed, and that was the last straw for
those still working there. The housewas empty again. He began to panic.
He'd enjoyed himself too much. Hewas losing the strength he'd only just

(08:43):
got back. He would lose himselfagain. But the owner would bring in
new people, and he lied tothem. He'd say he'd sack the previous
crew, and to the cruel man'srelief, these new builders got to work
quickly. The owner was increasingly anxiousthis was taking too long and costing him

(09:05):
too much. This new crew weresuspicious. Perhaps they'd heard rumors of the
mishaps and accidents. Perhaps he justseemed like a fussy client. It took
the cruel man just two days toscare them out. He was enjoying himself
getting greedy. It was a risk, but he guessed the owner wouldn't give

(09:30):
up easily, not after investing somuch. He wavered a little in his
convictions. The house was empty fora long time before the owner returned once
more. He arrived with an oldman and a woman. They guided the
old man towards the circuit box andlet him do his work. The owner

(09:50):
and the woman it had to behis wife, moved to another room,
where they began to argue. Theycouldn't afford to invest more money. Couldn't
they just get rid of it,take their losses and go. No,
he wouldn't give up. They wereseparating the upstairs and downstairs to create two
flats. He didn't know why.There'd been so many accidents and issues,

(10:15):
but it was almost done. Inthis market, they could still make money
selling both at least break even.Other than the electric, they could do
almost everything else themselves. Stay overthere on weekends until it was done.
No, there was nothing weird aboutthe place, just a bunch of idiots
who messed up and spread stories tospite him. They could work weekends,

(10:41):
it would be done in a fewmonths, and then they could get a
quick sale. She wasn't convinced,but she capitulated. The fun in games
with the builders had been entertaining,nourishing, but it wasn't as satisfying as
focusing on individuals and slowly turning thescrew building and exaggerating their torment so he

(11:05):
could overwhelm them and take control.He played one off against the other.
She was more easily terrified, sohe played games with her. Hid her
handbag, swapped her screwdriver for aspanner, then scattered the screws. He
threw her hair clips in the bin, knocked on the front door so she'd

(11:28):
come running, knocked on the wallso she'd go searching for him. The
owner was still in denial. Distrustgrew between them, then animosity. Why
wouldn't he believe her? Why wasshe telling him all these crazy things?
Why was he doing this to her? Why was she doing this to him?

(11:50):
The cruel man didn't leave the ownerentirely alone. His work on him
was more subtle, disturbing his sleepwith his ever reliable rhythm, so that
he never slept well and awoke,drowsy and bad tempered, the rhythm slowly
ticking away in his head. Thefinal straw was when she reached for her

(12:13):
coffee. The cruel Man grabbed it, moving it from her reach. He
slid it across the mantelpiece, sentit crashing against the wall. She exploded
into hysteria. I saw it move, but you're imagining things. Why don't
you believe me? It had takentime for the cruel Man had almost returned

(12:35):
to the peak of his powers,but he was changing in ways he didn't
understand. When the row was over, but unresolved, she was alone,
crying. She wiped away her tearsand walked from the upstairs bathroom to the
kitchen, and she screamed in terror. She ran from the kitchen and out

(12:58):
of the house, with her husbandcharging after her. But the cruel Man
had done nothing. He didn't understandwhat could have caused her to take flight.
And then as he moved, hesaw the light shift on the glass
of a new cooker top. Itwas a reflection she had seen him.

(13:22):
He was becoming real again. Suddenlyeverything seemed possible. Could he really become
whole? When the owner returned thecruel man decided he must not leave,
so he stole his keys. Theman wouldn't dare leave the house unlocked.
He spent fruitless hours on the search. Tried to call his wife. He'd

(13:43):
have to stay there again until hefound them. The other keys were at
home, would she bring them back. He left messages but got no answer.
He tried to sleep, but thecruel man kept him awake with his
knocking. The lights started to flipon and off. As soon as the
owner had turned them off in oneroom, the cruel man would flip them

(14:07):
on in another. He'd hear theknocking upstairs when he was downstairs, and
then downstairs when he was upstairs,doors slam shut. He panicked, tried
to leave by the front door wassomehow now locked, and the back door
too. The cruel man created aracket upstairs. The owner had to go

(14:28):
up and see. The cruel manstruck him down the stairs, causing him
to fall to the bottom. Thecruel man was overjoyed at the sound of
his own feet as he walked downthe steps. The owner struggled to stand.
When he saw the cruel man overhim, he cried for his life.

(14:50):
It was almost as good as beingalive again. He felt the man's
heart beat race with his own hand, and then fell it's slow at his
command. He put his cheek nextto his and listened to the owner's final
breaths escape from his lips. Yes, he knew he had extinguished all his

(15:15):
prey once again, and that hewould slip back into that nowhere of slumber
once more. But he knew hewould rise again, even faster than before.
These houses would be finished, theywould get new occupants. He would
come back faster and stronger than everbefore. What is fucking wrong with this

(15:41):
guy? I called, and Itexted, and eventually he answers and he's
like, well, you look sogood, babe. If you want to
come over and give me another prettypicture to look at, maybe I don't
need this one anymore. I hadto scream at him for another ten minutes
before he finally got the message.I sat refreshing the Facebook page over and

(16:02):
over until it was gone. Ittook about twenty minutes. It felt like
forever. I don't feel any reliefat all. It was out there.
People knew, people would talk.If Kathy knew, she's hardly a social
media pro, there's no reason itcouldn't be discovered by the faculty. Christ

(16:26):
they didn't even need social media.They just had to overhear the student's gossiping.
I bury my head at my pillows. My heart is thumping. Perhaps
it will give out. Then I'llbe dead too. He's not fresh out
of school, he's twenty one.I think, why can't we just treat

(16:47):
this like adults. He's an adultwith his Star Wars posters and his skateboard.
What if this is it? Whatif they do kick me off the
course? What was I going todo with the rest of my life?
What was I going to tell mum? Another night and no sleep and the

(17:10):
sound of knocking. Where's it comingfrom? It's not coming from the door.
Maybe the crazy lady upstairs isn't socrazy after all, but it'd be
nice to her. I might needmy career in hospitality. I roll out
of bed in the morning and washand make myself presentable. It's Saturday and

(17:33):
it's my turn to be in charge. I still have my responsibilities. They
don't change just because I've blown mylife up. Fuck you, Claire Parker,
Why couldn't you die somewhere else?There's just one albeit difficult guess to
cope with. I can cope withthat, even I can't screw this up.

