Loading summary
Transcript34 lines
- [00:01]
A
This episode is brought to you by Accenture. When your advertising operations fall out of sync, everything else follows. Spotify and Accenture are working together to reinvent the rhythm of ad sales using automation, analytics and smarter workflows to simplify campaign delivery and access better data across the business. The result? Less time spent on operations, more time connecting brands with the moments and fandoms that matter most. Learn more@accenture.com Spotify the best dancers from
- [00:32]
B
across the globe are about to join me for the audition of a lifetime.
- [00:36]
A
ABC Mondays. Do they have what it takes to compete and be the next Dancing with the Stars pro? I'm here to win.
- [00:42]
B
Nothing is gonna stop me.
- [00:44]
A
Our star judges will decide.
- [00:46]
B
This is what hunger looks like. It was 100% a wrong choice.
- [00:49]
A
Robert Irwin hosts.
- [00:51]
B
The next era of ballroom starts right here on Dancing with the Stars. The next Pro.
- [00:56]
A
All new Mondays, 8, 7 Central on ABC. Next day on Hulu.
- [01:00]
B
I'm Archmanning.
- [01:01]
A
I'm Madison Skinner. I'm Eva Jovic.
- [01:03]
B
I'm Decoria Moore. Want to train like a Red Bull athlete?
- [01:06]
A
Tell us your fitness goals this summer to enter the Red Bull Athlete Challenge. You'll get to try each of our workouts for a chance to win an ultimate Red Bull experience.
- [01:14]
B
Think you have what it takes? Hey, welcome to Scary Stories and Rain. Do you want to listen ad free? Just subscribe on Spotify for 2.99amonth now turn out the lights, enjoy the stories and enjoy the rain. I am a middle aged man who works from home. I work from the top floor of a split level house and have a window next to me that always has the curtains open. Sometimes I work nights for deploying software and don't think to shut my curtains. You know how if it's dark outside and your light is on, people can kind of see in but you can't see out. Well, one night I was working and obviously focused on what I was doing as well as on a group call centering around the deployment. So I was not looking out the window periodically or anything. So I don't know how long this lady was standing in my yard looking through my window. But when the call was over I turned off the lights and she was right there. She looked normal suburban mom looking lady just standing there staring into my window. I don't believe that she was just looking at my house in general or anything because she was clearly looking up and right at my window. I wanted to believe she was one of those people who are always spamming you with offers to buy your house or fix your roof after hail damage or whatever. But it was like 9:30pm it was completely dark outside and again she was intently just staring through my window. What was so jarring was how normal she looked though. I live in an okay neighborhood, but there is a homeless population in the nearby woods. But this woman did not look homeless. She looked like one of the ladies who would walk their kids to school every day. Just a typical suburbanite lady. I am the type to kinda slowly try and figure things out before acting. So I just waited. I was confident she couldn't see me with my lights off, so I wanted to see what she was going to do. I looked at my phone to see if the ring doorbell had notified me and sure enough it had. Looking through the camera didn't tell me anything new though. She must have stood there for about three more minutes and then just wandered off. She walked out of view so I couldn't see which house she went into. I was sufficiently weirded out and thought about running out there to ask what she wanted, but ultimately I just told myself that I would pay close attention the next few days days to see if anything else weird happened. It wasn't until a few days later that I saw her again. I was walking my dog. She's tiny, not at all scary, but she does notice and bark at everything. I was taking her on her before bed walk when she started pulling really hard and freaking out. For her, that's not super atypical though because she is a spaz dog. So she's pulling kind of up a driveway and I pull her back. She doesn't obey, she just keeps pulling. I look up the driveway and ducked down behind an suv. Is the woman crouched on the ground like a child? Looking at me from behind was the same woman as before, obviously well done. Hair, makeup. I mean I can't stress how normal she looked, but at the same time out of her mind apart from being crouched on the cement staring at me, I sort of freak out and just say uh, sorry for whatever reason and pull my dog along the sidewalk until she chills out. When we finally got far enough away. Now I'm walking fast and heading around the block so I don't cross that house again. I'm pretty jarred by that experience and running through a million explanations in my mind, but also kind of happy that I know where she lives at least so I can call the cops if I need to. I round the final corner to head to my house, but I see someone standing right in front of it. Now I know who it's going to turn out to be, and I have zero idea of what to do. I'm trapped on the sidewalk, so I just keep moving forward. The figure reveals itself to be the woman as I get closer and as I just awkwardly say something like, can I help you? I don't clearly remember as I was freaking out. She says nothing in response, just stares at me. I ask her again if she needs help because at this point I'm wondering if she has special needs and has wandered away from a caretaker or something. I'm about to just walk past her and go inside and call the cops, but then she reaches out and asks if she can pet my dog.
