Nine to Midnight

SFX. The Creaking of Wooden boards, the subtle breaking of glass. Muffled audio. 

Dylan (To Jessica from outside the building): No, hold it there. Yes, a little more. 

SFX. An audible snap as the wooden board breaks. 

FOLEY ALL: Short Celebratory Sound from everyone (ex. Yes, Awesome, Perfect) 

JESS: Let me look, let me look. (a beat) Oh… yesssss. Fuck ya. Okay, here, Nathan hold this for a second…. Thanks. 

SFX. Climbing through a broken window. The splintering of glass and the scuffing sound of sneakers on linoleum. The click of a flashlight and a slow whistle. 

JESS: (Whistling in awe) Yea, okay, perfect. 

COLE: (Shouting through the hole): Jess? 

JESS: (To herself) Yes. (Then to the hole) Yes, this is gonna be perfect. 

SFX. RUSTLING. 

COLE: Can you make the hole bigger? 

JESS: (a beat) ummmm…. Maybe, there’s a grate. I’ll need help. 

SFX. Walla muffled audio. 

COLE: K. sit tight. 

SFX. A beat passes where Jess looks around. 

JESS: (To herself) *soft sigh* wow. Guys, it’s crazy in here. The elevators are shot, all the chairs have been tossed. There’s debris from the ceiling tiles… this was definitely the waiting room. It’s abandoned alright but… not like in a typical way…

SFX. Movement from the passageway. 

HARLAN: Little help? 

JESS: Oh sorry yes. 

HARLAN: Tight…. Squeeze. Ugh. 

SFX. Again the passing through of a broken door. Harlan lands on the glass floor. 

HARLAN: Oh wow. 

JESS: Right?!

HARLAN: Jamie, where did you hear about this place? 

JAMIE: (still outside) What?

HARLAN: Oh, sorry, here I can open it wider from this side. 

SFX. The sound of a heavy metal grate being opened. 

JESS: I think the door can open now… lemme…

SFX. A click and a squeak, the door is open and a plethora of movement and dialogue signifies the room building being entered. 

JEREMY: Hoooooo shit, Jamie… you weren’t lying. 

JAMIE: (Jokingly) How dare you doubt me. Nathan I’m putting that on you. 

NATHAN: What? Why me? 

JAMIE: You’re a team, aren’t you?

Dylan: (Interrupting) Shhhhhh listen. 

SFX. We hear nothing but the wind outside and the thrum of ambience in the room. 

RAT: I don’t hear anything? 

a beat. 

Dylan: I know. 

RAT: You did say listen—

COLE: (interrupting) I’m sure you can hear the creaking pipes or settling bricks if we’re quiet long enough. 

JEREMY: Unlikely given the present company. 

JAMIE: I’m choosing to pretend that isn’t about me. 

JEREMY: It wasn’t.  

NATHAN: Dick. 

SFX. Movement of feet to the distance. 

HARLAN: Jess, what’s over there? 

JESS: I don’t know, bed’s maybe? Mattresses, I guess. 

RAT: Jess, you said it doesn’t look abandoned “in a typical way”…?

JESS: Ya look. Normally you’d have graffiti, or garbage, right?

RAT: (Thinking) Oh… true…

JESS: Nothing, see? Still obviously abandoned but just… not occupied? If that makes sense?

RAT: ya… weirdly it does… hey Jamie? 

JAMIE: Yo. 

RAT: (as if just seeing him) Oh, hey. (A beat) Why here? 

JAMIE: (as if reciting) Morris Dunlaw Psychiatric Hospital was home to some of the most horrific and inhuman treatments… in the area. 

JEREMY: In the area? 

JAMIE: There was a worse one but who wants to drive over an hour on Halloween. 

NATHAN: (correcting him) Hallow’s eve or something, isn’t that the name of it? – All Hallows Eve. 

HARLAN: Definitely sounds scarier. 

JEREMY: Sounds more pretentious. 

COLE: It sounds formal and fuck it, we can be formal here. (a beat) So where are we doing this thing? 

RAT: We could do it here? Front hall, close to the entrance. 

JESS: In case of emergency. 

HARLAN: Oh wait….

SFX. Movement to the side. 

JAMIE: What are we waiting for? 

RAT: He’s building to something. 

JEREMY: He just walked away. 

HARLAN: (Shouting) Here!

SFX. We hear doors move in the distance. Then the group’s movement. Through a set of doors. 

NATHAN: Woah…. What the fuck was this? 

COLE: Looks like a clinic or something.

JESS: No it looks like an operating room, but they wouldn’t put that on the first floor…

RAT: Whatever it is – it’s perfect. Look at the machines, they’re old but they look like hardly a day has passed. How weird is that? 

JAMIE: Dylan, is it perfect? This was more your idea than anyone’s.

Dylan: It is.

NATHAN: So, what is the plan then, I don’t think Jeremy and I are fully in the loop here. 

JEREMY: Happy to be along, mind you. 

Dylan: Let’s find a spot to sit. 

NATHAN: (a beat) on the floor? 

JESS: Yes, Nathan. 

NATHAN: Okay! Just checking. 

COLE: Why are there gurneys here? 

SFX. Movement. 

COLE: I’m asking… no one? 

RAT: I don’t know, honestly. 

COLE: Fair, but I can’t be the only one recognizing this for what it is. 

A beat. Next lines almost over each other. 

JAMIE: Slasher flick setup…

COLE: Slasher flick setup.

Dylan: Thanks for coming, all. 

HARLAN: Of course, I think we all agreed. 

NATHAN: Agreed to what? Dylan?

A long beat. 

Dylan: Let’s just sit for a second. 

SFX. Everyone sits, the sound grows quiet and the wind can be heard outside. 

Dylan: (slow and as if telling a traumatic memory) When I was a kid, we didn’t have much money. Birthday’s, Christmas, none of it really went through our house. I grew up thinking none of the holidays were all that important…. (a beat) that they didn’t really matter to me and truth be told they didn’t. All of them were just postcard lies… but not Halloween. 

On Halloween, we celebrated. I don’t know how it started, or why, but we always did. No matter what. 

We didn’t have anything to hand out, obviously, so instead – for the kids that really needed it – we put on a trick. A scare. A way to get the neighborhood ready for the season – the right way. 

After all, a scare is free, right? 

A long beat. 

One year, one of the last before my brother left for school, we decided to really live it up. We had a course – (as if correcting himself) a, a maze – the kids could walk through; made of garbage bins and sheet metal. There was a table full of shaved Styrofoam we had scored from the garbage trucks that parked on our street to use as horrible body parts – all of it was pretty tame thinking back, but we found some paint to make it all real. 

Buckets of it – my brother said he found it near the dump and it was perfect. 

We lathered ourselves in it, staining every piece of clothing we had with the thick, red paint. We poured it all over our fake body parts and slathered it on the walls of the maze.

A beat. 

The whole night, no one noticed it had an off putting, iron-like smell. 

It wasn’t until that night as I showered, that I even noticed the broken piece of tooth in my hair. 

A beat. 

The police had to be called, to make sure it wasn’t human. Apparently, some people get rid of evidence on Halloween that way. 

My mom told us it was a pig, that a local farm had just decided to dump the blood there and that it was a fluke accident but…

(To himself) I know. Animal teeth don’t look like that. 

A long beat. 

COLE: Jesus. That’s fucked up. Dylan: (quickly) No. (pause) It’s a story. We’re all storytellers. In one way or another we’ve each told our fair share of horror stories and tonight; we’re going to do it again. Well how about you, Harlan?

Well, shit. 

Alright… I got one. A few years back, before Amazon became a big thing and eBay was the online store most people used, I tried to buy a rare book. Nothing special, my grandfather had an obsession with Rosicrucianism, eh, doesn’t matter. 

Anyway I found a copy online, chatted with the guy, actually chatted with him too, like – phone calls. He ended up being a really chill guy I thought, said he came into the book through a death or some such thing. 

I ended up picking up the book after work one night. I worked at a movie rental place at the time, it was around 11:30 when I arrived at the building… so I called him…

[Transition to phone conversation]

Harlan: Hey man, I’m here. 

Mark: Hey! Perfect, how was work? 

Harlan: Good, slow but good. 

Mark: Nice man. Did you wanna come up? 

Harlan: Ya, what number was it again? 

Mark: 309,  I’ll buzz you in. 

Harlan: Cool…. Give me oneeee sec. 

Mark: No worries. 

Harlan: [SFX. Walking up.]

Mark: Cold out? 

Harlan: Yes, almost gonna snow I think.

Mark: Damn. 

Harlan: Ya, okay, 30….. 9? 

Mark: Ya. 

Harlan: I don’t see it….

Mark: Oh ya it’s worn out you can’t even tell, duh. 

Harlan: Oh hahaha. 

Mark: Ya sorry, it’s the top…. Right one I think? 

Harlan: It’s worn out so I guess.

Harlan: [SFX. Buzz.]

Mark: There. Oh… it’s not working. 

Harlan: What? 

Mark: Ugh, my fucking buzzer its… ya… sorry man. Are you cool to come in the back way? 

Harlan: Uhhhh…. Suuuuure? You can’t just meet me down here with it? 

Mark: Honestly I would man but my cat is gonna run out the minute I open the door and I gotta keep her in. 

Harlan: O…okay. Sure. What is, around back? 

Mark: Ya, the back door isn’t locked hahaha it’s so dumb. 

Harlan: Okay. Ya sure. I’ll call you back…

Mark: Nah, just… just stay on the line. In case you don’t get in, or can’t find it….

Harlan: Mark…

Mark: Or not, I don’t care man, call me back then. 

Harlan: No… no okay…. That’s fine. Which side is easiest…

Mark: The left, just go around the left side. 

Harlan: Okay.  

Harlan: [SFX. Walking]

Harlan: I don’t see…

Mark: So are you working again tomorrow? 

Harlan: Ya…

Mark: And it was slow tonight? 

Harlan: Ya… 

Mark: That’s weird for a weekend, right? 

Harlan: Sometimes, I dunno, depends on what’s out….

Mark: Totally. I rent all the time. I’m sure I’ve seen you there. 

Harlan: At work? 

Mark: Probably!

Harlan: Ya maybe…

Mark: You must chat with… 

Harlan: Mark I don’t… it’s really dark back here. 

Mark: Ya those stupid motion lights. They don’t really work well. 

Harlan: Okay… but I can’t see, man. 

Mark: It’s okay the door is to your left, it’s down a set of stairs.