(17:57):
I leave my room and notice abad smell in the it's the smell
of gas. One of the hobshasn't been turned off properly in the kitchen.
I switch it off and quickly openup the windows. How long has
that been on? I look around. I can't see any signs he's been
up and about. His bedroom dooris closed, and it looks like his

(18:19):
coat and boots are still there.Could it really have been on all night?
We're lucky no harm's been done.It's so weirdly careless of him.
It's mildly concerning, considering you knowwhat he's done before. But it was
just one hob. As suicide attemptsgo, it's barely half hearted, Probably

(18:41):
just a mistake, nothing to getworked up about. I set up a
fan in the dining room. HopefullyI can move the air before our guest
comes downstairs. I'll have to turnthe heating up to replace the cold air.
I can imagine her complaining already,but she doesn't come down. I

(19:02):
got all the food ready, Igot the place warm again, and she
never even came down. I endup eating her breakfast except for the gluten
free croissants. I chuck those.Great start to the day. God,
my head hurts. I have thispersistent ache. I have to take something

(19:22):
for it. What am I goingto do If I'm found out? I'll
just have to try and talk myway out of it. Will it count
in my favor If I just fessup, No, that'll be stupid.
I might get away with it.The staff might not find out, and

(19:44):
I can always deny it. There'sno evidence beyond the damn picture. Surely
he wouldn't show anybody else, wouldhe? Maybe I could claim it was
fake. I wonder what h woulddo. He'd make some devil lishly witty
remark, stick his nose up atthe lot of them, and walk away,

(20:04):
and then fall into something that justso happened to be even better,
always landing on his feet. Hemight have been illegally gay, but he
was a rich Cambridge man, sothat trumped everything else. He had built
in buffers for his life already.Now never talk about that. When they
talk about great men, do theyhow it was generally harder for them to

(20:26):
fail in the first place. Ican still hear knocking. Where's it coming
from? And where is he?I decided to knock on his door.
There's no answer. I pick upmy phone, intending to text him,
but then I see his mobile.It's on the coffee table in the living

(20:48):
room. It's a gray and miserableday. He's not in the garden or
the greenhouse. Might he have goneupstairs for something? Was he doing his
communion thing again? I really reallyhope not. My phone vibrates. God,
it's Mum. I'm supposed to callher this weekend, aren't I.

(21:11):
I don't need this. How amI supposed to make sense of anything?
If I can't even get a momentto myself to think. The reception bell
rings? What is it now?A one guest? Of course? She
keeps ringing the bells and make myway to her. She looks furious.
Yesterday I asked about the noise andnothing has been done. I'm not sure

(21:34):
what noise you're talking about. Isay, I know there's a knocking,
but it's not loud, and Idon't know what it is, and I
don't like her tone. Then there'sthe footsteps, she says, people coming
and going from room to room,there's no one staying at this hotel except
you. I feel my fists clenched. Don't lie to me, my girl.

(21:56):
I'm not lying to you, andI'm not your girl. Can't take
this. I'm not going to takethis. Don't snap at me. I've
half a mind that's hard to believe. I beg your pardon. It is
what it is. If you're nothappy with your stay here, you're welcome
to go somewhere else. We won'tcharge you for any more nights. We

(22:17):
would be happy for you to leave. She wasn't expecting that. Making herself
as tall as she can, shesays, well, I'll do that,
then I will go somewhere else.Please do I've never known anything like it,
she mutters, heading back to thestairs. I'm shaking. I wait

(22:37):
at reception and mending her booking onthe system and getting ready to take her
keys and fend off any parting shots. We say nothing to each other as
she drops them on the counter andheads for the door. I'm so tense.
I can't even loosen up a littleuntil she's through the door and gone
for good. Why did I letmyself get so angry? She's just a

(23:00):
difficult customer. I'm paid to handlethose. I shouldn't be bringing my feelings
to work. We only had oneguest and I've blown it, absolutely blown
it. Now i'll have to findhim. I need to apologize. We
can't afford to be driving away customers. I've got to make my confession,

(23:22):
fess up. I'm going to haveto do so much of that soon.
I'd better get started. A knockin his bedroom door again. Push it
open to be doubly sure. Isnot there? Could he be pretting around
upstairs? Why would he be runningfrom room to room? What she said
didn't make sense, but I'll haveto check and make sure. As I

(23:45):
reach for the master key, Ihear a thump from downstairs. He's in
the basement, probably during the laundry. Why didn't I think of that before?
The stairs are next to the receptiondesk. It's a say or flight
down. The room has a jumbowashing machine and matching dryer, and places
for ironing and folding sheets. Doesn'tget used much this time of year,

(24:10):
but when I get down there,the place is a tip. Piles of
boxes have appeared. There are sacksof clothes piled up, suitcases stuffed with
books. There are odd bits offurniture and bric a brac and paintings.
There are framed canvases, stacked canvases, some finished, some barely started,

(24:30):
piles of sketch pads and notebooks.There had been a locked door in the
laundry. I'd never paid attention toit. I just thought it was something
to do with the boiler. Itnever occurred to me there was anything worth
seeing inside That room was another bedroomhidden underneath the hotel. It can't have

(24:51):
been used for some time. Evenin the dim light, I can see
dust hanging in the air, andthick coats of it on the furniture.
Room has long been given over tostorage, but it had been lived in
once. This is where he keptall her things, where he'd shut them
away after she died. When hetalks about her, it's only ever a

(25:15):
reference here and there. He useswords like free spirit and hippie. But
looking at her things, I don'tget a sense of someone who lived in
the past. What I can see, taking into consideration her stylistic and artistic
choices, is a dialogue between thingsold and new. A retro lava lamp

(25:36):
stands next to a candelabra and anold fold down desk and draw set itself
next to a modern dressing table inbamboo with thin legs and a retro mirror
encircled with lights. Her art choicesmatch the same pattern. It had to
be deliberate. A framed Turner printhung next to a cubist abstract by an

(25:56):
artist I didn't recognize. A classicalsculpture stood next to a kitch bust of
Elvis Presley. This juxtapositioning is encapsulatedby most of her work. It's a
lot different to the charcoal sketch onhis desk. These works are mostly in
color, though there's variety. Hermajor theme seems to be classical pieces being

(26:19):
reinvented on the canvas in front ofyou. A stately home breaking down into
abstract cubist shapes, a vast landscapedissolving into Pointillism. If nothing else,
it showcased her versatility. I don'tthink it's all good. The best pieces
are the interiors, the way ittransitions from one style to another, and

(26:41):
some of the work is a littlegimmicky, as if someone had played with
a filter on photoshop. The interiorsmake more sense. It's more organic,
like pulling out the influences of artthat we see all around us but never
notice. I know he's here,somewhere. I'm so distracted by all the

(27:02):
things around me, he still managesto make me jump. He's dressed in
tatty clothes and is covered in dustincobwebs. How's everything going, he says,
as if nothing weird is going on? Baffled by everything, I answer,
I really don't know. Are youokay? Oh, I'm fine.
I'm just fine, just doing sometidying up, tidying well, okay,

(27:27):
making a mess first. I haven'tbeen through the stuff in years. About
time, really out with the oldand nym with the He stops and looks
uncomfortable. He picks up again.Well, what's the good of it all?
Being down here? Just because she'sdead doesn't mean she has to be
gone, right right? I nodlike a bubble head. She was so

(27:51):
alive, you know, And tomove on, I have to be able
to have her around, not justbury her. She's buried, of course,
cremated at you, But I haveto let the parts of her that
are here live, right, INot like my life depends on it.
Have you seen her? Paintings.Yes, they're so good, aren't they?

(28:11):
More nodding. If her work survives, then in a way she survives,
doesn't she? Of course? Iget that. He picks up a
framed canvas. It has the archesof the Roman Colosseum recurring into infinity like
an M. C. Escher print. He blows off the dust and I
step back to avoid it. Ican't believe I never thought of this before.