- [06:44]
A
New summer arrivals are at Nordstrom Rack stores now. Get ready to save big with up to 60% off brands like Rag and Bone, Levi's, Adidas and Free people. Join the NordicLub to unlock exclusive discounts. Shop new arrivals first and more. Plus buy online and pick up at your favorite rack store for free. Great brands, great prices. That's why you rack this summer Prime Video takes you back before Legally Blonde, before law school, and into the world of Elle woods in high school. Set in 1995, this Gemini vegetarian knows exactly who she is until her family moves from Bel Air to Seattle. Packed with iconic fashion, 90s nostalgia and a throwback soundtrack, Elle proves one law school was hard. High school was harder. From the world of Legally Blonde, watch Elle, a new original series only on Prime Video. Watch now.
- [07:38]
B
Right now get up to 15% off select storage solutions put heavy duty HDX totes to good use, protecting what's important to you. The solid impact resistant design prevents cracking, and the clear base and sides make items easy to find even when the totes are stacked. Find select shelving and tote storage up to 15% off at the Home Depot. To organize every room in your home, from your garage to your attic, visit homedepot.com how doers get more done I say sure, because what else do you say? She leans down to pet my dog and transforms into the normal person she looks like. She starts asking me about the breed and I tell her it's a Pomeranian and husky mix and she goes on about how cute she is. I kind of laugh and agree, but inwardly I'm just very confused. I go to head inside when I decide now that she's speaking, I'll ask her why she was standing outside my house. I do, and she, just as if it's the most normal thing to say in the world, says, I thought my love was only for you, but I see it's because of your puppy too. I'm stunned. My face must have shown it and I don't speak for a minute at least. She fills the awkward silence by saying love is something thing. You just know. You know. You just know when it's real, it's meant to be when it's meant to be. And I can tell. I wanted to tell her that I was married, but I didn't think she would believe me since she seems like she's been stalking me and lives close by. So I just say something along the lines of I don't know if I believe it's that simple. I'm really not looking for a relationship though right now. But yeah, I I I think my dog is cute too. I laugh awkwardly and try to break off to head inside. It works. But before I turn to disappear behind the back of the house, I look back and she is burning a hole right through me. This is sort of where the story ends, except to say that she still stands stares into my window from time to time. It's always just from the sidewalk, but it's been about a month and a half since that incident and I'm worried that it will happen again. I don't want to call the police because she hasn't really done anything. It's just the look in her eye and her weird behavior and the way she talks that freaks me out. I'm really hoping she sets her sights on stage someone else soon and just goes away. I have really been into urban exploration or Urbex for short for a couple of years now and living in Europe, Germany specifically. There are always reasonably nearby sites to visit. I started by venturing into well researched Urbex areas with my friends. At the time I was a teen who was afraid to explore alone, afraid of getting assaulted, kidnapped, mugged or worse. Eventually though, after about a year of urbexing with friends, I decided that I was finally competent enough to explore alone. I had become knowledgeable of what safety measures to take. For instance, equipment pieces like masks are necessary when entering old buildings due to the likeliness of asbestos particles being present and one should always wear thick clothes and sturdy shoes to ensure you do not step or bump into anything sharp or harmful. I always scope the buildings and pre plan entry and exit plans. Additionally, my location was shared with one of my closest friends every time I went on an adventure. I had successfully urbexed several times alone and covered many abandoned places across East Germany. In July of 2018, however, things went very wrong. It was the peak of Summer, and because I had explored almost all of the places near me, I had to dedicate time to more tedious methods of finding spots. I began to research bunkers that were used in prevalent wars in Germany, especially in World War II. I came across one in the depths of a forest about three hours drive from my city. I was very certain it would be there, and when I arrived, it sure was. I was over the moon. I felt like a real explorer uncovering ancient artifacts. It was all concrete on the outside and had no sign of vandalism, so I assumed no one else had ever found. Took me almost an hour to find a way in. I fiddled with the door, banged rocks up against it and prayed until it finally cracked open. It was almost too easy. I turned my headlamp on and was wearing a mask and gloves for extra protection. Even through the mask, the smell was foul, as if something had died in there. The interior was surprisingly large and the floor was laden with papers and trash. What began to freak me out was was in one of the sleeping quarters I found a pillow which was slightly ripped open. And when I picked it up, I realized it was hair. Human hair, I'm guessing. I suddenly wanted to leave, but I forced myself to stay as I did not want to drive three hours for nothing. When I pulled my eyes away from the pillow and scanned the room, I recoiled and noticed something strange out of place. Even it was an eaten can of beans with a plastic spoon in it. The paper can wrap was still vibrant. I picked it up carefully to examine it and I read the expiration date. July 11, 2018. I was a bit freaked out, but I just chalked it up to someone else exploring this place before me. However, as I kept exploring, I started to see signs of modern life. More food packaging, decent clothes, air freshener cans. The rotten smell became more pungent as I walked around. As soon as I entered the next room, I physically folded at the putrid smell that instantly made me feel sick. As I recovered, I began to look around the room and almost jumped when I saw three bodies. The first thought that rushed to my head was that this place was occupied by squatters. But I think that