Harlan: Down? What is this the basement? 

Mark: Ya! The basement, that’s the door they leave open. 

Harlan: I…. I dunno about this….

Mark: What? 

Harlan: Honestly you seem nice but I’m not really comfortable with this, I don’t see a way down and I can’t really see anything back here and I… I think I’m just gonna jet if that’s cool…

Mark: Harlan I’m sorry, let me… I didn’t mean to scare you. 

Harlan: I’m not… I’m just, I think I’m good. 

Mark: Look I’ll come down, okay? I’ll give you the book right at the front door, cool? 

Harlan: …… ya okay. 

Mark: Listen, I’m leaving the apartment right now. No, stay, Annie, stay…. Okay I’m coming, cool? 

Harlan: Ya okay. I’ll come back I guess. 

Mark: Cool. Look, that took no time, I’m here now. 

Harlan: Okay. Sorry, Sorry about the cat, I’ll see you in a second. 

Mark: Oh damn. I forgot your book. 

Harlan: Oh… I’m coming back now. 

Mark: I’ll go grab it quick. 

Harlan: Right. 

Harlan: [SFX. Walking.]

Harlan: Okay… I’m at the door now. —- Mark? Mark? 

Mark: Hey!

Harlan: Hey I’m at the door, it’s still shut. 

Mark: No I left it ajar, it should be open just push…

Harlan: Oh, ya it is… okay. 

Mark: Oh good. I was like, “oh no do I have to run down again” hahaha.

Harlan: So, you coming back down? 

Mark: Hey man, I’d really appreciate if you came up. My cats just practically bolted out.

Harlan: Cats? How many you got…

Mark: Three actually. 

Harlan: Oh ya… you made it sounds like you only had one.

Mark: No no, I love em. 

Harlan: Okay..

Mark: 309. 

Harlan: Ya…. Stairs easiest? 

Mark: Yep. 

Harlan: Okay, I’ll… uh…. Talk to you in a second.

Harlan: [SFX. Walking.]

Mark: Hold on. 

Harlan: What? 

Mark: I wanna show you something. 

Harlan: What? 

Mark: Don’t hang up yet, I wanna show you something. 

Harlan: Mark, man, I… 

Mark: No, it’s fine. It’s nothing scary. 

Harlan: Okay. 

Mark: Keep going up the stairs. 

Harlan: [Sigh.]

Harlan: [SFX. Walking.]

Harlan: Man I….

Mark: Keep going. 

Harlan: Mark….

Mark: Are you on the second floor yet? 

Harlan: I dunno…. Yea basically. 

Mark: Are you…. Or aren’t you. 

Harlan: I am. 

Mark: Look down the hall. 

Harlan: Okay. 

Mark: Are you looking? 

Harlan: Ya….

Mark: Do you see anything? 

Harlan: No. 

Mark: Just wait. 

Harlan: Mark, I don’t see anything. I don’t really want to…. Mark? [pause] Mark? 

[SFX. Dial tone.]

Harlan: Fuck. Fuck this. 

[SFX. Walking. Back into car. Breathe. Phone ring.]

Harlan: (Shock) ah. Hello? 

Mark: Did you see him? 

Harlan: Mark, I dunno what that was about but keep the book, I don’t want it anymore. Don’t call me again. Okay? [pause] Okay? 

Mark: Don’t worry. He saw you.

[Back to the group]

It turned out the building was abandoned. I deleted the number. Ever since then I’ve always felt like someone had been watching over my shoulder. 

Kevin: Boo!

Shaun: Sorry all, Kevin here thought he could find a quicker way than the suggested route.

Kevin: (dismissively) I will continue to support the good fight by using mapquest (to the group) hey all. 

Shaun: I didn’t hear the story but we caught the tale end of it, jesus this place is perfect. 

Harlan: you missed a good one… sorta, grab a seat. 

Shaun: on the floor? 

Nathan: Yes Shaun. 

Kevin: So, the deal is as discussed? We all go around telling spooky stories? 

Dylan: More or less.

Shaun: Okay, well who’s up next?

Alright, [Clap hands together.] story time! So, here’s a strange thing about me that not everybody knows: I really like to go camping in the woods, alone. Completely alone, deep forest, quote-unquote “backwoods camping” which is just what people normally think of when they think of camping. No campgrounds, build-your-own firepit, poop in a hole you dug, stuff like that. Most of my friends think that it is too scary to be off-the-grid like that, which is fine because I don’t want them to go with me. That’s sort of the point. It’s not that off-the-grid. It’s a short hike back to my car and then a 20 minute drive until you’re at a gas station. Civilization is everywhere. I am only pretending to have escaped it. 

People sometimes ask me if I’m scared of getting attacked by animals. No, not really. There aren’t any wolves or bears where I go camping. Raccoons and feral cats smell food cooked over the fire and try to steal it, which is annoying but not especially dangerous. Man has fended for himself against the ravages of nature for 250,000 years and for most of that time none of them owned a machete. I own a machete. I think I can handle a possum if it gets too close to my tent. 

I like to get out in the woods at least once a year for a few days. It’s nicest when it’s fall and the temperatures are generally within tolerable levels for hiking in the day and sleeping at night, but before Daylight Savings Time ends and it starts to get dark at 5pm. So, one might even say that the story I am about to tell you happened [spooky voice] on a night just like tonight.  OoooOOOOooooh! That’s just a coincidence, though. Or is it? Yeah, it is. 

It was 2 or 3 years ago, pretty much to the day. I headed out to somewhere that I had been before, inside of a national forest that allows backwoods camping. I tend to go to the same few places every time because I have found places that I know that I can be completely alone. I know where I can go and not see another living human being until I decide to leave. That’s one of the purest forms of freedom that there is: freedom from perception. Hell is other people and all that. I could do literally anything that I wanted to in that forest and no one would ever know, unless I tell them. I make a habit of never telling anyone what I do in the forest. I mean, how many things that are central to your life are just yours? Things that nobody else knows about? It makes me feel… in control… to have that side of myself that nobody will ever learn about. Maybe it’s a totally benign side. Maybe I’m just hanging out in the woods not doing anything. But only I know it and that is exactly how I like it. 

I had set up camp and everything was going smoothly. I arrived in the afternoon and by the time I had set up my tent, dug a latrine, and built a firepit, it was already getting dark. I gathered firewood, made a fire, and roasted a hot dog over it. Everything was off to a good but normal start. No bad omens. Did you know that over 90% of deaths are caused by ignoring bad omens? Look it up, it’s true.

It wasn’t until I got in my tent to go to sleep that something began to feel off. Normally there are a lot of sounds in the night. Rustling, tree branches snapping, coyotes howling. It was a clear night. The nocturnal animals should have been out and about, eating and drinking and fighting each other. It felt eerie. It felt like a cue from everything else in the forest that something was wrong. 

Before I could make up my mind whether I should get up, find my machete in my pack, and go see if I could investigate what was causing the notable lack of commotion in the forest or hide in my tent and hope that whatever it was wasn’t concerned with eating or fighting me, I finally heard a sound. [Raps on wood loudly.] Like that. Not a pleasant return to the nocturnal status quo, but rather something much more akin to a door knocking. If you aren’t familiar: the middle of the forest is renowned for it’s complete lack of doors. A demand side problem: plenty of wood but no one to walk through one. That knowledge, coupled with the heretofore silent forest, I came to the conclusion that something dangerous was likely going on. I did, in fact, exit my tent and locate my machete in my pack. [Rapping loudly.] That is when I heard the sound a second time. 

The sound was strange not only because it sounded like knocking on a door, but because it was difficult to triangulate exactly where it was coming from. It didn’t reverberate like it was a long way away. It seemed like it should be within eyesight, though it wasn’t, after much searching with a headlamp. If I wanted to track it down, I don’t think I would have been able to choose what direction I should go. 

I decided that if anything were to be a bad omen it would be something like this and a pleasant getaway into the forest could be rescheduled for later. I could come back for the tent. Machete in hand, headlamp on head, and pack on my back, I immediately made my way through the dark, beginning the hike back to my car. [Rapping loudly.] The knocking did not stop or change in volume. It felt the same distance away as before. I searched the forest frantically as I walked, hoping to find and avoid whatever was the cause of the noise. The walk was a breezy 30 minute hike in the afternoon but felt daunting and gruelingly long in the darkness. It felt like I was never going to get there. [Rapping loudly.] The knocking seemed to be picking up in frequency, though I did not know for sure. 

I did not get a chance to determine if the knocking was happening more frequently before I walked straight into a large black door, like the door of the house. Between frantically looking around and how dark it was, I hadn’t seen it until I collided with it. Even when I did, I thought it was a tree. When it occurred to me what I was looking at, I immediately jumped back in fear. 

The door was strangely ornate. There wasn’t an inch of it that wasn’t carved with some abstract figure. Even the doorknob, which was shiny and golden, was carved this way. It was singular, unattached to a house or anything else. It was simply a door, upright even without a frame but not set into the ground either, standing in the middle of a forest. 

[Rapping loudly.] The sound continued. It was not louder. Instead, it felt appropriate. What I heard matched what I saw: knocking on a door from only a few feet away. [Rapping loudly.] It definitely was knocking more and more frequently. 

Being that close, I could hear something else, though. A guttural, chaotic yell, somewhere between a scream and a shout, coming from the other side of the door. It wasn’t shouting “help!” or any other discernable words. I could not tell whether it was a person or an animal. I say “the other side of the door,” but, as I said, this was a free-standing door with nothing on either side of it. But where else could it be coming from? It certainly sounded as though it were on the other side of the door. 

This put me at a crossroads. I was concerned that there was a person on the other side of this door, which appeared to be a sort of preternatural phenomenon. Whatever was on the other side was in great distress. There was a possibility that it was a human being in there, alone, in a place where no one but myself would ever find it. I had chosen this place in order to not be found, after all. If it were a person and I declined to open the door, no one would ever save him. I would essentially be sentencing someone to whatever the other side of that door was like, something that they did not seem to be enjoying. [Rapping loudly.] The knocking continued as I stood there.

I was transfixed by the door. You’ll notice that I didn’t run away when I found it. I did not feel compelled to. I was fascinated by it, whether that was due to my own curiosity or something else. This is how I was able to entertain the idea of opening the door instead of fleeing in the name of self-preservation, which is what I had even been in the process of doing until I bumped into the door. Opening the door felt like a distinct possibility. Something that I could actually do. That is not to say that I was unafraid. I was trembling. If anything was going to stop me from opening the door, it would be fear causing me to lack the dexterity to get it open. 