(28:34):
I don't know if I'll be ableto recreate her luck with my bits
and bobs and what's still down here, But let's see, it would be
good to have more color in thehotel. I wasn't listening. I'd noticed
the bathroom. The room wasn't ensuite like all the others in the hotel,
but the door was nailed shut.Wooden planks of different lengths and thicknesses

(28:56):
were arranged haphazardly over it, asif struck in place in a frenzy.
You seem stressed, He says,is everything all right? How is our
delightful guest at breakfast? I'd almostprefer talking about the dead. I feel
my back tense up again. Istart speaking with a frog in my throat,

(29:18):
with my hands tucked behind my back. I blather on about what happened
and how sorry I am, andhow I shouldn't have let my temper get
the better of me. I won'tlet it happen again. I've just been
stressed out with my studying and myclass. I know we can't afford to
put off guests, especially the militantreviewing crowd, and I'm really sorry for
being so unprofessional while I do it, I hate myself for doing it,

(29:45):
being so guilty and full of shamefor something so stupid and irrelevant. I
want so badly for him to forgiveme, but perhaps even more to get
the telling off I feel I deserve, but he doesn't care. I'm here,
all worked up and sweating, andhe doesn't care at all. He
brushes it off. Why is heso nice? He says she was a

(30:08):
stupid cow and that I shouldn't worryabout it. With nothing else to say,
no groveling to do, I askif he needs any help, even
though I can't think of anything worse. I just want to run away.
He says he can handle everything.I should focus on my studies and to

(30:29):
try not to let them stress meout. I'll get there. Apparently,
apparently everything will just fall magically intoplace. I head back upstairs, my
mind racing, more sweat on mybrow. I suppose not getting bollocked for
driving a guest away is a goodthing, but I can't let it go.
I still feel like I failed.Everything in my world right now feels

(30:52):
like a failure. Everything is goingwrong and packing up. Well, better,
screw this up. I need tocall his brother. I don't want
to. I don't want to getinvolved. Really, I don't has to
be done. He probably won't thankme, and it might ruin our relationship,
but it is the right thing todo unless it's not. What if

(31:18):
he's taking a positive step forward,finally facing his past and trying to find
a way ahead. It could bethat, So should I interfere? What
if by calling his brother he getsdefensive, or his brother gets the wrong
idea and they end up fighting.Maybe I should give him more time.

(31:40):
But there was the gas this morning. That was probably an accident, not
a serious attempt at suicide. Anddown in that basement as a door it's
nailed shut with wooden planks. That'swhere it happened, and he's never been
able to face it. Could begetting worse. I need to be responsible

(32:02):
and raise the alarm. I don'tneed more people dying on me with disappointment
written all over their faces. Where'smy phone? I left it in the
kitchen for some reason. But Idon't have a signal, because the signal
in the hotel is shit. Ilook outside at the gray, miserable weather.

(32:23):
You can sometimes get a signal inthe garden, but it's pouring it
down. No, I've decided noturning back and hesitating. I put on
my boots and my rain back andI face the rain. It's terrible.
I have to keep wiping water offmy screen so I can see what I'm
doing. The signal bars stay stubbornlylow. I walk all the way to

(32:46):
the bottom of the garden. Ihold my phone up in the air.
I wipe more water off it.I can't just text him. This stuff
is too big for a text.I'll have to try and call him,
but the phone won't connect. Ifind myself climbing up the rockery. I've

(33:06):
got two bars, two bars.Why isn't that enough. I hit the
call button and nothing happens. Itry again and again, with the phone
against my ear. I catch sightof something in the greenhouse. Is that
a figure behind the glass. Itlooks scrawny and gray. It's hard to

(33:27):
see under the rain water, Butis it looking at me? Grinning at
me? The surprise makes me gaspand I lose my footing. I slip
down the rockery. My legs scrapeagainst the rocks, and my phone slips
from my fingers. I roll ontomy side on the grass. I scream
up into the sky. Both myright leg and one of my palms have

(33:50):
been bruised and scraped. My rightknee thumped against one of the stones,
and it's really painful. As Itry to set up, he appears.
He reaches down to help me tomy feet. I don't know what's happened
to my phone. He finds itin a puddle. The screen is cracked.
There's no good to me now.He helps me back inside, telling

(34:14):
me if we let it dry outit will probably be okay, Like hell,
it will. My leg hurts sobad. He helps me to get
my boots off. He heads tothe kitchen to fetch them frozen peas,
and I limp into the living room. There's a canvas in there. It's
a portrait of his wife, andthe eyes have been slashed through with a

(34:36):
knife. I nearly scream and losemy balance. It's like the charcoal one
in his office, but this onelooks straight at you, he used to.
I feel so dizzy. I letmyself drop into an armchair. I
hear the peas drop in the kitchen. Tiny frozen balls roll across the floor.
He dashes in and cries, OhGod, I'm so sorry. I

(34:58):
didn't mean to startle you. Thepainting is leaning on top of a dining
chair. It was damaged some timeago. Tragically. It's the only full
sized portraits she ever made. Hepicks it up and turns it to face
away from us. I thought Imight be able to repair it, he
asked me. How I'm feeling.How do you think I'm I stop myself

(35:20):
from shouting. He crouches down infront of me. I'm not worried about
me, I say to him,close to tears. I'm worried about you
about me, he says gormlessly.Yes, of course, you you're suddenly
going through your wife's things and talkingabout her art and bringing her back.
I do know you know about allthe things you've been through and it's none

(35:44):
of my business, I know,but if you're having some kind of episode,
I need to know, because well, what will happen to the hotel?
Oh that's not important, not important. It's the winter, no one's
staying here. Well, yes,but you don't have to worry about me.
I'm all right. He almost attemptsa hug, but thinks better of

(36:08):
it and places a hand on myknee before taking that back too. It's
been years since Lisa died. It'sridiculous. I've waited so long to sort
out her things. They're just downthere collecting dust. They could be doing
some good somewhere. What I've realizedis that Lissa will always be a part

(36:29):
of my life. Moving on doesn'tmean that I'm leaving her behind. She's
left me with so many great waysto remember her and celebrate the life she
had. That's all I want todo now. I think it's a good
step for me, another step outinto the real world again. I feel
a tear fall down my cheek.He notices, and, without hesitating,

(36:52):
reaches for a handkerchief in his pocketand wipes it away. For just a
second, he stares into my eyes, and there's some intensity there. He
springs to his feet suddenly and spinsaround, turning his back to me.
He takes a step forward, butthere's nowhere to go. There's only a

(37:13):
wall in front of him. Helooks like he is going to turn his
head to talk to me, buthe can't. I want to say it's
okay, or something to that effect. It won't make things any less awkward,
but it will fill the silence atleast. He finally turns a little.

(37:34):
I suppose we better try to dryout this phone. He makes a
move towards the kitchen for it.Maybe I should put it in the microwave.
I say, maybe just put itby the radiator. I don't think
it will really help much. Itry to stand up and see me struggle.
He sweeps back quickly. It's okay, I say, taking my steps

(37:55):
gingerly. Not as bad as Ifirst thought. I just need to rest
it up. I'm going to liedown. Would you like me to bring
you a drink or some food?No, I say bluntly, I'll look
after myself. Thanks. The onlything I want now is some room to
breathe. I'm so relieved when mybedroom door closes behind me. This is

(38:20):
all too much, my aching body, my aching head. When he explained
it just then, it seemed morepositive, less unhinged, or what do
I know? I'm not a psychologist, insane fucking painting, And that moment
when he looked into my eyes,I don't want to think about that.