was just the shock, speaking as clearly they were dead. It was a heavyset old man, a woman of similar age, and very distressingly, a small boy, maybe 9 years old. Their bodies were swollen and their skin was purple and waxy. The older man was lying on his back, his stomach mutilated, only wearing khaki trousers. The image of his desecrated body still haunts me. The woman was naked and was covered in bruises. Her face stared at me. I was absolutely horrified. The child's face was unrecognizable. I began to cry. I could not breathe. Thousands of thoughts consumed my mind. What if the person who did this is close? What if they're still here? What if they find me? I would end up dead just like them. I went to call the emergency service number for my country, but there was no service here. In my shocked and terrified state, I decided to take photos of the scene before exiting as fast as I could. I did not even bother shutting the door. I just ran. Much to my horror, I froze on the spot when I heard footsteps. I crouched behind a fallen tree, though I could still see the bunker entrance if I jutted my head out, though I did not dare to, I heard a male voice seethe and yell. I was not expecting visitors in German before stanching into the bunker, I felt the biggest relief that he decided to forego scooping the area. And when I thought he was deep enough into the bunker to not hear me, I ran again as fast as my body could possibly allow. I remembered that the road was about a 30 minute walk from the bunker and I ran for what felt like ages. As I saw the road, I heard a vicious scream and running behind me. I put in every ounce of survival I had in me and ran for a couple more minutes before finally crawling up to the road road and to my car which was about 200 meters from where I emerged. My keys were in my backpack and my shaky hands were not helping. However, when I finally got them, I saw the figure climbing up the road from the forest. He seemed to be about 60 years old and was very tall. In his hand was a large knife which looked used. I was able to get into my car and lock the doors just as he slammed into my window, banging on the glass and cursing at me. I started the ignition and drove over 140km h, which was well over the speed limit. Though of course I didn't care. Looking back, I am so grateful that he did not slash my tires or anything. Instead was too focused on screaming at me. I stopped at the nearest gas station and called my father. I told him everything. I arrived home and he met me at my place. We immediately went to the police. I showed them the photos I took, described the man and gave them coordinates to the place. They said they would go check it out. However, they never did get back to me. I have no idea if they actually did. Since then I have given up Urbex. And for a long time I couldn't even go out alone. I even received therapy to deal with the trauma of seeing those bodies. To this day, over five years later, the images of them, their eyes, and the sound of this man's voice, they haunt my dreams. There was blood in my shoes again as I sat in the staff room waiting for my heart rate to return to not deadly. Seriously, had I known that making some extra Christmas money was going to be this intense, I would have just bought a big bag of macaroni and glitter and made everybody calendars. I had seen advertisements for temporary Christmas staff for a major online retailer. I won't say which one, just in case they see this, but you might have seen people droning on about their latest innovation if you're still in doubt. During the training period, I was informed by a manager with a puffed up chest that the warehouse had its own public road built by the local council just to accommodate them. As I say, which retailer? A major one. The role was a picker. As the Christmas orders flooded in, it was my job to dash around the shelves picking them up and bringing them back for packing. I had worked in Target based environments before, so I thought I had known what I was getting myself into. But no, I guess you don't become a major online retailer without knackering a few ankles. I took a pedometer to work one day out of curiosity and was amazed to see that I covered nearly 16 miles in a single shift. The job was monotonous, but what was worse was the sheer pressure of the roll. I had a handheld little beepee machine that I had to use to scan all the items I was picking. And man, no sound in history has ever become so irritating as fast as that little handheld. The world over there are babysitters violently shaking infants and thinking that at least they don't have to carry this thing for a daily half marathon. Every few hours I would have to check in with a supervisor who would check my pick rate. He could even set it to start beeping if it got too low. Like I was the bus in speed, charging around the aisles with an imaginary Keanu Reeves on my back, making sure I don't go below 50 items per hour. Every shift was the same. Beep. One Direction. Beep. Pokemon X Beep. Game of Thrones Beep. Breaking Bad Complete box set Beep. Hunger Games poster Beep. Hopes Beep. Dreams Beep. Legend of Zelda Premium Wii U gift set. It didn't take long for the physical demands of the role to Come to the forest. The skin at the base of my nails was broken and peeling from being caught on 50 books and CDs an hour. My knees ached and popped from doing more squats than an Olympic wannabe. But the worst was the blisters. I would check my feet after each shift and see raw, red, irritated skin. I would check again in the morning and try to gently roll a sock over the the big skin bubble. This summer, soccer is here and so are the watch parties and UberEats. Has your game day essentials covered? Everything you need to keep your crowd happy delivered straight to your door. Get wings, pizza, chips, dips, fresh ingredients and more. Keep the soccer going and all your game day essentials flowing. Order in so you can lock in for the games only on UberEats for a limited time. Flies taking over your kitchen? Meet STEM's flying insect light Trap. An easy, mess free way to capture flying insects like house flies, fruit flies, gnats, mosquitoes and moths. Powered by UV light, STEM's light trap attracts, traps and kills 99.9% trapped insects, all without chemical insecticides. And it works 24 7. No mess, no noise, no odor. Live life Never bugged with STEM. Visit stemforbugs.com to learn more.