[Rapping loudly.] The rapping and shouting continued. I readied my machete, stood as far to the side as I possibly could while still being able to open the door, took a deep breath, hesitated, took a second deep breath, double-readied my machete, and opened the door.

A large fist barged through the open air with an accompanying howl. The fist was about the size of my head, dark with fur. I leapt away from the fist as the arm and body accompanying it spilled out of the door frame, thrown off balance by trying to knock on a door that was no longer there. Looking through the doorway, I could see a different forest. Though dark, I could tell that the vegetation wasn’t the same as the vegetation native to where I was. I looked down at the form that had fallen through the doorway. It was not a man. It was a bipedal animal, covered in long, dark fur. It looked up at me and I could see bright yellow eyes reflecting back at me and long, sharp teeth that protruded from its upper jaw. It scrambled to its feet. It was at least 10 feet tall, though recollecting it, it may have been as tall as 15. It was broad, too. It took up an enormous amount of space. 

After it stood up, it looked down at me for a moment. I stared back at it. We stood in silence watching each other for a long time, maybe a few minutes. I didn’t say anything. It didn’t say anything. It did not seem to want to fight or eat me. I did keep my machete pointed at it the whole time. I noticed that its fur was matted around its mouth with what appeared to be dried blood. Eventually, it turned and began to move into the forest, back in the direction of my tent. It moved much quieter and faster than I would like something that size to move. 

I looked back at the doorway. There was nothing there anymore, just more of the forest that I was in. I looked at the door. It was swung open, perpendicular to its starting point. I grabbed the knob again, this time from the opposite side of the door. It would not move. It did not behave like a locked door, it did not rattle or budge in anyway. It could not be moved at all, no matter how much force I applied. 

Soon after that, my survival instinct overpowered my curiosity. I began to run as fast as I could to my car, running headlong into an actual tree in the process and earning myself a black eye. The creature didn’t harm me but the forest did, ironically. One eternity later, I made it to my car and did not stop driving until I was home. Well, I got McDonald’s on the way home, but after that it was straight home.

35 people have gone missing in the forest since then, with no clue as to what is causing this ongoing rash of disappearances. Considering how few people go into that forest, I can’t help but wonder if 35 people is everyone who has been there since me. I do not know whether the creature or the door is responsible. I have not been back to that particular forest, though I have not stopped camping in forests alone. I never got my tent back. It was a good tent, too! A supposed “10 person tent” which of course means that it comfortably fits about 3 people. That’s the real horror. $400 that I’ll never get back.  

Well, not something I expected to be saying but…you know, I nearly ended up in a place like this when I was younger. They call it being sectioned in the UK. 

[Clears throat]

So my brother and his family had moved house recently. They’d finally been able to buy their own place after years of renting. It was an old terraced house, one just like many others in the street. These were mostly built for the workers of the nearby factories and their families. As such a lot of people used to move in and out of these houses frequently

 He’d asked me to babysit one night, my brother that is. So I agree, I mean, easy right? The kid’s only five years old and he’ll be in bed when I get there. Simple. Watch TV and chill out until my brother and his wife get back. Sure.

It’s a pretty cold autumn night, so I’ve got the fire going [SFX: Fire crackle] and I’m just drifting off into a cosy warm sleep when I hear the stairs creak and the door begin to open [SFX: Stairs/Door] . My nephew is standing there and just looks blankly at me and says ‘Uncle Shauny, the broken man is here’. Instantly I broke into a cold sweat. For some reason whenever a kid says something like that, especially at night. It’s 10x creepier than an adult saying it. Of course, I’ve got to play the rational adult in this situation, can’t go letting him get scared otherwise he’ll never leave me alone.

‘Jack’ I say, ‘Jack, you were just dreaming. Go back to bed.’ 

‘But he’s upstairs Shauny. I can’t sleep when he’s there. He’s so loud’

I’m sure at this point Jack can see the colour drain from my face. I know he’s talking complete rubbish but I just can’t help but be slightly terrified. 

‘Right, I’ll come upstairs with you and we’ll make sure that no-one is there. Okay? Then you can go back to sleep. Sound like a plan?’

‘Okay’ He replies. And this is when I realise how much of a daze he’s in. There’s no way he’s been awake longer than a few minutes. Definitely a dream. Definitely. [SFX: Stairs creaking]

I take him upstairs, we search around a bit, then I tuck him into bed. His night light has stopped working so I leave the landing light on for him. [SFX: Door creak. Stairs walk]

I head back downstairs, feeling a little rattled but I know it’s just a child and his imagination.

I’m chilling in the kitchen, waiting for the toaster the pop when the thing starts crackling and sparks leap out from it. [SFX: Sudden Metal/Electrical Fault] After a moment of panic, I reach for the plug and yank it out as fast as I can, probably not the wisest idea but I didn’t know what else to do in the moment. 

Trust me to go break something the first time I’m at my brother’s new house. Once calmed down a bit I head back into the front room and the door to the staircase is open. I’m sure I shut it, in fact I’m positive. The light from the landing kept flickering a little and it was irritating me, I’m sure I closed it. No matter, I’ll shut it now. [SFX: Door] Except I can’t. It won’t click into the latch. It won’t close. I try and try and it won’t. It looks like the hinges have buckled out of the frame and they’re stopping it from shutting properly. Were they always like that?

I give up and at this point, I’m convinced if I touch anything else I’m just going to mess it up. I grab a book out of my bag, put my glasses on and set to reading. Keep it simple, they’ll be back soon. 

[SFX: Whistling]

‘Jack’ I shout ‘Stop whistling and go to sleep! It’s late’

[SFX: Whistling]

‘Seriously, your Dad is going to be so annoyed at you if he finds out you wouldn’t go to sleep’

I can’t believe he’s doing this. Just as I start reading as well. I march up the stairs, [SFX: Heavy stairs footsteps] stamping my feet so he knows I mean business. The stairs are creaking so much and he’s still whistling even when I get to the top. But when I get to the top, light suddenly goes [SFX: Bulb pop] My heart is immediately in my throat, my ears pounding with it. But it’s not completely dark. Coming from the slightly ajar door of Jack’s room is this dim blue light…His night light. And the whistling stops all of a sudden and a shadow that I thought was nothing moves from hunched to stood. So tall… Then a heavy metallic clang [SFX: Hammer striking object] And I’m horribly aware that Jack might not be alone in his room. I push my fear aside as much as I can and burst into his room. [SFX: Door] It’s empty. His bed is empty and there’s no-one in there. No giant shadow. No Jack.

‘Uncle Shauny, where are you?’

I hear from behind me and down the stairs.

‘Jack? Jack, stay right there.’ 

I grab the door to leave and hear that clanging sound again [SFX: Hammer strike]. Foolishly I can’t help but glance back into the room and for the briefest second I swear there’s someone stood right in front of me. But almost immediately the left lens in my glasses cracks [SFX: Breaking glass] and a piece splitters off slicing into my skin narrowly missing my eye. Blood starts pouring freely down my face and the night light flickers then goes out. I’m suddenly plunged into darkness and I hear Jack again shouting my name. I throw my glasses on the floor and run for the stairs, clutching my eye. And as I’m pounding down the stairs [SFX: Stairs heavy] my ankle cracks [SFX: Bone crack] and my leg gives way completely. I slam into the staircase head first and plummet to the bottom.

I remember lying there, head on the floor, legs still on the bottom two steps and the warm flow of blood soaking my face, my ankle throbbing. That’s when I hear the hammer strike again [SFX: Hammer striking] and a quiet whistling getting louder and louder as the stairs creak like footsteps coming down. I’m completely prone, in a helpless heap. My body aching with pain all over. I’m paralysed with pain and fear. Then the footsteps and the whistling stop. Follow by a mocking voice so quietly in my ear.

‘Now you’re broken too.’

The next thing I know my brother is opening the front door and I’m still sat in the same position I curled up in at the bottom of the stairs. He said I just kept mumbling whispers to myself. 

My ankle was broken, I had a concussion and needed stitches above my left eye, I was in a bad way. When my brother came to visit me in the hospital he said apparently Jack didn’t remember a thing and slept through the whole night. Said he had no idea who the broken man was. Then he was questioning me, so annoyed,  wanting to know how I’d damaged so many things without knowing it. I told him it wasn’t me, that I did nothing other than try to protect Jack. He just looked at me, so incredulous. 

When my parents arrived I overheard them whispering to the doctors about a mental breakdown or something, they thought I couldn’t hear them but I could. For the rest of the day I felt so ashamed. Until the evening, as the light faded and my shame gave way to fear. In that darkened room a shadow loomed over the hospital bed accompanied by a slow whistling. Then a voice in my ear said

‘Even if they fix you. You’ll always be the broken man.’

“Okay, I think I have one. My cousin’s husband told me this story about his mom’s neighbor’s kid. I think it went something like this.”

Somewhere in New York, or San Francisco, or Tokyo, there’s a skyscraper topped with a glistening pool that seems to stretch on into the ocean. Those who find their way to that building are few, those allowed to touch the water’s edge even fewer. But those who do, the few who fall into the chlorine baptismal are granted a prophecy: a vision of their own death. 

Michael was sure he was going to die. He couldn’t pin down exactly how or when, but deep down he knew it: someone had it out for him. No, not just anyone; his business partner Alex wanted him dead. Michael and Alex founded the company, shared 50/50 ownership. Alex wanted to take it in a new direction, while Michael was obstinate in keeping the company on its current path. The two couldn’t come to terms, and neither would sell their shares. Which left…

Michael was sure Alex knew about the pool. It was the whisper of the exclusive realm that Michael and Alex traveled in. He was sure Alex had alluded to it in the past, if only cryptically, in passing. If others knew about the pool, Michael assumed it would be hard to book a reservation. How could anyone pass up the opportunity?

If Michael could find the pool and see what was in store for him, he could figure out Alex’s plot, outwit his partner and former friend, and prevent his assassination. Could his death be averted once seen in the pool? Only one way to find out.

Paranoid thinking doesn’t befit a serious man of business like Michael, yet here he was, frantically throwing shirts and ties into a suitcase. Alex knew where Michael lived. He couldn’t sleep at home, too easy to catch him unprepared. He’d have to rent a hotel suite–wait, no, too obvious. A motel room, then. Nondescript. Paid in cash. Fake name. 