(38:44):
I can't deal with that. Now. I watched the rains strike the window.
What the hell did I see inthat greenhouse? Must have been a
reflection of something I hopped to thewindow. There's nothing there now, at
least that I can see. AndI that messed up and out of my

(39:04):
mind, that I'm seeing things toomany questions and no answers, too many
crises and no solutions. I liedown in my bed and actually doze off
from maybe ten to fifteen minutes.I didn't expect to, but I was
just too exhausted. And something driftsin from the depths of my memory and

(39:25):
I sit bolt upright. What wasit? His brother said, You never
know? He play acts acts theway you think you'd expect him to.
I go to my desk and openup my laptop. I can send his
brother an email better safe than sorry, but it won't send. The Wi

(39:45):
Fi is down. I can hearhim in the kitchen. I poke my
head around the door and shout tohim, Yeah, it's been down for
a few hours. Actually, itmust be the storm. I close my
door. I fell, my heartracing again. My head is pounding worse
than ever before. Feel faint.I need to get out of here and

(40:07):
get help, but I'm in nofit state to go anywhere. I lock
the door and lie down on thebed. Maybe if I can just get
some sleep just a little, andI'll get in my car and I'll fetch
them help. Everything is going tobe okay, Everything is going to be
fine. I'm going to go andI'm going to get help soon. You

(40:31):
know, one of the things I'velearned about the dead is they don't really
have much to say about the present. Go up to a ghoul and say,
how are you doing me, oldmacha, and they really don't have
anything to say to you. Theycan't really comprehend that they're dead. They
know it's as a fact, butit's like when you tick the box on

(40:52):
the terms and conditions. They've acceptedthe terms, but you don't really know
what they are are or how theyaffect you. It's just done, and
then you carry on. It's allabout the past with them. Normally they
can't tell you what they've been doingthe last few weeks, months, years,

(41:15):
But ask them about what they wereup to when they still clung to
the mortal coil, and they'll spilltheir guts out for hours on end.
I shouldn't be disappointed how many sortof living people can claim to have actually
spoken to ghosts. Not many honestones, hardly any Probably I just can't

(41:37):
speak to the ghost that I wantto speak to. Perhaps she doesn't want
to speak to me. Maybe everythingI've feared is true, that I've failed
her utterly and I don't have herforgiveness. Perhaps because I let her go,
she'll never come back, and that'smy punishment. And I wasn't there

(42:01):
for her while she suffered. Iwas still playing games. I talked myself
into thinking the distractions were good forher, that I was helping to keep
her spirits high with my little storiesand games and diversions. But they were
really just for me, to keepme safe from thinking about the inevitable.

(42:28):
It's always the same with me.I've always hidden from the world in my
imagination, where I can do whatI want and can't be harmed by anyone
or anything where I'm safe from thedisappointments of trying and failing. I wonder
what made me that way. Maybemy mum dropped me on my head when

(42:50):
I was a baby, Maybe someother trauma made me always retreat to a
place where I can't be hurt.Making things up as always been easier than
living. I'm just like the ghosts. When Lissa died, she took my
future with her. I didn't understanduntil she was gone that everything in my

(43:12):
life was tied up with her.I always did things because she wanted to
do them. She had ideas andambitions, and I strove to help her
with those things, rather than haveany ambition of my own. Not because
they were the things I wanted.I just wanted them for her. Even

(43:35):
a family I wanted because she wantedit. Can't picture one without her.
Without my life really does have nomeaning. I never found one for myself.
She always used to look after me, I failed to look after her.
I don't really believe in fate.Whatever happens happened. Sometimes things appear

(44:01):
to line up. Usually everything's justrandom. My hope is crushed. I
dared let myself believe I might finallyget to talk to her and beg for
forgiveness. That hope has gone.Now it's time to give up that fantasy.

(44:25):
No ifs or but a good thinghas come from my conferences with ghosts.
What I have now is a chanceto not repeat my mistakes. I
have a new purpose, and it'sa good one. I can do something
good and save the life of someoneelse I care about. There's a malign

(44:49):
and dangerous presence in my home,a monster that feeds on the pain and
hurts of others. I've learned plentyso far about its trail of instruction.
It's murder of eight innocent people.I have a chance to vanquish an ancient
evil. What fantasist, what storytellercould ask for more? I have a

(45:14):
chance to save Joey, one ofthe nicest, sweetest, kindest people alive.
There'll be no running away, nodistractions, no flights of fancy.
I Am going to go out witha bang. The author was almost too

(45:36):
easy. The cruel man gained hissenses back rapidly upon his arrival. He
slid so quickly from his slumber,started to gather his strength and stalk his
prey. This man curiously understood whatthe cruel man was. He knew that
he was being haunted by a ghost. That lack of fear made it harder

(46:00):
for the cruel man. At first, they kept him subdued. It wasn't
until the arrival of a woman lesscomfortable with the idea of a wondering spirit,
that he had more to work with. The author was anxious of his
new company. He wished to impressher, and he was curious about the

(46:21):
cruel man. He wanted to discoverwhat his ghost's nature was. That made
it easier to play with them both. He preserved his strength. He made
the old tap to the tap taphere and there moved an object or two
placed a footstep, and with eachmove they became more and more afraid.

(46:46):
But he got impatient. His greedgot the better of him, his insatiable
hunger, his taste for the theatrical. He had to escalate his attack.
The author tried to film him,and what he supposed was a camera.
They looked so different now. Hestruck each one down, driving the man

(47:09):
into a state of terror. Hetried to hide, but the cruel man
unleashed his pent up strength forcing therhythm into his ears, into his mind.
Had he played his hand too quickly, the author still had enough strength
to flee. The cruel man wasfrustrated. He expected him to return,

(47:30):
but when he was hungry, hedid not want to wait. The cruel
man had never left the house before. The inner walls were mapped to his
memory, whether he could see themor not. When he stepped beyond the
four walls, he saw the restof the world as a fog. It

(47:51):
was almost invisible to him. Theonly world he could fully comprehend was in
the house. He assumed he hadsome link to it, perhaps within the
walls, or perhaps he was tiedto those useless bones buried somewhere beneath the
downstairs kitchen. But as he staredinto the outside world, he could sense

(48:14):
something. He could hear his quarry, sense the rhythm he had planted inside
him. He could concentrate and clearhis mind here through the chaotic outer focus
world, and just here, theknocking rhythm he had planted deep within the

(48:35):
author's mind. He felt he couldpull on it, like a fisherman reeling
in a line. He was notso far away. When the author fell
asleep, he was weak enough thatthe cruel man could still reach into him,
bend him to his will, forcehim to return. Though he needed

(48:59):
to satisfy his hunger, he knewhe must prepare for his next prey.
No more falling into dreams. Hewas done with waiting, hiding being less
than he could be. He knewthe woman would make chase and come to
save the Author, so he delayedhis moment of triumph so she could witness

(49:22):
the horror of his expiring. Sheran up the stairs to save him.
He struck her down. He lovedto see them tumble. Then he allowed
her to watch as he embraced theAuthor and ended him slowly. He did
not allow himself too much time toenjoy the kill. He quickly started to

(49:46):
whisper the rhythm into her ears beforethe ambulance men arrived and took her away.
He would need a little time torecover his strength feel fully energized from
the feeding, but there would beno more waiting for his prey to come
and visit in the house. Itwas time to hunt in the wild.