- [23:32]
A
Who cares about your poops? Ollie does. That's why Ollie's science backed Gut Health Lineup helps support your family's regularity. From daily probiotics to fiber gummies your kiddos will love. Find it all on ollie.com that's o l l y.com these statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. This product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure or prevent any disease
- [23:59]
B
of protective fluid that had developed overnight. The worst, though, was spending a day running on it, feeling the pressure of your step stabbing at the periphery of the blister, feeling it bulge and wane with every step, feeling the pressure separating the layers of skin, then finally feeling that one short jolt of pain followed by a warm, seeping damp that collects under the arc of your foot. It was another shift down and there was blood in my shoes again. Beep beep beep beep. Still, the money was alright and it was only temporary. What really stepped up the game was when I offered a night shift. The night shifts were a different animal. People said they had better pay, lower pick rate targets, fewer supervisors, fewer orders coming through. The whole lot. They were massively coveted for anyone whose personal timetable wasn't tied to the school run. So if you were offered one, you took it. I was offered a fortnight's worth of shifts, and the extra money would mean I could quit a few shifts earlier, before Christmas. It was nothing short of a godsend. My first shift was a week later. It was stripped back alright, but even I wasn't ready for just what a skeleton crew they had running the graveyard hours. The pickers were out in force still, but everything else was paired right back to the bone. It was just us and a scant few supervisors in a warehouse that normally housed thousands plus. It was the night supervisors, a strange, mythical breed. Mine was Derek. Derek was ambiguously old. Old enough that being contracted to such an antisocial shift begged questions about his personal life that he was too old for anyone to dare ask. He was a narrow man with narrow eyes in front of narrow opinions. He wielded his clipboard and tally sheets with all the macabre glee of an executioner just waiting for you to slip so he could take the minuscule amount of power he'd been afforded and promptly get drunk on it. Even the utilities were stripped back, the fierce halogen overheads turned off in favor of motion detecting spotlights once every five feet or so that only lit the immediate area around you. It made charging around the corridors quite fun at first, watching the rippling lights follow you along the aisles like spotlights at a theater performing the world's dullest rendition of Picker of the Opera. However, it was here that I realized I had been sold a lie. Sure, the pick rates were lower, but there was a reason the night orders were more complex and needed picking from much further flung corners of the warehouse. The extra running meant that a lower target was instantly just as difficult to maintain. Soon I was charging up and down the corridors with as much much urgency as I did on any day shift riding. The ripples of motion tripped light like some kind of weightless surfer. It was those lights that first got me. I was putting down a pick that was thankfully mostly CDs. Taylor Swift and Imagine Dragons. I charged over to aisle 15, trying to speed hop to avoid popping the big blister on my right heel, and scanned the first with the usual beep. Then, some way down the aisle, another light came on. I squinted into the dark towards the newly lit patch, but I couldn't see anyone who could have triggered the light. I shook it off. Probably just some stock falling over on a shelf. I headed off to pick up Imagine Dragons, scanning the shelf again. Beep. And again down the aisle another light came on. I stood squinting into the dark to try and see what could have set it off. But there was nothing. There wasn't even any stock on those shelves that far down. I called out to see if anyone was near enough to have set them off. Hello? Beep beep beep. Crap. I had paused too long and my pick rate had dropped below target. Ugh. Derek would try to narrow me to death if I don't get it back up. I charged off to get back on target. Another order. Games. I dashed away to try and regain some time. First game Grand Theft Auto V PlayStation 3 top sellers. Aisle 43 go. The little red light on my scanner stayed red as I collected it, still under Target. Next game Call of Duty. Xbox One. New releases. Aisle 48. Still below target. This went on until two picks later I got a lucky break with two items on adjacent shelves that I was four. Finally above target again, just before I had to check in with Derek before my break. A Christmas miracle. Derek's narrow little eyes, narrowed on his narrow little clipboard, skipped below target for a while there, kid, he said with a mean grin, not wanting to miss a chance for a dig. Yeah, I got it back though, I retorted. His grin sagged a little. Yeah, well, be careful. I went to the little staff room to drink a Blue Bear, my Christmas savings plan not stretching as far as a genuine Red Bull. It was a bare dank little room, all painted and faded, smudged off white color with hard cold plastic chairs like those you would find stacked up at a school parents evening. There was a machine labeled Complimentary coffee, which was only half right. Natalie, another girl on the night shift, was there too. She was sat under a cork board covered in laminated safety information and curling advertisements for long sold cars and single moms