Sweating under the inadequate sputter of the motel room’s window unit, Michael scoured the internet for the pool. He found useful slivers here and there: the vanity of those who run in these circles let clues slip through all kinds of cracks. He put on his shabbiest outfit: Michael Kors chinos, a $90 black t-shirt, and leather Onitsukas instead of his usual Yohei Fukudas. He brushed his hair back under a ball cap, donned his shades, and slipped anonymously into the muggy sunrise.

Michael wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for, but figured–like pornography or poverty–he’d know it when he saw it. Through the beaming metal refractions of lower Manhattan, or London, or Seoul, Michael crept, trying to blend in with the rabble. His head swiveled back and forth across the street, building to building, sweat beading under his brim.

He felt the eyes of the city loom over him, like an oil lamp swaying precariously on a hook. Any one of these people could be Alex’s chosen hitman. Or maybe Alex would finally have the guts to do something himself. Either way, Michael was sure he was running out of time. 

The terrors that lurk in the disused corners of our reality often find subtle ways of revealing themselves. At first. Something off about the gleam of metal siding, something stirring behind the glass a little too quickly. Michael stood in the harsh shadow of the nondescript building that reached hot and sharp into the sun. He felt nauseous just looking at it, but compelled to move closer. The swarm of marching blazers parted around him as he cut across the sidewalk to approach the building’s entrance. No one went in, no one came out, no one even seemed to acknowledge its existence. No one but him.

Michael was sure this was the one.

He entered the building as if tumbling down a hill: pulled by some external force, as much inertia as intention. Inside, Michael saw nothing. The entire ground floor was devoid of people, just a few chairs and a large desk in the unlit foyer. It had a kind of hollowness that doesn’t assert itself through sight, or sound, but feeling: in the icy sensation working its way up his arm. In a city like this, at a time like this, it was rare to see a place so empty. Uncanny.

Michael crept through the dark space, looking for light. But it seemed as if the whole building had been cut off from the electrical grid. A dead tower in the middle of the city slowly infecting the surrounding tissue.

Michael scoured the foyer, even feeling the walls for door handles where the plume of sunlight leaking through the windows couldn’t reach its grubby fingers. Eventually, hand met handle, and he twisted the knob. Beyond was a stairwell, just barely illuminated by a skylight far above him. Michael was through with sneaking, and so he took the stairs in frenzied bounds. How many floors he passed, he couldn’t say. An anxious, dripping ball of nerves was all that remained of him when he reached the door to the roof. He slammed into the pushbar and the heavy slab creaked open. The full glare of the afternoon sun pelted him. He raised his hands to shield himself from the onslaught. 

And there Michael found his oasis. 

Beams of light from on high glimmered on the water’s surface. Chromatic reflections bounced all around the rooftop, gently swaying.

Surrounding the pool were a variety of potted plants, all long leaves and curved edges, forming pockets of inviting shade. The lapping of the waves called to him, an infinite sea that sprawled out beyond the building, beyond the city, melting perfectly into the horizon. 

It was idyllic, everything he had hoped it would be, save for one detail: there were two figures standing at the edge of the pool. Dressed all in glaring white, they were hard for Michael to look at. He took a step closer to the pool and tried to focus his eyes on the figures.

He wordlessly moved toward them. Blinding spotless in the sun, he could make out their general shape: humanoid, somewhere between 5 and 6 feet tall. But their faces…he couldn’t see their faces at all. Like wisps of pure sunlight flowed from their skin and obscured their features. 

Michael dipped one foot into the pool, then the other. He felt that pull again, as if he were on the cusp of a gravity well. He closed his eyes, spread his arms wide, and fell face first into the cool water.

Michael drifted in the fathomless ocean for a moment, untethered from all things material. He flipped and spun in the freeform body, curled and retracted. He settled himself and opened his eyes to receive his vision.

Michael saw two figures in white leaning over the pool’s edge, but there was someone else there as well. Michael was sure it was Alex. An arm framed by gold cufflinks broke the surface and held Michael in place underwater. He thrashed and kicked and struggled against the hand, but his shoes couldn’t find purchase on the slick walls of the pool. If only he had been wearing his Fukudas. This was how he was going to die. 

As Michael’s thrashing slowed, Alex withdrew his arm from the pool and stood triumphant over his former business partner. He nodded to the inscrutable figures in white and turned to leave. But it was Alex’s turn now. The figures clasped each of his shoulders with tremendous force and led him slowly into the water. His screams were quickly muted, rendered nothing more than noisy bubbles. Then those bubbles came to a halt. Alex and Michael locked eyes beneath the surface one last time before they fully slipped from this earth. A mutually assured destruction. 50/50. 

The figures in white rose from the pool, not a drop on them, their faces glowing and radiant. Michael and Alex were rich, yes, powerful, sure, but there are others even beyond them, beings who exist in a totally separate plane from those two. Beings who repel water and consequence in equal measure. Wealth so concentrated, so dense it warps the fabric of space and bends light. To sustain such life requires…sacrifice. A great many souls to stoke the engine. 

Somewhere in Chicago, or Shanghai, or Frankfurt, there’s a skyscraper topped with a swimming pool that seems to go on forever. Those who find their way to that building are few, those allowed to touch the water’s edge even fewer. But those who do are not granted a vision of what’s to come, they simply see what is: only death waits for those who enter the water, and it won’t be waiting long.

JAMIE
Okay, well I guess it’s my turn now? Here we go…

Submitted for the approval of the… what do we call ourselves? Do we have like a group name? Doesn’t matter… whatever. I call this story… The tale of the 1-5 minute man. Dumb name, I know… but bear with me.

When I was in my childhood home, I always felt like there was something… off about the place. I’m going to sound like one those crunchy granola people that collect crystals or something, but, the energy in the house just felt… bad? I just always felt uneasy. Like I was never truly alone. It started when I was just a little kid. One night, I stumbled into my mom’s room at around 2 am…

[Sounds of a door opening. Shuffling into the room]

He’s in my room. (What? She said) He’s in my room again. The man. (What man?) The man who comes into my room at night for 1 to 5 minutes.
Yeah I don’t know why I was so specific with the timing when I was a kid… But it was that word I said…Again. He was in my room. Again. Who was this man? What did he want with me…

After that, Every time I would try to sleep in my room, I would wake up in this weird excruciating pain. I wasn’t sure what it was, but it felt like my legs were burning… My mom said it was probably growing pains. I just thought it was because my bed was uncomfortable and it was making my body sore… So I refused to sleep in there. I slept on the living room couch for probably three years until my mom caved and finally bought me a new mattress.

In those years I felt… fine. I didn’t experience any more random pain. When the mattress finally came in, and I was back in my room, things started to get weird again. One day I was in my room laying on my bed watching tv and I started dozing off… you know when you feel yourself about to fall asleep and you suddenly have that terrifying feeling that you are falling and you scare yourself awake..? That happened to me… but I woke up on the floor in the corner of my room near the door… Like I flew off of the bed or something… I was convinced for years that it was just a weird case of sleepwalking… but then similar things just kept on happening. There are so many times when I would fall asleep in my bed like normal and then wake up in the morning laying upside down in my bed… Again… this can easily just be explained by sleepwalking. It seems like a perfectly valid explanation… Until something that happened to me recently. This is something that I haven’t told anyone in my family… for some reason whenever I bring up any sort of… occurrence at the house, they just don’t want to hear it.
I was laying in my room late one night half asleep and I began to hear things.

[Footsteps creaking]

I assumed it was just in my head or the sounds of the house settling or something… And then I felt it… Something grabbed me and was… pulling me towards the door. My eyes shot open and I saw something… I saw… it. At the foot of my bed there was this… shadow figure just standing there with his hands grasping around my ankles.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream. I’ve never experienced sleep paralysis before, but I was sure that this wasn’t it. This felt too… real. This thing has its hands on me and my legs were… burning. The pain must have taken over and outweighed the fear, because I managed to open my mouth and let some words out.

“What are you… What do you want?”

I asked, dreading whatever the response would be. It just stood there for what felt like minutes until it released one of its hands and slowly raised it up and extended a finger. It was pointing at me. It wanted me. In a panic, I quickly reached for my phone and turned the flashlight on to try and get a better look. When I turned back to it with the phone, whatever it was disappeared the instant the light would have touched it… Next thing I knew, it was morning. I’m sure it was just a dream… but it felt so real. Too real. I moved out as soon as I could after that.

Andddd that’s my story. Everything has been pretty quiet for me since I moved into my new place… for the most part. It hasn’t been as easy for my fiancée. She told me that she doesn’t like it in the new place… she feels like she’s being… watched. And she swears that she’s been… seeing something out of the corner of her eye. In the shadows. She’s trying to convince me that it’s already time to move. She’s been waking up with some leg pain lately… Okay. Who’s next?

JEREMY: Well, since Nathan’s here too, (to Nathan) what do you think about that time we met up to go to the old Richfield Manor?

NATHAN: Really? That’s the story you want to tell?

JEREMY: I mean, why not? It has all the hallmarks of a good campfire–er, spooky hospital… tale.

NATHAN: (quietly) This story sucks.

JEREMY: (ignoring Nathan) So, some of you know Nathan isn’t exactly a believer. Over the years we’ve known each other now, I’ve kind of made it a small mission to introduce him to a truly, undeniably paranormal event. So, when he finally flew out to San Diego to meet up for the first time, a major item on the agenda was to go visit a local haunt. He got settled at his hotel, then I picked him up at around ten o’clock so we would have time to get out there and set up the equipment I’d brought along before we hit the witching hour.

[The sound transitions from the hospital to Nathan and Jeremy at the door of the mansion.]

NATHAN: So, what happened?

JEREMY: What do you mean?

NATHAN: Well, I assume there has to be some sort of tragic backstory to make the place haunted, right?

JEREMY: That’s actually a misconception. Really just any unresolved emotional turmoil, particularly surrounding their death, can cause a haunting where they died or at least something that’s often perceived as a haunting. That residual energy becomes localized to a particular area, steadily decreasing in strength as you get further and further away. Basically, it doesn’t have to be a violent murder at all.

NATHAN: So what happened here?

JEREMY: …a violent murder.

NATHAN: Of course. Details?

NATHAN: So, is there a key or do we just-

[Jeremy pushes the door and it opens.]

NATHAN: Oh, it wasn’t even shut. Okay.

JEREMY: Did you think we were going to be breaking and entering?

[They walk inside.]

NATHAN: No, I… whatever. I don’t know. A traditional ghostly door opening by itself wouldn’t have been unappreciated, though.

JEREMY: You’re going to be tough to please, aren’t you?