(50:08):
Once he was ready, he stoodon the threshold. He turned his ear
to the wind, channeling out allelse he could hear the rhythm that she
carried inside her. His grip wasnot strong yet, but he did have
his hold. That was enough toguide him. It was the light in

(50:32):
the fog. It was time tostart the chase. I feel like I'm
being pummeled in the head. Iwake up in a fever, sticky,
sweaty, stiff, jointed. Howlong have I been asleep? What time
is it? It's pitch black outside. The only clock I have is my

(50:54):
phone, and it's in pieces somewhereand next to more eyeboprofen in the bathroom.
I know it won't be enough.This is a raging, once in
a lifetime headache, like nothing I'vehad before. It's like a beat,
like some one knocking on the insideof my temple. What's wrong with me?

(51:14):
Even my heart beat seems off.It's weird. It's weird. I'm
even noticing that. Is this whatthe stress is doing to me? The
world is spinning. I flip openmy laptop. It's almost ten at night.
I'd only meant to lie down foran hour, maybe two, Yet
now I feel worse. There's stillno WiFi. This could be psychosomatic.

(51:38):
I could be giving myself a fever. Why was I doing this to myself?
Why am I so feeble, somasarchistic? I find I'm tapping the
table anxiously. I stop myself.Thunder rumbles and rain strikes the window.
I suddenly feel how cold it is? Or is that the fever too?

(52:01):
As he turned the boiler off,I dread to think what he might be
up to. It's freezing, Andjust as I think of him, I
hear sounds from upstairs, loud footsteps. I look up at the ceiling.
Perhaps he's just cleaning out that annoyingwoman's room. It's late, but that

(52:22):
could be it, except the noisecarries on. There are footsteps. They're
moving from one room to another quickly, like he's dashing about. It has
to be more than one person.We couldn't have guests. Surely i'd have
heard if there was a walking I'msupposed to be running things, aren't I

(52:46):
The footsteps sound even louder in reception. There's a land line in his office.
I can still call his brother ifthings get desperate, if his number
is written down somewhere. Slowly Iwalk up the stairs, I reach the
mid landing and I hear some onerun across the hall. Who's there?

(53:07):
I shout. Suddenly, there's noanswer. The hall light comes on.
It's motion sensitive. Why wasn't iton already? All the doors are open,
and his wife's pictures are everywhere.They're propped up against walls. A
few have been hung where other pictureswere hung before. It's the same In

(53:30):
the bedrooms. Sketches are taken tothe wall. Paper canvases are sat in
the chairs, some lie on thebeds. The canvas with the eyes gouged
out was propped up at the endof the hall. As I approach it,
I hear footsteps behind me. Iturn around, but it's too late.
They're gone. They crossed from rightside to left. I'm sure of
it. I run into each roomon the left. I search them all,

(53:52):
but I can't find any one.It happens again, left to right,
now running behind me. When theyknow I'm not looking, they go
into room six. It was definitelysix, the last on the row.
I run to check. I makea shrieking sound. Sh he says he
Suddenly by the stairs. He hashis finger on his lips. I put

(54:15):
both hands over my mouth. Hewalks towards me, careful I'll scare them
off. I found them, hesays, beaming. After all this time,
I've found the ghosts. He standsclose, whispering. What I needed,
what I didn't have before, wasa fresh one and newly bumped off.

(54:36):
It was an entry point. OnceI made contact with her, it
began a whole chain. I couldlink from her back to the next and
the next. Now I have awhole team ghosts stretching back through the generations.
We're going to have a seance,he smiles, holding out his hands,

(54:57):
all of us together, We're goingto summon. Together, we can
bring Lisa back. I catch hishands with mine. Stop this, I
cry. It's hard to speak.I stare into his eyes. You have
to stop this. You can't.You can't speak to the dead. You
know you can't. This is crazy. You need help. Let me help

(55:20):
you, Peter, let me helpyou. He stares back at me.
He's still smiling. There's a soundabove us. We both look up.
Are you sure, he says.There are more footsteps, more and more
of them. They move fast fromroom to room. The lampshades are shaking.
Suddenly he's holding my hands. Hegrasps them tightly, join with us.

(55:45):
He whispers, we can cross overtogether. I tear my hands from
his and push him out the way. He falls into a doorway. As
I dash down the stairs, theexertion causes the thumping in my head to
grow even stronger. I think I'mgoing to fall those last steps, but
I make it, only to collapseagainst the reception desk. My heart's beating

(56:06):
wildly. I slam the office doorshut and reach for the phone, but
there's no dull tone. He's cutthe phone line too. My whole world
is spinning. My brain might explode. I've got to find help for my
safety, my health. And here'sI've got to find help. I go

(56:27):
for my car keys. I haveto risk it. I slip on the
first shoes I find, and Istruggle for the door. I get vertigo
just climbing down the steps from theporch to the car park. Something is
happening to me. My heart isliterally skipping beats. My body is telling
me something is wrong. It's likethere's a pulse thumping from my chest throughout
my body. I can feel itfrom my temple to my toenails. I

(56:52):
think it may knock me off myfeet. I can't walk straight. I
manage to get to my car.Takes me so much effort just to find
the lock with the key. Sittingdown helps I find the ignition more easily
with my teeth gritted. I putit into reverse, then slowly forward down
the slope. I get a sinkingfeeling in my stomach. I feel like

(57:15):
I'm falling. The beat in mybrain is so hard my vision starts to
turn red. I'm almost paralyzed.I roll out of the drive, get
a few feet down the road,and drive straight into a ditch. My
car nose dives in my head,hits the steering wheel. The air bag
hits my face and breaks my nose. The car doesn't turn over. It

(57:37):
balances on the bumper and then tiltsback. The underside groans as it leans
on the tarmac. It rests nearlyvertical. I sit for a moment,
the beat still pulsing in my brain, in my bones, but just a
little less intense. I hear thewindow wiper's thump, back and forth,

(58:00):
back and forth, back and forth. I reach out with my right arm
and find the door handle. Iclick it open slowly. I try to
work my upper body out from behindthe air bag. I grabbed the door
frame and pour myself out. Ispit blood and flop down into a ditch,
landing on my back in the muddywater. That's cold, but I

(58:23):
hardly notice. I think the painsin my head, in at my chest
may break me in half. Myhead may snap off my shoulders like some
one breaking off a piece of celery. I don't want to move. I
want whatever is going on inside meto calm down. I'm so scared.

(58:45):
I think I might be dying.I just lie with the beat pulsing and
my body aching and the cold waterrunning over me. I just hoped that
it might stop, might slow down, might just get a little less painful.
I see someone standing above me onthe road. I can hardly make

(59:05):
out the figure. It's not him. This person is small with long hair.
She's waving to me. I holdup my arm, hoping she might
reach down, trying to help meup, But she just stands there.
She keeps gesturing to me as ifI don't know which way out of the
damned ditch I need to go.I can hear her voice, it's so

(59:30):
hard to make out over the windand the rain and the windscreen wipers.
I roll onto my side and grabonto wet grass. I grab it in
handfuls and pour my chest out ofthe mud. I push my feet into
the soil and push up and graband slowly, I put my palms on
the road and crawl up onto it, lying there on my front. As
I get to my hands and knees, I finally see her clearly, somehow.