selling amateur pet grooming services. She stared at a coffee sat next to some caffeine pictures pills, with the mindless stare of a lobotomized PTSD victim. Natalie? I asked. She looked up, bewildered at this communication thing that had broken her stupor. She seemed confused for a moment before shaking her head a little and returning to earth. Sorry. Was miles away there. What's up? Have you had any problems with the lights? Yeah, all the time. I've lost count of how many times I've barreled down those aisles in the dark because the motion sensors didn't, you know, sense motion. I'll break my leg one day. Watch. What about coming on when there's no one there. Not happened to me, but it wouldn't surprise me. I think Paul mentioned that a few times. It's a proper crap system. Surely they can't be saving that Much by just keeping the lights on. Sodding pencil munchers. Pencil muncher. That was a new one. Natalie's scanner beeped. Oh, already. She stood and left. Soon the fake energy from the fake energy drink was stabbing into my muscles and begging to be burnt off. My scanner started to beep, indicating the start of round two. The first pick was a crappy one. A little bit of everything from all over the warehouse. Some chocolates, a toothbrush, some CDs, some weird American sweets, couple of books, and some gardening equipment, of all things. I must have been above target when I finished, but I wasn't by much, and this pick was going to put me on the back foot. I charged off for the chocolates first. Aisle eight. Beep. Toothbrush. Beep. Books. Beep. CDs. Beep. I headed out for the American Suites, but I hit a nightmare instead. They weren't there. They were showing as in stock, but there's none on the shelf. This is a nightmare scenario. There's nothing in the target to account for misplaced inventory. You just have to suck it up, find it and work harder. Afterwards, I looked on the surrounding shelves and then heard the fateful beep, beep, beep, beep to let me know I was now under target again.
- [33:12]
A
Beep.
- [33:12]
B
Beep, beep. Yes, I get it. Why don't you tell me where they are? Pencil muncher. It was 2:03 and I was shouting weird insults at a handheld scanner. Screw Christmas. I carried on, frantically searching the shelves. Other sweets were everywhere. Oreo Pop Tarts. Who the heck cares about Pop tarts? Online. Kinder eggs, Milky Ways, Cola cubes. I could see the red glow of the below target light burning into my peripheral vision like a sun too low for the car visor. Further down the aisle again, another light came on. No time Right now, Ghosty boy. I shouted. I'd already shouted at my scanner. I didn't see the harm in shouting at thin air. I kept searching. The light down the aisle flicked off. Then the next closest one came on. Then the next, then the next. I momentarily forgot about my search for Jolly Ranchers and turned to face this creeping light. Whatever it was paused. About 50ft down the aisle. I stood frozen to the spot it charged beneath. Next light came on. The next. The next light after light flicked on as this invisible force raced down the aisle towards me. I still couldn't move. The lights flicked on one after the other like a wave of falling dominoes. The lamps swayed towards me as if pushed by fierce wind. But the chokingly dry air remained still. The wave continued until it was just too long. Lamps away from me. Just one dead light separated me from the bright puddle where whatever it was had stopped. I heard a click and was suddenly plunged into darkness. I had been too still for too long. The lamp above my head had turned off. I stood in a sea of black, facing off against this little puddle of light above my invisible foe. I was still rooted to this spot. Then, too, the opposing light turned off. I stood in a sea of oil. Nothing but pure black surrounded me. The oppressively tall shelves on either side may well have been miles away for all I could see. I could feel my heartbeat in my eyes. I could feel the stink of the shifts, sweat starting to infect the air around me. But I saw nothing. There was nothing. Somewhere. Every few heartbeats a second hand ticked Beep. Beep. Beep. Every light in the isle burst with light with such power it was almost audible. A towering, fat black figure blocked the isle in all arched over me, nearly blotting out the light above my head. He swayed and grew, pulsed like he was a cloud of ink swimming in unseen water. Hands as big as bin lids fanned out on either side and swam over to grab me. Beep. Beep. Beep. The final beep was enough to break through my fear and get my feet moving. I sent every ounce of adrenaline and blue bear strength to my calves and started running with enough force to rupture every blister on my feet. My socks swam with blood and fluid. The torn bubbles of skin rubbed and ripped and squeaked over the open wounds, but I couldn't even feel it. I just kept pounding my feet down the solidly lit aisle, my scanner beeping wildly to tell me that my pick rate was slipping. Lights ahead of me wouldn't turn on, but my long pulsing shadow in front of me showed that behind me something was setting them and following me. I didn't dare stop running until I nearly broke the door into the staff room. No one was there but Derek. He squinted at me, and then a strange look spread over his face, a soft expression I had not seen before, sympathetic even. He stood up and entered a small code into my scanner. The small red warning light turned green and my pick rate reset. I'll transfer you to the day shift. My heart skipped about anxiously, and I took another deep breath to calm my steadily rising nerves. While Melinda set the room up for our game, I sat at the center of Mel's bedroom, feeling every bit the part of a lab rat. The room had been tidied, the floor cleared of any obstructions as she fumbled to set up the old this episode