NATHAN: Sorry, I’ll try to suspend my disbelief for the evening. (pause) So what’s the story with the murder?

JEREMY: So–actually, before I get into that, you can set your case down, we’ll unpack the gear here.

[They set down the cases, open the latches, and begin unpacking.]

JEREMY: Back in the seventies, Michael Richfield was known for two things: being a recluse and hosting extravagant parties.

NATHAN: And by extravagant, you mean… 

JEREMY: Well, it was the seventies.

NATHAN: Got it. So like, a somewhat updated version of the Great Gadsby… kinda. The lonely rock and roller.

JEREMY: Something like that. So long as the, um, party supplies kept flowing, most people didn’t really ask too much about him. Then, on October thirty-first, nineteen seventy-nine, he threw the largest Halloween party anyone in the area had ever seen… or at least a certain population of it. Everyone was having a blast in their various masks and costumes. It was some time before anyone realized that the party had thinned out much earlier than expected. Almost right away, people had been disappearing… one by one. When enough partygoers took notice, they started a loosely organized search of the premises. As you’ll see when we walk around though, this place is pretty sizable. Lots of rooms. Lots of doors. Lots of locks. The story goes that Richfield would lock the doors when a handful of people entered the room and shut off the lights. Then he would approach them in the dark where they could barely make out his face. Only, it wasn’t his face. He would be wearing the face of someone they knew. Someone who had gone missing at the party. Accounts of how he dispatched them vary from there. Some say he slit their throats with a knife, some say he chopped them up with an axe. However he did it, he managed to maintain enough stealth so that the only thing that exited those doors was the river of blood from his victims.

NATHAN: That’s… believable. Totally believable.

JEREMY: You couldn’t even last five minutes, could you?

NATHAN: With what?

JEREMY: I thought you were going to “suspend your disbelief.”

NATHAN: Oh. I mean, yeah, but come on. If he killed everyone, then how do we know what happened at the party?

JEREMY: Easy. He confessed.

NATHAN: He what? They caught him? I thought he had to die here or something.

JEREMY: I didn’t say they caught him, I said he confessed. When the police finally did arrive, they found Richfield’s body slumped on his desk in the study. He had taken a massive cocktail of pills and booze to cap off his own life, and was still wearing someone else’s face over his own. In front of him was a letter, written in blood that had been drained from the bodies around him.

NATHAN: So… what did the letter say?

JEREMY: Were you not–I just told you! It was a full confession!

NATHAN: Yeah, but, like, what exactly did it say? How do you know it actually exists? Have you read it?

JEREMY: Okay, you’re going off track. The point here is a lot of people died that night, and the house has been abandoned ever since.

NATHAN: (dramatic voice) Until now… 

JEREMY: (pause) I mean. We’re not moving in. You know that, right? This is just for tonight.

NATHAN: Yeah. It just seemed like a, you know, like a movie trailer moment or something. Right?

[THE HOUSE GROANS AS IT SETTLES, UNDERPINNING THE SILENCE.]

NATHAN: So, what’s all this equipment do?

JEREMY: Your case is full of motion sensors, EMF readers, sage, and microphones.

NATHAN: Okay, I know what some of that stuff is, so–wait, what? That’s what this is–sage? Are we doing a cooking with ghosts episode of The Storage Papers or something?

JEREMY: It’s for protection. With such violent deaths, this isn’t likely to be your average haunt.

NATHAN: Oh. Uh, okay. Who knew. Sage. Fights mosquitos and ghosts. What’s in that case?

JEREMY: Various types of cameras, some tripods, and a couple laptops so we can monitor and record everything.

NATHAN: Cool. Cool cool cool. So, what first?

JEREMY: First, we light up.

NATHAN: Light up? Oh. You’re supposed to burn the sage?

JEREMY: It’s more effective to light it, then blow it out so the smoke carries the sage. It’s called smudging. Although we’ll be doing it a little differently and just have it on our person instead of smudging the whole place. It should afford us some protection while still having a chance at witnessing some paranormal events.

NATHAN: Smudging. Got it. Well. Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em, I guess.

[A lighter flicks and ignites. The smudge sticks burn and they blow them out.]

JEREMY: Now that that’s out of the way, go ahead and set it on that tray while we get the equipment setup. Just don’t forget to carry it with you when you go to a different room.

NATHAN: Right. Because of the angry ghosts?

JEREMY: Because of the angry ghosts. Now, if you want to setup a motion sensor in here and that mic in the middle of the room, I’ll setup one of the cameras in the corner.

[Fumbling with equipment.]

JEREMY: (cont’d) Then we’ll carry the rest of the cameras, sensors, and mics while we explore to figure out the best spots.

[Footsteps as they walk around the room to setup the equipment.]

NATHAN: And how do you do that? Figure out the best spots?

JEREMY: With any luck, the EMF readers will give us a good idea. Otherwise, just wherever seems sufficiently creepy. The study is a no brainer, of course.

NATHAN: Yeah, that makes sense. Okay, motion sensor in place, and… check one, check two… yup, mic levels look good. You set?

JEREMY: Uh… okay, yup, looks good. Shall we?

NATHAN: Lead the way.

[Footsteps as they leave the room and enter rooms.]

NATHAN: So how do these work?

JEREMY: It’s been observed that there’s a higher amount of electromagnetic frequency present when there’s also paranormal activity. These devices will read that frequency which gives us a good spot to setup shop.

NATHAN: Oh. Actually, I just meant how do you turn it on?

JEREMY: There’s a switch on the side.

NATHAN: Ah. Got it.

JEREMY: I only have enough equipment to cover three rooms so we’ll have to be a bit conservative with our coverage, unfortunately. I figure we’ll do one room downstairs and then the study and one other room upstairs.

NATHAN: Sounds good to me.

[EMF reader makes noise while Nathan is talking.]

JEREMY: There! That’s what we’re looking for!

NATHAN: So, same as before? Mic in center, etcetera, etcetera?

JEREMY: You got it, man.

[Noise of them shuffling about and setting up.]

JEREMY: All set?

NATHAN: Yup. Upstairs now?

[They start walking.]

JEREMY: Upstairs.

NATHAN: So, suspense of disbelief aside, how is it possible he killed every last person? It seems nuts that, no matter how stealthy he was, not a single person noped out of there.

[They walk upstairs.]

JEREMY: I’ve actually had the same thought.

NATHAN: And?

JEREMY: I don’t really have a good answer.

NATHAN: Plot hole!

JEREMY: There could be a number of explanations. Maybe the drivers were methodically taken out so nobody could get away. Maybe he chased them deeper into the house to trap them if it seemed like they were going to get away. I don’t know.

NATHAN: One of those “you had to be there” things, huh?

[The EMF reader goes off again while Nathan is talking.]

JEREMY: Yeah, I guess. Alright, let’s set up here.

NATHAN: What is this room supposed to be?

JEREMY: Not sure. With all the mirrors on every wall… a ballroom maybe?

[They start setting up the equipment.]

NATHAN: Damn. Did they ever find out anything about the guy? Other than the eccentric killer bit?

JEREMY: Not a whole lot. This was way before the Patriot Act and electronic trails were a thing, so he still remains something of a mystery.

NATHAN: All done here, by the way. So who owns the house now? Wouldn’t that tell us something?

JEREMY: After the police investigation finished, it was inherited by a distant relative – an uncle, I think. The uncle sold it but the buyer… is a mystery. On to the study.

[They leave the ballroom and walk to the study.]

NATHAN: A mystery? How is that possible?

JEREMY: A shell corporation, owned by another shell corporation, owned by… who knows.

NATHAN: And, just like that, this changed from a haunted house to a full on conspiracy.

JEREMY: I serve you nothing but the best.

[Doors creak open and EMF readers start going haywire.]

NATHAN: Okay. So… study.

JEREMY: Mhm.

NATHAN: And that desk is where-

JEREMY: Yup. Go ahead and set up the mic and this sensor. I’ll set up the camera to get the desk.

[They set things up.]

JEREMY: You feel that?

NATHAN: What?

JEREMY: I thought… nevermind. Are you finished?

NATHAN: Yeah, it’s all set.

JEREMY: Alright, let’s get out of here. Don’t forget your smudge stick.

[They start walking back as Nathan talks.]

NATHAN: Got it. Although I gotta say, I’m a little surprised. Isn’t this type of thing kind of your whole gig?

JEREMY: Yeah, just–I don’t know. Something about that room… you really didn’t feel any weird vibes back there?

[They walk downstairs.]

NATHAN: I mean, nothing I wouldn’t expect to feel in a place like this. Spooky, haunted house vibes?

JEREMY: No, there was something… nevermind.

NATHAN: Okay, sure, keep me on edge. It’s not like this is my first haunted house experience or anything.

[They reach the main room and Jeremy sets up the monitors. There’s a lull as he focuses on that.]

JEREMY: Hmm? Oh, sorry. Trying to get this camera software up and running. But I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts.

NATHAN: Suspending my disbelief for tonight, remember?

JEREMY: Oh right, how could I forget.

NATHAN: Give me a little credit here, I’m trying, okay?

JEREMY: Mhm. (pause) Dammit!

NATHAN: Software not working?

JEREMY: All the cameras are up and running, it’s just one of the mics isn’t sending any audio.

NATHAN: Don’t tell me-

JEREMY: It’s the one in the study.

NATHAN: Of course it is.

JEREMY: Are you sure the light came on?

NATHAN: I… I don’t know, man. I’m usually in bed (pause while he checks his watch) like four hours ago. Eastern time, remember?

[There’s a pause as the house settles.]

NATHAN: You want me to go back and fix it, don’t you?

JEREMY: I mean-

NATHAN: No, no, I get it. Hype up how creepy one room is, then send the new guy in alone to check it out. Really trying to make a believer out of me.

JEREMY: You don’t have to. We’ll just… hope we don’t miss anything. (pause) In the room that’s most likely to have a ghost in it.

NATHAN: Ugh, fine. Did you bring walkie talkies or are we going to rely on our cell phones which will inevitably experience a service failure at a critical moment?

[Static as a walkie powers on and a couple beeps as Jeremy tests it.]

JEREMY: You’re with a pro, remember?

NATHAN: I thought you were an enthusiast?

JEREMY: Professional enthusiast. Here, catch. I’ll let you know when I’m getting audio again.

[Another pause, the house groans.]

NATHAN: So we’re splitting up then, huh? In a haunted house?

JEREMY: Bring your smudge stick. You’ll be fine. I have eyes in the room anyways, remember?