(59:55):
It's Claire Parker, and I knowI've gone. She takes a step
towards me, She's about to benddown. Then there's this flash, a
gray blur sweeps past, and shevanishes. There's a scream, a scream
cut off in a moment, She'sgone. I shakily pick myself up onto

(01:00:17):
my feet. Dizziness almost brings meback down again, a stagger back to
the hotel. I've got nowhere elseto go. I walk like a paralytic
drunk up to the driveway, bentforward, staggering, wavering from side to
side, falling to my knees,getting back up again. The pulse returns
in strength. It wants me tofall, it wants to bring me down

(01:00:40):
for good. By the time Iget through the door, I'm down to
a crawl. I'm out of places, to go. I want to get
to my room. It's the onlysafe place I can think of. I
can't look up from the floor becausethe spinning world hurts my eyes. It
intensified the pain. I crawl throughthe door, but standing up, clicking

(01:01:05):
the lock, that's too hard.I can't. I don't have the strength.
I'm dying. I must be howwhy I don't know what's happening to
me. With my last ounces ofstrength, I climb on to the bed,
I grab and I hug my duvet. Tears stream down my cheeks.

(01:01:31):
What a waste? This is it? My time is over? What a
stupid waste. It's my last momentson earth, and all I can think
of is what a disappointment I am. It's my last living moments, and
all I can comprehend is all thedisappointing looks, from my mother to my

(01:01:52):
supervisor, from h to dead ClaireParker looking up at me or down at
me. I've done nothing with mylife, not a goddamn thing. I
feel a presence in the room.Rolling on to my back, I see
faint shadows, figures surrounding me.They watch as he rises up the horrible

(01:02:15):
stick like nan, his arms arelike the branches of a tree. He
holds them out to his sides likean actor, bringing in his applause.
His face is one long, terrifyinggrin. He stands on the mattress and
raises one arm over me as hemoves his bony fingers. I feel my

(01:02:38):
heart stop, then start again,like he's pulling on the strings and making
a play. My body shakes andstarts to panic. His smile opens up.
Saliva drips from his razor teeth andlands on my neck. I can't
scream. I powerless. I'm goingto be killed by nightmare. I'll never

(01:03:05):
wake up again. Poor Claire Parker, she'd outlasted all the others. When
she arrived home from hospital and heardthe knocking, she knew what was coming.
The cruel man even changed his knocking, added one extra to mark his

(01:03:28):
seventh victim, a little joke tomake sure she knew she was next.
She knew she couldn't stay at home. Her flatmate was a performer. She'd
been on tour but had returned totake care of her. Claire was terrified
she would become a target once hefinished with her. She didn't want to

(01:03:50):
risk it. Claire did what shehad to to convince her friend she was
okay and could resume touring. Herlies were just about convincing enough for her
to leave. But what would ClaireParker do now? The cruel man had
followed her home. Craig had cometo hers that night, perhaps led him

(01:04:14):
all the way there. Would henow follow her if she left? How
far and for how long could hefollow her? She couldn't go to her
parents or any of her friends,so she booked an airb and b a
studio that was self contained in atown she'd visited once for a holiday.

(01:04:35):
She packed her bag and left assoon as she was able. Already he
was making his noise, moving thingsaround. She kept seeing things out the
corner of her eye. He couldbe anywhere, watching her getting ready for
her Her hopes were in vain.A few days after arriving in her rented

(01:04:58):
home, the knockcane triump infant leback just as she was about to get
into bed, and then she wastoo afraid to sleep. She knew that
the more she fell into despair,the more she fell into his grasp.
She left the flat before dawn broketo seek a new place to stay.

(01:05:18):
She stayed in a B and Bfor a few nights before moving on to
another airbnb. If she moved quickly, never staying in the same place twice,
would he lose her, forget abouther. But when she was tired,
when she was distracted, when shedared dream of a future where she

(01:05:40):
would survive and carry on, shewould see her hand tapping on her lap,
or feel her foot tapping on theground. His rhythm was inside her.
All she had to do was lether god down for a second,
and she could feel his presence.She was running out of time, she

(01:06:02):
was running out of money. Hewould never leave her alone. She had
to do something. She was givingup hope. Slowly, a plan came
to her. She found a homeand an occupied house for sale. She
broke in and set up a roomfor herself. She lived discreetly in the

(01:06:24):
house for a day or two,waiting for him to come. She laid
her sleeping bag down in the bedroom. She allowed herself only the first night
to sleep. Each night after shestayed awake, she lay with a strip
of barbed wire at each side sothat she would wake if she rolled to

(01:06:45):
her sides or her arms dropped fromher chest. She placed a heavy stone
on her left side and half abrick on her right. She used incense
and weed to try to stay calm, though they made her sleepy too.
He did not come on the secondnight, which made it so much harder.

(01:07:06):
On the third. She kept slippingaway and then snapping awake before she
could be stung by the wire.He barely made a sound when he entered
the house, but she could sensethat he was near. She felt his
rhythm stir inside her. She kepther eyes closed, listening for footsteps.

(01:07:30):
They were so light they were almostsilent. When she smelled his rancid breath
against her cheek, when she feltthe beat in her mind and her heart
spread spread throughout her body. Determinedly, she stayed calm. She stayed still.
She had seen him touch and molesther friend. He had struck her

(01:07:53):
down a flight of stairs. Ifhe could become solid, then surely he
could be her. At two,she reached for the brick and smashed it
against his head. The monster letout a warped shriek. He crumbled like
a pile of sticks. By thebed. She had saved a piece of

(01:08:14):
copper pipe to deliver a fatal beating, but he still had the strength to
activate the rhythm that beat inside her. As she was ready to strike him,
she felt an incredible clasping pain inher chest. Her heart seemed to
stop. She gasped for breath.It started to beat again, but he

(01:08:34):
wrenched back control. A moment later, her body was fighting against him and
she was losing. She lost herbalance, she felt her strength drain away.
She was too far gone. Shestumbled out of the room and escaped
to the back door. Her suitcasewas there waiting. Wherever she went,

(01:09:00):
was always packed and ready for her. It took hours for her head to
clear, for the beat and thepain to die down. She was almost
spent. She had only so muchfight left in her. Where could she
go where it would not hunt herdown. She'd proven it could be hurt,

(01:09:23):
but she had failed to kill it. Now it would be on its
guard. Would she get a secondchance. It would never give up.
She could still hear the knocking sound. He would be back for revenge.
She had no doubt about it.But what could she do. Despite her

(01:09:45):
exhaustion, her fatigue, her resignation, had she any choice but to try
again? She slept a little ona bench found her way to a store
that sold knives. She thought aboutusing them on herself, but decided against
it. She would go out fighting. She walked miles into the country.

(01:10:12):
She thought she might make her laststand out in the open, smelling the
trees and grass and the fresh airone last time. But she might not
hear him come, and it wascertain to rain, so she walked a
few miles more. Using her phone, she found her way to my hotel.

(01:10:34):
She had no idea if her creditcard would work. She had no
idea if she had any money left. I showed her to her room,
where she allowed herself for a fewhours to sleep. She could barely stop
herself. She'd put much less distancebetween herself and him this time, despite

(01:10:56):
the many miles she'd walked. He'dcatch up with her so much quicker she
had to keep awake. She usedthe last of her incense and weed to
calm her, though it had littleeffect. She kept on waiting, but
he did not come thundering straight toher for revenge. He took his time.

(01:11:18):
She was crippling herself with exhaustion.She should have known he'd seek to
prolong it make her suffer more.He arrived, and he waited, and
he watched. She slipped slowly intoa delirium. She was too helpless to

(01:11:39):
take any action. By the timeshe felt his rhythm grow and slowly take
her over completely, she had nostrength left to scream. As her heart
gave way. She slipped from thebed and collapsed to the floor, dying
with barely a whimper. His mostspirited prey died so quietly in the end.