- [38:27]
A
is brought to you by State Farm. Listening to this podcast instead of doom scrolling Smart Move Another smart move getting help from one of State Farm's 19,000 local agents when you choose to bundle home and auto bundling. Just another way to save with the personal price plan. Prices are based on rating plans that vary by state. Coverage options are selected by the customer. Availability, amount of discounts and savings and eligibility vary by state.
- [38:54]
B
Chevy is called the heartbeat of America for a reason. With SUVs made to move with your rhythm, the versatile Equinox tackles your entire day. The spacious traverse fits your crew and your whole weekend, and tracks bring style with value you can count on, all infused with tech that has your back. So your drive always hits the the right Cord Chevrolet together. Let's drive.
- [39:22]
A
Hey, I just Venmoed you for rent. Nice.
- [39:24]
B
Now I can instantly spend it whether I'm checking out online with Venmo or using a Venmo debit card.
- [39:29]
A
Say more. More.
- [39:31]
B
Exactly. Because the more you do with Venmo, the more you get. Like earning up to 5% cash back with Venmo Stash on a bundle of brands. So order more pizza. The meth demands it.
- [39:41]
A
Get the Venmo debit card Venmo Stash
- [39:44]
B
bundle terms and exclusions apply. See terms at Venmo Me Stash termsterms Venmo Checkout not available at all merchants Venmo mastercard is issued by the Bancorp Bank. Na bonjour, compadre. It's the Priceline negotiator. How do I negotiate so many great travel deals? My greatest gadget? The Priceline app. It's got hotel deals, flight deals, rental car deals, all of those deals in a bundle deals, game day deals, concert trip deals. No one deals more deals than Priceline. Hold your horses. There's more. The app lets you filter hotels by neighborhood vibe, star level, and amenities like pools and spas and beachfronts and. Wait, I'm not done. Stop cutting me up.
- [40:22]
A
One crunchy bite of her Hershey's Cookies and cream bar and I'm taken right back to college. Move in. Day I was a little overwhelmed by the newness of it all. Boxes were everywhere. I needed a break from unpacking. But just as I was able to take a breath and open my Hershey's Cookies cream bar, my new roommate, Rachel walked in. I offered her a piece, but she said no. Then after a beat, she said, actually, those are my favorite ones. We left the ice was broken, and we've been friends ever since. Hershey's. It's your happy place.
- [40:52]
B
Old mahogany cheval mirror that we had managed to fumble down from her attic a few feet in front of me. The room was dim, intentionally so, casting us in an unusually oppressive sort of darkness. The only light, with the exception of the candle we were using in the spirit of the game, was the moonlight streaming in through the window, which Mel had left open for the crisp night air. I shivered, both from the chill of the house made frigid by the Illinois fall weather and the dark mass of anticipation so swelling within me at the prospect of the game ahead, which particularly at that moment, felt far more like an experiment than a game. Mel turned to face me, then the mirror again, checking to make sure that my reflection was perfectly aligned at the center of its large surface. Finally satisfied with everything's place, she turned to face me. Okay, she said, clasping her hands together and shooting me a wide, excitable grin. You ready? Her eyes gleamed with nervous yet enthused anticipation. You get what we're doing, right? I shrugged. The video she had sent me had given a brief explanation of the game ritual. Whatever it was, was enough that I had a basic understanding. Still, as I sat in almost complete darkness, only the light of my phone illuminating the mirror, I couldn't help but feel a steadily creeping sense of unease at the prospect, like so many strangling vines tightening around me. It wouldn't hurt to hear it all explained again, if for no other reason than to just buy myself a bit more time. Just explain it one more time. Like which part? What the game is or how to play it. I nodded, smirking a little. She shot me a look of mild irritation, lips pursing into a tight frown, but obliged with a sigh. Okay, well, we're playing the mirror game, obviously. She gestured to the mirror behind her. I caught a glimpse of myself in it and couldn't help but frown, pulling my sweater tight around me. It's simple. You stare at yourself in the mirror for about 10 minutes, like really look at yourself, and after a while you'll start seeing things. Things? I asked, the rising waters of reluctance audible in my voice. She shrugged. Things? She responded back. There's nothing specific. Some people see their face change, others see shadows or colors. It really depends on the person. As her words painted eerie pictures in my mind, I found my gaze wandering back to the mirror and felt a cold chill down my back like an icy caress. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and letting my mind drift towards the sounds of the night around me. From the open window I could hear the sounds of the surrounding woodland, the chirp of crickets and the croak of distant toads from the bog paired with the breeze moving through the leaves to form a soothing melody. I let myself focus on it, trying to quell my uneasiness.