NATHAN: (mumbling as he walks off) Maybe Jeremy the character isn’t as different as Jeremy the person after all.

JEREMY: (into the radio) I heard that.

NATHAN: (over the radio) Just sayin’.

JEREMY: If you’re too scared of ghosts, I can take care of it.

[The radio beeps, there’s static, then it beeps again.]

JEREMY: Nathan?

NATHAN: (radio) Yeah, I’m here. Just trying to think of a good comeback. Coming up empty so far.

JEREMY: (chuckling) You see the study yet?

NATHAN: (radio) Dead ahead, ghost rider.

JEREMY: Okay, I can see you on camera now. (pause) Is that really necessary?

NATHAN: (radio) Sometimes the classic comebacks are the best.

JEREMY: Just take care of the mic and head back.

[Static comes through.]

JEREMY: (to self) Shit. (into the radio) Nathan, I just lost the camera. (pause) Nathan?

[More static.]

JEREMY: Goddammit. (into the radio) Nathan, if you can hear me, can you please say something?

NATHAN: Boo.

JEREMY: Fuck! What the hell? Why weren’t you answering?

NATHAN: Uh… answering what? Nothing was coming through on my end.

JEREMY: I was yelling–you know what, nevermind.

NATHAN: Are you getting audio now?

JEREMY: No, and worse, nothing’s feeding from the camera either now.

NATHAN: Hey, don’t look at me, the camera was your turf.

JEREMY: Well, now we have to go back and see if we can fix it. I really want to record that study.

NATHAN: Okay. Let’s go.

[They walk back to the study.]

NATHAN: So, Jeremy, you like to party?

JEREMY: Huh?

NATHAN: I mean, that’s what happened here, right? Exactly forty years ago?

JEREMY: Oh, yeah. The bloodbath. Yeah, that’s not really my scene. Parties, I mean. Well, or bloodbaths. (pause) How about you?

NATHAN: They can be fun.

JEREMY: Can you check the mic again? I’ll take a look at the camera, but it’s weird that neither of them is working.

NATHAN: Yeah, definitely strange. (pause) Why do you think he did it?

JEREMY: Partied?

NATHAN: The masks he made from their faces.

JEREMY: (distracted) Who knows? Celebrating Halloween in true serial killer fashion, maybe? Whatever the reason, there was definitely something majorly screwed up in his head.

[The door creaks and slams as soon as Jeremy finishes his sentence.]

JEREMY: Jesus! Okay, you can’t tell me you didn’t see that!

NATHAN: What was that?

JEREMY: Welcome to your first paranormal event. (pause) Where’s your sage?

NATHAN: Huh? Oh, I must have left it in the other room.

JEREMY: Dammit, Nathan! We need to get out of here, then!

NATHAN: What about the equipment?

JEREMY: Leave it, we need to get out of here right away if you aren’t protected. We’ll come back for it in the morning.

NATHAN: How do you propose we leave?

[The doors shake but don’t open.]

JEREMY: Dammit. Okay, just stick close to me. I’m going to let the smoke saturate the wood of the door. Hopefully that’ll let us break through.

NATHAN: That stuff smells awful.

JEREMY: Trust me, it’s better than the alternative. Okay, on the count of three, we’re going to push against the door together.

NATHAN: Uh, Jeremy?

[Wood creaks and a breeze appears.]

JEREMY: Shit. Okay, on one. (pause) One!

[They burst through the doors together.]

JEREMY: Run!

[They run through the house until they burst out and get to the car.]

(back in the asylum)

JEREMY: We got to the car and I drove Nathan back to his hotel. I think he came away with a little less skepticism. Am I right?

NATHAN: That’s what you think happened?

JEREMY: (confused) That’s… what I remember. Do you remember something differently?

NATHAN: Everything was like you said… up until I went back to the study.

(back in the house)

JEREMY: (over the radio) Just take care of the mic and head back.

NATHAN: Yeah, yeah. Okay, I handle mics all the time. This should be–oh. Fuckin’ a. No batteries. Seriously, Jeremy? (into the radio) It’d help if I was given batteries for the mic.

[Static.]

NATHAN: Yo, Jeremy. You fall asleep over there?

[More static.]

NATHAN: I’m the one on Eastern time. If one of us should be dozing off, it should be me.

[Nathan starts walking.]

NATHAN: I’ve gotta come up with a better comeback than flicking off the camera. Gonna have to give him some shit for being a sleepy old man at least. Can’t go too hard on scaring him when I sneak back into the room, though. Wouldn’t wanna give him a heart att–ahh!

[The study door slams shut.]

NATHAN: (breathing hard) Jeremy!

[He bangs on the door.]

NATHAN: Jeremy, come on, I know that was you! Open up! (to self) Dammit. I probably deserved that. (pause) Okay, let’s think. If he’s not going to help me out of here… if I were a crazed serial killer, I probably wouldn’t leave myself trapped anywhere. There’s gotta be… what the hell is that?

[He walks closer to the desk.]

NATHAN: (into the radio) Hey Jeremy, I know you’re busy messing with me or whatever, but can you see this? There’s something on the floor… glowing, kind of, I guess. It looks kinda of red. No, ah, what’s it called? Crimson. I think it’s coming out from the desk.

[He crouches down closer to it.]

NATHAN: Okay, think, Nathan. What would Jeremy do? (pause, the chuckle) Well, he’d probably touch it. Okay, so whatever I do, don’t touch it. (into the radio) Jeremy, tell me you can see thi… did it just move? Oh shit, it’s moving. Okay, time to get out of here. Jeremy! Open up!

[He runs to the door and bangs on it.]

NATHAN: For real, Jeremy! There’s something weird and glowing and it… it almost… it’s like those maps of the nervous system. Or the cardiovascular system. Veins. That’s what it reminds me of. Fuckin’ veins. Jeremy, you hear me?! (to self) Did I bump the channel on this thing or… no… fuck! Okay. Serial killer. This is his study. If I were a serial killer… maybe there’s another-

[The door bursts open.]

NATHAN: What the f–okay, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

[He runs out of the room.]

NATHAN: Jeremy! I have something to show… okay what the hell? (pause) The stairs were right here… right? Maybe… no, no maybe. This is too friggin’ weird. Okay, I’ll just retrace my steps to the study and maybe when I come back, it’ll be there.

[He walks back to the study as he talks.]

NATHAN: Why would that be the case? Hell if I know. So long as it’s… shit. That’s definitely bigger than it was before. Did it… it destroyed the mic. Oh fuck. Okay, stairs or no stairs, door or window, I’m getting out of here before this thing spreads. (into the radio) Jeremy, I swear to god, if this is some stupid, elaborate prank…

[He starts bursting into rooms.]

NATHAN: Okay, how is this possible? I know I saw windows in these rooms before. Big, fucking, avante garde windows. There has to be a way out of here!

[He starts running down the hall.]

NATHAN: This doesn’t add up. This place was big but… it’s not this big. This hallway should have ended right now. There definitely weren’t this many turns. This whole place is fucking-

[He stops running.]

NATHAN: Okay. Don’t say it. Ghosts aren’t real. It doesn’t matter what you think you saw. You just passed the stairs and were too panicked to notice. Okay. If I can just calm down and breathe for a minute. (pause while slowing down his breaths) There. Okay. Now I just need to go back and–oh what the fuck! It’s everywhere, it’s all over the walls and it’s fucking breathin–

(back in the psych ward)

NATHAN: And the next thing I remember was waking up in my hotel room.

JEREMY: So wait. You don’t remember coming back, us getting in the car… none of that?

NATHAN: Never happened. I don’t know how you saw what you saw. It’s… I don’t know.

[A few beats.]

JEREMY: Almost like someone was wearing your face.

Alrighty, let me show how its done…

I’ve got a story that’s sure to terrify you. Something that’ll make your skin crawl and have shaking in your boo–

*squeek squeak*

Good god – what was that?

Harlan: Calm down it was just a rat.

Cole: *clears throat* yeah I knew that..

Anyways….

A few years ago – public access television was struggling, I mean they’re still struggling, but it was more of a fight against the dying light sort of situation for them back then.

Now they’re dead in the water, and looking for a lifeboat.

That’s mostly all cable television though – but especially PEG channels.

You know – Public Access, Education, and Government channels.

I guess their aim was to create intrigue around our own local version of PBS.

Except it didn’t go exactly how I imagine they thought it would.

[sound of driving fades in – let it hang]

I was driving to work that day – a nice long drive, into the city, spotted traffic as I went – I love those long drives, lots of time to mentally prepare for the day, listen to a podcast, drink my coffee, take in the scenery of the changing fall foliage that lines the highway..

That day, I can’t remember what specific day it was – sometime towards the end of October – I’d fallen asleep in a weird half sitting position on the couch in front of the television – dog tired from a particularly long day – and hadn’t plugged in my phone to charge, so getting into the car, rushing, making sure I wouldn’t be late, I had no time to charge my phone.

[sound of driving continues]

*yawn* Oh lordy, I need some noise
[tunning radio – play some elevator music, keep tunning, play some whatever – keep tuning – play the announcement]

RADIO ANNOUNCER: The veil between our world and the next has fallen – Tune in to PCBS at 10pm tonight to witness proof of the afterlife.

Watch in astonishment as Dr. Nickels proves once and for all that there is life after death.

Tonight on PCBS – Here and there are as close as then and now, as are close as you and I.

[sound of driving fades – only a bassy hum fades in]

I didn’t pay much attention too, I barely even remember the advertisement at all, but by the time I got into the office, most folks were talking about it, either laughing it off, or seriously interested and intrigued.

Despite their initial excitement, the usual inertia of the day took hold and mostly no one was talking about it, as we shuffled out of the office.

I was so incredibly tired – I thought perhaps I’d take a nap and tune in to PCBS, maybe get something to laugh and joke about in the office the next day – same way half of us do with sports – watch the last 10 minutes of a hockey game, so you can pretend at lunch it was a nail bitter, or talk about the decision to pull the goalie, blah, blah blah, office talk right?

I had a couple hours until it Dr. Nickel’s segment aired, so I stepped into the kitchen – opened the fridge and started putting together a hodge podge dinner – honestly it was mac and cheese. I was too tired to cook anything.

Grabbing my dinner, I took it to the couch, threw my bowl of underwhelming mac and cheese onto the coffee table, kicked up my feet while it cooled, nestled my head in between the couch cushions and felt all the tension of the day leave my neck, while I turned on the television.