(01:12:11):
Claire Parker can understand her situation morethan the others. She doesn't just
know that she is dead. Shecan, to some extent, understand what
it means and describe what it's liketo be in the dark, to be
there but not there, to havea kind of existence that was like being

(01:12:31):
a shadow, sometimes growing, sometimesfading, sometimes hardly real at all.
Why is she different to the others. She's more recently dead, But why
should that make her unique? Didthe mental faculties of ghosts fade over time

(01:12:54):
like a sort of aging? Wereyou at your most enlightened soon after dying?
Why was I able to speak toany of them at all? Together?
We formed a kind of hypothesis.We think that the cruel man,
as he has grown stronger and moredeadly, that some of his power has

(01:13:15):
somehow been absorbed by his victims,and just as he has risen become more
and more alive, they too havebegun to return from the dead. Claire
Parker didn't know what she was atfirst, and didn't remember where she was.
It would have been distressing if shehad the faculties capable of creating distress

(01:13:40):
without her body, those natural instinctswere dulled. They'd faded too. She
didn't lie in darkness for long afterdying, and it was all because of
her friend, the writer who haddied before her, his familiar voice,
his compassion for her. He blamedhimself for her death. His sorrow called

(01:14:04):
to her and brought her out ofthe shadows. Whether this hypothesis is true
or not, who am I tosay? It all sounds bonkers, especially
from a bonker's type like me.There are so many questions, so many
things. It's hard for the rationalbrain to make sense of. I just

(01:14:28):
have to make the best sense ofit that I can. This thing we
do know, the cruel man mustbe stopped. It was obviously intended to
make Joey his next target. FindingClaire's body failing to save her, hadn't
moored her, left her vulnerable.There are other issues whe her personal and

(01:14:50):
professional life. I didn't want toprobe too closely, but she's been greatly
upset by someone, and they inarguing very late into the evening. It
wasn't enough for him to make hismove, not yet. She hadn't reached
a significant enough level of distress,and that left us with an uncomfortable choice.

(01:15:13):
We could either wait for her conditionto get worse, to stand back
and watch while he found ways toupset her and terrify her further, or
we could take the situation in hand. After expending so much energy on hunting
down Claire, the monster would enjoyan easy meal if laid out for him.

(01:15:35):
Considering my let's say, eccentric personaand the worries I had already stirred
up in Joey, it wouldn't bemuch of a stretch to convince her that
I had taken a one way,all access VIP ticket to Crazyville. She's
a caring creature. Watching me goup the wall and across the ceiling,

(01:15:58):
I knew she'd be distressed at thethought of me hurting myself. The cruel
man was unlikely to see me asa threat, probably more like an asset.
I'd do the work for him,wind Joey up and leave her ready
for him to take his fill.Claire Parker was right. He could be

(01:16:19):
hurt, and if he could behurt, he could presumably be killed too.
Once he appeared in the flesh,I would be waiting for him.
This is not a plan I like. I do not want to place Joey
in a trap, leave her thereas bait. But she wouldn't believe me

(01:16:42):
if I told her what was goingon? Why would she? And she'll
die If I do nothing, otherswill die too. I took no pleasure
in the games I played on her, leaving on the gas, ranting about
Lyssa's things, breaking her phone thefirst chance I got the performance upstairs.

(01:17:06):
I hated doing that to her.I'm so thankful to have had her in
my life. She's one of thefew bright spots in my post listle world.
I hope she'll be able to forgiveme for what I've done. It's
not just to save her, it'sto put an end to this evil and

(01:17:27):
to finally give his victims a chanceto rest. I get to play hero,
after all. I crouch behind thecounter in reception. I hear Joey
tumble through the door and watch asshe crawls across the floor. Tears flow
down my face, but I cando nothing to help her, not yet.
I move to the end of thedesk. I watch. I see

(01:17:50):
walking slowly across the hall, theoutline of a man. His image fades
in as he approaches the door toher room, the lines of his sinewy,
gristly body color with a sickly paleshade. This figure is all wrong.
It looks more like a praying mantisthan a man. The sounds Joey

(01:18:15):
makes her awful, more so asthey get quieter. She doesn't have much
time left. It's now or never. I have the ends of a cable
wrapped around my wrists. I creepto the doorway, hide where he can't
see me. I step inside,noose in my hands, take a few
quiet steps towards him. I takea leap onto the bed and drop it

(01:18:39):
over his head, And before heknows what's happened, I bounce back off,
land on the floor and yank thecord. The noose titans and the
sound he makes could split the atom. I don't stop. I can't.
He hits the floor and I turn, throwing the cable over my shoulder and
making a charge into the hall.His long limbs fail around as I pull

(01:19:02):
him across the carpet. I can'tlet him gain a foothold. I turn
so I can pull with extra forceto stop him getting a grip on the
bedroom door frame. Then it's backover the shoulder, one step in front
of the other, pulling him alongas hard as I can. Down to
the basement. We must go.I get to the bottom of the stairs

(01:19:25):
as it rolls into the doorway,facing it with both hands. I pull
it through the door. It's notstruggling. Now have I broken its neck?
I reel it down. It thumpson each step and lands in a
heap at the bottom. He seemsto be dead, but I can't take
that chance. I drag him tothe middle of the room, pull him

(01:19:46):
close to the pire made of Lyssa'sbelongings. Before I dare lift him on
top, I grab a heavy silvercandlestick. I stand over him, ready
to bash his brains in. Itake a chance and I touch his sticky,
cold flesh. It doesn't stir.He does not move, so,

(01:20:10):
with the candlestick close by, Ilift him from under the shoulders, then
turn and roll him onto the pire. I breathe in the sweet stench of
petrol. I run up the stairsto the door, taking my eyes off
him for never more than a second, and I pull the door to the

(01:20:30):
Matches are ready on top of thedryer. I strike one and survey the
scene. I take a deep breath. I flick the match. The rush
of air when it catches fire itforces me to step back. The shriek
is like an explosion between my ears. I reach again for the candlestick,

(01:20:54):
ready to prevent any attempt to escape. The last I see of it before
the room fills with smoke is itslimbs, twisting and struggling. I stop
listening to its noise. I'm coughing. I can't breathe. I don't know
when it stops. I'm starting tobend double. I let the candlestick go.

(01:21:18):
I don't give in to the survivalinstinct to run for safety. This
is the end of my game,my final move. I hope to God
Joey can escape and he hasn't hurther too badly. We have fire doors.
We have an alarm loud enough towake the dead. She should She

(01:21:41):
must get out before it's too late. My time has come. Whatever Lissen
may think of me and how Ifailed her, she can't deny that,
in this thing, this crazy thing, I have succeeded. I didn't run
or hide. I finally did somethingto make her proud of me. She

(01:22:08):
has to forgive me now, shemust is that her. I see a
figure in the smoke on my handsand knees, cannot breathe, and my
lungs are giving in. She knowsmy time isn't he She bends down to

(01:22:30):
pick me up. I use mylast strength to throw myself into her arms.
She has forgiven me. We're togetheragain, My love, have you
been? Can't tell you how muchI've missed you, stupid idiot. I

(01:22:58):
try to pick him up, andhe grabs on to me and almost palls
me down with him. I canbarely see a thing. I can hardly
see where I've come from to findmy way back. I can barely keep
myself up. He's not walking,He's holding onto me for dear life.
His head is buried into my shoulder, but he's not moving. His legs.