- [44:28]
A
What?
- [44:29]
B
I paused, considering what I was asking. How is that possible? She scoffed again, arms hanging at her side in an expression fit for a frustrated child, not a 17 year old. I don't know. Science stuff. Your brain like makes up stuff to fill in what it can't see properly. Something like that. Did you even watch the video? I nodded. Relax. I tried it already. I saw some weird shadows. My face did some weird stuff in the mirror, but it wasn't too bad. I thought that over for a second and we're in the dark because at that a slightly mischievous grin slipped to her face. She scratched her head, the tattoo on her arm flexing as she did so. My eyes lingered on it, a little smiley face, right eye winking almost conspiratorially. That, she began, was my idea. Thought it added a little atmosphere. She waved her hands like some budget magician at the word atmosphere and we both laughed for a good bit after. After a moment her expression settled, smile fading. You ready? I guess, I muttered, sighing and casting a glance at the sky outside, littered with the distant stars like flecks of white cast across a dark canvas. I'll set the stopwatch. You should be done around the 10 minute mark, but you should start seeing things at 5. Nothing bad should happen. But obviously if you need anything thing, I'll be right outside the door. My stomach felt knotted with a sort of anxiety that I had previously only known being strapped down to the seat of some terrifying amusement park ride as a child. It's the sensation you get having locked yourself in for an experience that promises discomfort, at least horror, and maybe fate's far worse. most. I simply nodded steadily, burgeoning nerves robbing me of my voice for a moment. Mel nodded back and after setting up her phone to record me, leaning in against the back of her desk, which sat to the side of the old mirror, she made her way to the bedroom door. Have fun, she chirped, casting a final look my way. And good luck. All I could manage was a nod in response, the faint tingle of unease gnawing at my gut. As the door shut behind her, I felt a small surge of that animal panic one only feels alone in the dark. It was a strange, contradictory sort of terror, both utterly isolating, yet feeling as though every snap of a twig or rustling, trickling leaf might harbor some unseen threat lingering just out of sight. I shuddered once more in my seat, this time having less to do with the temperature, frigid as it was. It's cold, I thought. This is stupid. I should just My mind began running through every reason to abandon our experiment outright. Still, I had agreed to try this. It had sounded interesting before. I was actually sitting in the dark by myself, and I knew Melinda wouldn't let me hear the end of it. Besides, once it was done, it would be her turn to try, which was a funny enough thought, given her jumpiness, to stir some motivation. I sighed, locking eyes with myself in the mirror a few feet ahead, taking stock of my appearance as I settled in. For 10 likely very boring minutes, I grimaced. I had never been much of a fan of my appearance. I knew I wasn't ugly, but it had always bothered me how my nose felt just a tad too big for my face, or how bushy my eyebrows were. I never spent too long long looking at myself for fear of whatever imperfection I might discover next. Still, Mel had spent almost an hour convincing me I looked fine and that perhaps it might help to see a crazier version of me, if anything, and my resolve faded as curiosity struck. A twitch from just between my eyes derailed my train of thought. I paused, staring at the space, though there was nothing. For a moment I was certain I had seen something moving, crawling down between my eyebrows, across my nose. Still, whatever it was, it was gone as soon as it had appeared. I sucked in a breath, trying to still my heart. I was already questioning myself whether I had actually seen anything or, in my nervousness, convinced myself that I had. Just relax. If you freak out, Mel will never let you hear the end of it. It's just a game. My attempts to reassure myself helped a bit, but as the seconds passed, my eyes locked on their counterparts in the mirror. I couldn't help but feel the distinct sort of unease one feels when they lock eyes with an eerie stranger. As the seconds passed, I began to question myself. Had my eyes always been so beady? Did I always appear so angry? Perhaps it was the lighting, I thought, or the angle at which I sat, but I couldn't help but notice how upset I looked.