*tv turn on noise – muffled noise, channel turning”

There was nothing on – so I turned to PCBS.

I didn’t remember ever watching PCBS – I suppose I was curious what else they aired.

Well – the answer is not much

*faint sound of walking on leaves*

They had an hour long program – called Walking. And you guessed it, I sat on my couch, and had the privilege of enjoying a walk through the point of view of a lone camera man. No talking, no commercials, just walking.

*faint sound of walking on leaves*

Didn’t take long for me to doze off.

*faint sound of walking on leaves, and louder snores*

I slept through most of what would be quite the infamous public broadcasting segment.

Dr. Nickel’s came on, and from what I’m told performed a series of thought experiments,

You’ve probably seen them on youtube or tiktok before, where they ask you green or blue, down or up, name a vegetable – and then they correctly guess the vegetable, and say carrot and you gasp in mild astonishment.

Those kinds of thought experiments.

Except he took it a little further.

I slept through the damn thing, so I don’t know exactly what it was all about but a coworker told me, quite reluctantly, that the questions and answers started off cheesy. Like the carrot guess, but then Dr. Nickels asked the audience to imagine a shape, and each word he spoke would be a corresponding plot point in the shape.

And each plot point was connected to the previous plot by a thin imaginary thread, and imagine each thread is held by another person watching and listening to the beeps, and imagine now that they are pulling their thread further to the right, and you need to pull it further to the left or vice versa, and now imagine, that in between those two points of here and there, imagine nothing at all. A hole, and now imagine that person which holds the other end of your imaginary thread, as you fight to place your points as they pile up and as you fight, give one gigantic pull, and you fall into the hole, but you hold tight to the imagery thread and pull everyone else in with you.

It made little sense to anyone – but it was unsettling.

I woke up to the final moments of the segment.

*morse code*

The screen was black and they were playing a series of beeps, like morse code.
[Pause]

HARLAN: uh… is that it?

Cole: Well… no… It’s just so ridiculous. It sounds crazy.

HARLAN: Well don’t make me beg for it – you’re killing my immersion.

COLE:

Okay, the next day we all walked into the office, same drive, same traffic.

But the office is much more quiet.

Folks are looking tired.

I didn’t want to ask. I didn’t really care.

But a friend popped by my cubicle and asked me if I watched Dr. Nickels.

Well I tried I said – but I fell asleep.

And he nearly had  tears in his eyes.

Maybe you’ll be fine he said.

Maybe I’ll be fine?

He walked away from my desk and I was more or less left stewing in my own thoughts.

Maybe I’ll be fine? What does that mean?

Well long story short – Dr. Nickel’s segment on PCBS was weird – no one really understood it, and everyone was  feeling awfully uneasy.

People started hearing things, seeing things, thinking about being pulled and pulling other into that pit – whispering about what it meant – what was the purpose.

I wasn’t hearing anything – no not me, but everyone was. And seeing things too, like the whole town was on one never ending acid trip.

Folks started leaving.

And those who didn’t want to leave started going crazy.

Some folks torched their house, I guess in their hysteria it seemed better than asking the ghosts or ghouls or whatever it was they THOUGHT was haunting them  to go away nicely – I don’t know though, because like I said I wasn’t seeing or hearing anything.

Then a sort of sickness settled into town – like everyone was being drained of the will to live and fight, and the fear which had been this overwhelming emotion, was now just a never ending state of wide eyed apathy.

But not me – because I wasn’t hearing or seeing anything.

And there I was – some how the only one not whipped up into a frenzy, and I don’t really understand what’s happening.

Really, I think everyone got it in their head demons had been summoned, or that they were being haunted, or followed – maybe it was just paranoia – really it was just some sort of social experiment or poorly executed avante garde television program – and then it just devolved into mass hysteria.

HARLAN: Well was it?

COLE: Well, I’m not sure it’s hard to say.

There wasn’t much time to make my mind up one way or another.

Some awfully terrible things happened for 2 days, and then it all began to settle.

I got called back into the office, after a few days of the doors being locked. And then people started to show up again, and then it was really like nothing had ever happened at all.

No one spoke about it.

It was as if everyone was embarrassed.

But then that coworker came past my desk again – the same one as before – and told me that they’d all figured out how to pass it on.

I didn’t know what he meant by pass it on – because as I said – I most definitely was not seeing or hearing anything.

They said Dr. Nickels had done something to everyone – unlocked something, triggered something, it hadn’t made sense.

But it terrified them, followed them, they couldn’t sleep or eat, and some people never came back to the office, and memorials were quietly held during work hours.

But they’d figured out how to pass it on.

And that’s when he told me that….

Actually… hold on a moment – maybe this will be easier. Let me just grab my phone here.

Annnddd….play.

*beep beep boop boop*

Harlan: I don’t get it – I feel like I’m pulling teeth at this point trying to put this story together – how do you pass it on?

Cole: I think you already know.

JESS: Um, I’ll go next? 

HARLAN: Fuck yeah. 

JESS: Uh, have you all ever heard of like these… [SIGH]… it was a friend of mine who actually told me about them, he’d had a similar experience on a hike, but basically, they’re these things that, when they’re close, their call sounds distant? 

HARLAN: No, no.  

JESS: [quietly] Cool. 

My grandparents live in a little town, about an hour and a half from mine, if you take the main highway. It was fall reading break of my first ever semester at uni, and I’d made a little solo trip out there, just to talk about how school was going, and see how retirement was treating them, and I stayed a lot later than I’d meant to. It was long since dark by the time we’d kissed cheeks, said goodbyes, and they’d bid me a safe drive home. 

The highway is double lane, well travelled at all hours, and passes through a series of little towns I’ve always known the names of but never actually been to, before it passes into mine. However, if you know your way around the many, different paths jutting off into the flat, rolling distance, there’s a little unmarked township road that’ll cut the trip time in half. Sure, by choosing that road you’re choosing to bypass all other guaranteed signs of life for the next 45 minutes, which, not great if something were to happen, but usually it made for a quiet, straightforward journey. Usually, nothing happened. 

I debated not taking the shortcut home. I had texted my mom to say I was on my way, but I hadn’t said that that’s the way I’d be taking, and I mean, I had my phone- though it had like 3% battery at this point and- long story short, I’d lent one of my sisters my car charging cable and still hadn’t gotten it back- but anyways, if something bad enough happened… and then I looked at the time again. And I don’t remember exactly how late it was, but it was late, definitely after midnight at this point. Another hour and a half of driving made my head hurt and my eyes sting just thinking about it. 

So, I turned onto the one lane, bumpy back road, stretching out into the darkness. 

[MUSIC INCREASES] 

The road itself possessed some kind of strange presence. Something bristling in the distance, something inching through the night, I always thought that even before this happened. But, at the same time, it was never enough to deter me. In the open darkness like that, you know, where didn’t you feel watched? Where didn’t you feel like anything could have been on the edges of the fields, nestled in the long grass of the ditches, waiting for you to stray? Waiting for you to separate yourself from the little pockets of light and life along the highway chain, and to stumble onto one of those many different routes on the shadowed prairie where it could be hours before another person would find your car, if you were that lucky. 

I’d only been driving for about 10 or 15 minutes when I saw it. 

Lights, up ahead. A soft glow and two red spots flashing in the void. A car, pulled over onto the crumbling shoulder, hazards on, and the driver’s door just… open. 

It was a concerning thing to come across. I should have used the rest of my battery to call the RCMP or whatever and report it, but- I definitely wasn’t thinking straight when I parked behind it, and stepped out into the open air to look around. 

[SOUND OF CAR PARKING, SEATBELT UNFASTENING, THAT CLASSIC CAR DINGING SOUND AS SHE TAKES THE KEY OUT OF THE IGNITION. OPENS CAR DOOR AND GETS OUT. IN- SOFT NIGHT SOUNDS] 

To the left of the road was an open field, and to the right, where I had stopped, was a group of trees probably 10 meters from the road, branches twisted and silhouetted and blocking out most of the moonlight. 

[SOUNDS FADE BACK OUT]

From where I was, I couldn’t see anyone in the car, or nearby, and just- got this feeling. Y’know, I knew I’d never stop thinking about it if I didn’t make sure everything was okay, so, I grabbed an emergency flashlight I had in the trunk, and decided to check.

[OUTSIDE NIGHT SOUNDS IN STRONGER. THE SOUND OF THE TRUNK BEING CLOSED AND A FLASHLIGHT CLICKING ON. A FEW FOOTSTEPS ON THE ROAD, WALKING TOWARDS THE OTHER CAR] 

JESS: Hello? Anyone… ? 

[NIGHT SOUNDS OUT] 

JESS: I didn’t really know where to go from there. It was freezing out and I didn’t have a coat, so sticking around wasn’t the most compelling option…  until I heard a voice.

[NIGHT SOUNDS BACK IN]

DISTANT VOICE: Hello?

JESS: Hey- Is this your car? 

DISTANT VOICE: Is someone there? 

JESS: Yeah. Where are you? 

DISTANT VOICE: Over here! 

JESS: Are you okay? Do you need me to call a tow truck or something? Hello?

[NIGHT SOUNDS OUT] 

JESS: It sounded like they were in the trees, which was weird, so I took a few steps closer, when this sound cut through the still air. 

[SOFT FOOTSTEPS, AND A STRANGE, SCREAMLIKE SOUND IN THE DISTANCE.] 

JESS: It’s easy to brush off sounds when you’re out there. You learn to tell yourself that every shifting, snapping branch is just an owl, every crunch in the dirt is just a raccoon, or a skunk. Even every strangely human scream echoing in the distance is just a fox, or a deer, or an elk. You can rationalize. I mean, all things to be wary of, but when you can hear they’re far away… 

[NIGHT SOUNDS BACK IN] 

JESS: Are you okay?

DISTANT VOICE: HELP!

JESS Is someone hurt? Hello? 

DISTANCE VOICE: Please! 

[FOOTSTEPS ON GRASS] 

JESS: Where are you? 

DISTANT VOICE: Over here! 

JESS: Okay, okay I think I’m close. Just- keep talking, I can’t really see- 

DISTANT VOICE: Please!

[SHE STOPS FOR A MOMENT] 

JESS: Ah- Shit- I left my phone in the car. I’ll go call for help just-

DISTANT VOICE: Don’t leave.

JESS: I’m just going back to my car. You can see it from here. Okay?

[SILENCE. A FEW MORE FOOTSTEPS. A BRANCH SNAPS NEARBY.] 