(01:23:18):
My body is so weak. Thesmoke is overwhelming. I can hear
things snapping and breaking in the fire. I'm desperately trying to hold my breath.
I can't carry him up the stairs. I drag him on his back.
Even when we get onto the landing, there's still too much smoke.

(01:23:38):
I can't get any air. Ileave him just for a moment so I
can throw open the doors to thehotel. The sudden intake of air brings
me to my knees. I'm awreck. I don't have the strength for
this, but I crawl back,get up to my feet again and drag
him out of the door and unkindlydown the steps until we're outside in the

(01:23:59):
car park. I fall down.I lie next to him, both of
us on our backs. I'm soout of it. I forget to check
if he's still breathing. Suddenly hebreathes in and starts to cough, and
I feel relief wash over me.I see the flames break free from the
basement windows. Smoke is billowing upto the sky through the front door.

(01:24:23):
If I'm going to go back tosave my research, I have to go
now. I have to go anddo it now, But I'm not going
to I can't. I don't haveit in me. That's going to go
up too, It's all going togo up. Who's going to call the
fibrigade. I'm not sad, I'mnot angry. I don't know what to

(01:24:47):
do or what to think. Idon't know what's happened. Something tried to
kill me. I think he triedto stop it, then he tried to
die. Maybe he won't thank mefor saving him. I don't care.
I just lie back and watch asit all goes up and smoke. The

(01:25:19):
hotel is a mess. It didnot quite burn to the ground. Those
pesky fire safety precautions essentially did theirjob. If we had guests, they
would have all survived. Nice forthem, but having the place still standing
has caused us all sorts of problemsand the lack of ways to pay for

(01:25:41):
them. You can't claim off theinsurance when it's pretty obvious you set the
thing on fire yourself. Thankfully,my reputation for being unhinged has prevented any
criminal charges, tho I was barelyable to keep myself out of the madhouse
this time. Though the hotel stillstands, the smoke destroyed most of my

(01:26:02):
belongings. I lost almost everything,but I gained quite a lot too.
I don't believe in fate or destiny. I'm not sure what I believe in
now. I shouldn't be alive,but I think it would be churlish to
deny that I am alive. Afterso many attempts to be dead, to

(01:26:27):
live like the dead, but tonot actually be dead, you have to
take the hint. Eventually, Iam a real, living and breathing human
being. Goodbye, mister ghostly,you are no more. I am a
phoenix risen from the ashes. That'sa good story. I can get behind

(01:26:49):
that. A man reborn a hero, but not quite a hero a villain.
But in part there has been andI will be again. I did
it think about changing my name fora time, but she said not to

(01:27:12):
because it would be silly, soI didn't. There were no bones in
the fire. That's saved the someawkward questions. We think he must be
dead. We've heard no more tapping, and there have been no more conversations
with ghosts. Not everything was destroyedin the fire. Miraculously, the smoke

(01:27:38):
didn't destroy Joey's research. Most ofit was salvageable, and yet she didn't
seem too happy about it. Thepaintings I took upstairs survived too. I'm
glad I didn't lose them all.She'd never have forgiven me. I've paid
for someone to repair the eyes inthe portrait. We will finally be able

(01:28:01):
to look at each other eye toeye again. No more bad dreams.
And because they were sealed up ina suit case, Claire Parker's belongings also
survived. In time, they werereunited with her parents. I wish I
could have said how brave she was, how we might not be alive to

(01:28:25):
day if it wasn't for her.But nothing I could have said would have
made sense to them. More thanlikely it would have added to their sorrow
and confusion. Perhaps they'll hear thisstory one day. It's not much,
but at least her things found theirway home and she gets to rest.

(01:28:47):
Now feels good to be outside.I've taken to walking. There's nothing I
love more than taking a long trekinto the hills and deep into the woods,
smelling the grass and the flowers,feeling the breeze on my face,
listening to the birds in the trees. I just set off head out without

(01:29:11):
a map, and I never knowwhere I'm going to and where I'll end
up in the end. Every dayit's a new adventure. I don't think
i'll ever really know or understand whathappened that night. I've asked him to
explain it to me more than once, and I've never exactly had the same

(01:29:34):
answer back, although who is veryupset that first time, very apologetic,
so that might count for some ofthe discrepancies. It's difficult all of this
for someone academically minded to accept.On principle. I don't really go in

(01:29:55):
for the impossible, but I knowthat I was almost killed by something unspeakable.
I believe it probably killed Claire Parkertoo. I'm not much sure about
anything else. It will be easyto write off all that Peter said if
I hadn't seen some effect myself.I've never spoken about it before. If

(01:30:18):
I were examining events from an outsider'sperspective, I couldn't believe it. I'd
have all kinds of hypotheses for whatreally happened. I'd thought long and hard
about what many of them might be, but it just doesn't make sense.
Whichever way I tried to piece ittogether. He's so much happier now.

(01:30:41):
He's still a handful. Still driveshis brother crazy, but it doesn't do
anything too crazy. Odd, yes, but not crazy. The irony of
it all is that I came outlooking like a hero. I saved a
man's life. We were written aboutin some of the papers. I never

(01:31:02):
talked to any journalists and I avoidedthe attention. But it meant that when
I returned to campus, people weretalking about me for a completely different reason
than I dreaded they might. Youmight think i'd enjoy it, the positive
reaction, that I might feel relievedabout it, but I didn't. I

(01:31:24):
found that I hated people thinking anythingabout me at all. If it weren't
for the fire, things could havebeen very different. I might have walked
into the department with the words likeslut and suspended without pay being thrown around.
I was still the same person regardlessof this deed, or that it

(01:31:45):
was just by chance that they thoughtof me one way instead of the other.
I hated having to care about it. I hated that it mattered.
It shouldn't matter. I welcome mydissertation eventually, I still do bits and
pieces of it. But it willbe in my own time and not anyone

(01:32:08):
else's. It is what I wantto do, but it's just not the
only thing I might want to do. Mum isn't happy about my decision,
but it's my decision and not hers. Life's too short to worry about this
person or that, and it's toolong to worry about what might have happened
on any given day. There's timeto work things out, time to find

(01:32:31):
a purpose that makes sense for me. No one else gets to say what
that is except me. I amthe kind of person who enjoys books and
research and theories. But I'm alsothe kind of person who can save someone
from a burning building. I mayhave potential that I've never explored. I

(01:32:51):
won't ever find out if I onlyspend my time looking at books, or
spend my time worrying about what otherpeople might think of me. I may,
in the end find myself back amongstthe books and manuscripts. And if
that's where my journey ends, itwill be wonderful. It will be a
good thing because it will be mychoice. It doesn't matter where I end

(01:33:13):
up. All that matters is thatI get to choose the path and the
pace, and that I get toknow myself and what I really want on
the way. It's a funny sortof place, a hotel. It's like
a rest stop for people as theymove from one chapter to the next,
or perhaps more of an interval apage between the chapters. Thank you for

(01:33:50):
listening to season four of the NewGhost Stories podcast. If you've enjoyed the
podcast and would like to support whatI do, please leave a review on
any platform and make sure you subscribeto find out about future releases. The
podcast is written, presented, andproduced by me, David Paul Nixon,

(01:34:10):
and features a guest appearance by KarinaCollier marsh as Joey. If you'd like
to hear about new episodes, pleasesubscribe to my free Substacknugos Stories dot substack
dot com, and you can ofcourse get updates from me on a variety
of social media platforms if you searchfor at Newgo Stories. Thank you and goodbye.