JESS: Is that you?

[THE FLASHLIGHT STARTS FLICKERING. SHE MUTTERS AND TAPS IT A FEW TIMES 

JESS: Come on, shit. 

[SHE TRIES TURNING IT OFF AND ON A FEW TIMES. SIGHS. THEN A SOUND-]

JESS: Hello?

DISTANT VOICE: [EVEN QUIETER] Right here! 

[SOUNDS OUT] 

JESS: The voice was the farthest it had been, but there was hot breath on my neck, and then came that cold, prickling, crawling feeling up your spine when something is behind you and you just know. 

[SOUNDS BACK. SHE GASPS AS THERE’S THE SOUND OF SOMETHING A BRANCH SNAPPING RIGHT NEXT TO HER, AND A LOW GROWL. SHE RUNS, GASPING, AS SOMETHING FOLLOWS, SHE TRIPS] 

JESS: Ow- shit- ow- 

[SHE PUSHES HERSELF TO HER FEET. SHE RUNS TO HER CAR, SCRAMBLING AND PANTING, BEFORE SHUTTING THE DOOR, LOCKING THE CAR, DROPPING THE KEYS. THE SOUND OF SOMETHING OUTSIDE THE CAR, SCRATCHING.]

JESS: I had every intention of starting the car and just speeding off as fast as I could but my hands were shaking too much to hold onto the keys. And I didn’t want to open my eyes to look for them. So [DEEP BREATH] I kept them shut, pressed my head against the wheel, and I waited.

[A FEW MOMENTS OF HEAVY BREATHING. THEN, KNOCKING ON THE WINDOW]

MUFFLED VOICE: “Hey, you okay?” 

[MUSIC IN, SOFTLY AND GROWING] 

Another driver, lucky for me, had had the same plan I had about taking the shortcut home, and saw my car. I explained that I’d pulled over for another car, but you know, of course when I turned to point it out, it was gone. 

And they gave me some advice that I’ve never forgotten: 

If you’re driving at night, on something you’d consider a backroad, don’t stop for a car if you can’t see the driver. Mostly because people actually get kidnapped and killed that way. But, it boils down to you just don’t know what’s out there. 

They said they wouldn’t even have stopped then if they didn’t see the two of us actually get back into my vehicle. 

I went cold, and quietly told them that I was on my own, and I have never seen the colour leave someone’s face so quickly. They were kind enough to help me search my car, though aside from some scratches on my back, right door and some slivers in my palms, there was no sign anything or anyone else was or had ever been there. 

They bid me a safe drive home and warned me to keep a careful eye on the backseat. 

Even though it was a white knuckled, wide-eyed  trip, I obviously got home okay. And, uh… 

Needless to say, I don’t take that shortcut anymore. 

1 INT. HAUNTED PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL 1
KEVIN
(Startled)
Ah! Something just crawled up my arm. Also, that was good. Fine tale. I’ve got one. Let me silence my phone…
2 SFX – Puts phone on vibrate 2
KEVIN
So, when I was in junior high, and up until freshman year of high school, I used to walk home with this girl, Sara. We were walking buddies, except as we got older, she got hotter, and I got a pretty bad crush on her. It was embarrassing. I didn’t know how to take it to the next level. We’d get to the place where we’d part ways to our own houses and that was that.
3 SFX – Footsteps on sidewalk 3
4 MUSIC – “Suspenseful Melancholic Night Slow Chord Movement” 4
KEVIN
Except one afternoon she told me something weird was going on and everything kinda changed. She was getting these phone calls when she was at home after school. I was a latchkey kid so I knew the scenario. But until that point I always thought her parents were more cheery, upbeat and, well, present than mine. But it turns out, no. Her dad, the mega-successful entrepreneur, was always traveling. And her mom, former Southern belle, kept up with a lot of clubs and charities and crap. So Sara’s stuck alone, watching TV after school. And someone’s calling her on the landline. This was before caller ID. So, I’m dating myself and outing my home dimension.
5 A distant phone rings once. 5
KEVIN
She said at first, they’d call and hang up immediately. Then, they started waiting until she picked up. And before she could get a word out of ’em…
SARA
Hello? Who is this?
KEVIN
Click. I said it’s probably nothing to worry about, just some punk kids trying to get a rise out of you. She was not pleased. Her parents had said the same thing. ‘What can we do, honey? You want us to come home earlier to catch ’em? They’ll just hang up again. You wait and see. It’ll stop as soon as it started.’
6 SFX – A nearer phone rings. 6
KEVIN
The next day I didn’t see her at school. I figured she was sick, walked home alone. And that was when she called me. I’ll never forget how hard my heart was pounding, thinking, ‘Girls don’t call me?!’ Apparently she was at school. But she kept a low profile and took a different route home. She said they called again. And this time they stayed on the line, made some rustling noises. And she heard breathing. Wheezing?
7 SFX – Heavy, labored, gross breathing 7
KEVIN
‘No. Breathing. Heavy breathing.’ That’s never good. I don’t know why, but it’s not. It’s the one thing that you don’t want to know about a stranger. Intimate knowledge of their breath. So I said, ‘Let’s call the cops.’
SARA
She’s like, I don’t know. I don’t think they’ll take me seriously. Do you mind coming over?
KEVIN
Do I mind? Really had to pretend to mull this over. Well, I’ll miss the end of Duck Tales, but I’ve seen this one. Actually, yeah. I mean, no. I don’t mind. I’m coming over.
8 SFX – Bicycle racing through suburban street 8
KEVIN
So I got on the Grey Ghost. That was my bicycle – just a Mongoose minus the decals. When I got there, she gave me a hug, which was awesome and not normal. She was wearing what could best be described as form-fitting denim short shorts, basically daisy dukes minus the butt cleavage. It was a lot. Turned out her parents wouldn’t be there for hours, so we could just chill. Luckily, I was not wearing sweatpants, since that would have gotten awkward fast. No. I had slipped into the most ‘goth’ ultra-baggy Tripp jeans I had. We cracked open a couple of Pepsis, plopped down on the couch, and proceeded to watch Aladdin, don’t ask. Before long it was dark. And when the phone rang again, I realized we didn’t really have a plan. It was her house, so she picked it up. But when she put it her ear and said hello I knew whatever was happening was not good, based on the dreadful expression on her face. I motioned to hand it to me.
9 SFX – Heavy breathing like before more oppressive 9
KEVIN
And I was about to lay into these a-holes when the voice from the other
end croaked in.
LECH (FILTERED)
You alone?
KEVIN
I dropped the phone. Scared the shit out of me. I did not expect that voice. I was thinking it would sound like a crank call from some teenager. Not a legit creep. I told her next time we need to hit speaker phone so we can hear the bastards. I said ‘bastards’, but this wasn’t wily kids playing a prank. And we knew it. This was evil.
10 MUSIC – Tense creepy melody “XYnon Creeping Synthesis” 10
KEVIN
And before we could hit play on the DVD, it rang again. Sara put it on speakerphone.
LECH (FILTERED)
I know you’re there. Sitting on the couch. In your shorts. Drinking soda.
KEVIN
She hit mute and said, ‘What do we do?’ What do we do? He’s watching us! She said actually she’s been changing into shorts after school the past few days. So, it doesn’t mean he’s out there, but… Well, it still made my skin crawl. He continued.
LECH (FILTERED)
You wouldn’t wear those outside would you? But now that you’re alone, it’s safe. And that’s good. Very good.
KEVIN
Sara said she wasn’t alone. He was like, ‘Right.’ Then he paused and said.
LECH (FILTERED)
I know. There’s a malign presence with you – his eyes glowing and demonic. I see him, too. With his stupid plaid shirt…
KEVIN
I said, Hey, asshole. I can hear you.
LECH
What are you gonna do? Chug another Pepsi?
11 SFX – Click 11
KEVIN
He hung up. I was pissed cause we were making progress, but I was equally terrified since he described my shirt to a ‘T’. And as we both were reached for our soda cans we started freaking out, running around the double-checking locks on doors and windows. Peering into the darkness outside. Trying to see something, anything. I thought I saw someone on the back lawn but it was just Giorgio, the neighbor’s collie. We dimmed all the lights in the house and sat there wondering what to do. That’s when a light flashed at us through a bay window. I almost shat myself. So we called the cops. And they said they’d come by but they’d like to talk to an adult.
(Scoffs)
It was like they didn’t even believe us.
12 MUSIC – Dramatic, eerie “Dendricks Corner pt.1” 12
KEVIN
The cops searched around the house and couldn’t find any signs of a prowler or witnesses to a peeping tom. But when Sara’s mom hunted down the phone number he had called from it got weirder. Apparently it came from an old Italian-style villa behind them. Abandoned. Big for sale sign on the lawn. The family that lived there had moved out a few months earlier after the dad committed suicide. No note. No explanation. I think someone exposed him for being a creep and he couldn’t face his life after that. The thing about creeps, though, is they can’t let go. Cops couldn’t pin it on anyone else. Sara’s dad’s company collapsed and they left town. She disappeared from school. Her family – it was like they went off the grid. I haven’t been able to find Sara or her profile on any social media. I can’t find her number listed for the life of me. For all we know, she ended up in a mental ward like this; not a condemned haunted one, but you know what I mean. The worst thing to me is… The wrong person disappeared.
(Belatedly)
That, and Pepsi in a can still gives me the heebie jeebies.

Various laughter in response to Kevin’s comedy at the end. 

Dylan: Alright, alright…. Well that about does it for another year if I’m not mistaken? 

Cole: Who wins?

Jess: It’s not a competition, Cole. 

Nathan: I think it’s obvious anyway.

Rat: You had two people telling your story. 

Jeremy: So it’s worth double?

Shaun: So it’s worth the same as everyone else’s and I think everyone killed it. Pun intended. 

Jamie: Was that technically a pun?

Dylan: You did. We did. I hope tonight has been entertaining… but also illumining for you. Maybe not every one of these stories is true but some were… some we’ve carried with us and continue to. Remember that when you look into the darkened edge of a forest or down the empty hallway of an abandoned building. You never know what may be looking back. 

Kevin: Is this where I say Boo again? 

(general laugher) 

Cole: Goodnight everyone

Nathan: Anyone up for Denny’s?

Jeremy: Denny’s… really?

Jess: I’m game!

Jamie: I hear Outback Steakhouse make a mean bloomin’ onion…

Rat: What is a bloomin’ onion? 

Jamie: Oh it’s amazing… it’s a (trails off ranting about bloomin’ onions)