- [50:29]
A
Looked.
- [50:30]
B
My eyebrows seemed to curve, creating a permanent glare. Lips rested in something nearing a sneer. It seemed almost sinister somehow. It didn't feel right. I shifted, swallowing hard as I forced a smile. I smiled until I was Squinting, watching with a mild unease in the mirror as my face shifted in response. Somewhere in the depths of my gut, I felt a distant, almost perceivable twinge of dread. I was smiling, obviously, but somehow even that didn't look right. I ran my fingers across my face, an odd sense of dysphoria taking hold as I did so. I couldn't explain it, but I felt almost disconnected from what I was seeing before me. Even my smile looked wrong. Sarcastic, almost. Is this what she was talking about? The illusions? The thought was both comforting and slightly unnerving. If this was the effect, a strange, mild shift in my expression, I supposed it wasn't anything too bad, though there was something deeply disconcerting about it. I blinked. Wait. Did I blink? I felt my mind beginning to race, a mild undercurrent of panic beginning to set in. I'd seen myself blink, but for some reason I couldn't remember doing it. It's an incident instinct. You blink without realizing it. Just relax. My reasoning was sound, though somehow, deep down, I remained unconvinced. I had seen my reflection blink. There was no way for that to be possible. Unless I hadn't. With every passing moment, it felt like. Like the mirror was fading away, falling into the background, and my reflection growing more prominent, more pronounced. It's difficult to explain. Even now. You'll start seeing things. It's different for everyone. Mel's words played in my head, abating some of the growing panic with the much needed reminder. This was supposed to happen after all. There was no specific thing I was supposed to see. But the whole point was to see whatever illusion my mind conjured up. I guess mine was as imaginative as blinking. The thought almost made me laugh when I noticed something. It was strange, difficult to even put into words at first. I could see that there was something wrong, wrong with my reflection. Yet for a while, I couldn't tell what. It felt as though my eyes were adjusting. Yet with every second, my own face seemed less familiar than before. Seconds passed with my eyes locked on my reflection, a silent, eerie tension in the air. It took a moment before I could tell exactly what felt off about it. My expression. Or rather, the expression of my reflection. My face. My reflection was staring at me, its face a placid mask of something like surprise or shock. Eyes wide and unblinking. My heart threw itself against my ribs, thudding with such intensity I could feel it in my ears. As initial confusion, confusion quickly began to give way. The slow trickle of panic grew to be a torrent. I began to make exaggerated expressions in the mirror, my mind desperately trying to make sense of the situation. The me in the mirror was unmoved. It took me several seconds to process the impossible reality of the situation. This is okay. This is supposed to happen. The reminders did little to assuage the swelling sense of animal panic, a primal sort of instinct that screamed for me to stop, to cover the mirror and get as far from that room as possible. I wouldn't let myself do it though. It was nothing more than an illusion after all, and knowing Mel was on the other side of the the door made the idea of bursting out in a panic a reluctant one. My reflections expression began to shift from a wide eyed, stomach churning stare to a look of morbid disgust. I felt my stomach flip as I watched its face shift with an unnatural speed and countenance, its brows arching angrily with an almost cartoonish exaggeration, a sneer of unwavering disgust peeling across its lips. Slowly it began to rise from its my chair, its expression somehow only growing more hostile. Nothing more than an illusion. I tried my hardest to remain convinced of that. Yet as the reflection rose to full height, standing over me in my chair, it all seemed far too intricate for any illusion that wasn't from some substance. My jaw twitched as I teetered on the verge of calling out for Melinda. The more this progressed, the less I found myself worried about seeming terrified I was. The other me raised a finger as if to indicate patience, and a cold dread swept through my chest as I watched it reach somewhere out of the mirror, its hand disappearing from view. For several moments my heart pounded as it watched me, eyes gleaming with a look of malice that made my blood curdle. Nothing more than an illusion. It's nothing more than There was a faint sound from the side of the the mirror, a familiar hiss of wood. The candle flickered, then went out, plunging me into a darkness that seemed to move in on me. My eyes strained through the sparse light, only the moonlight oozing through the clouds and open window to illuminate the scene before me. I felt my mouth fall open in the silent question as I watched the drawer Mel used for her makeup supplies on the desk that sat beside the mirror. It slid open with a slow, deliberate sort of motion. From within I could hear movement. My eyes darted between my reflection and the desk, my mind reeling as it refused to make the impossible connection until I saw what was in her My hands. It was a small handheld makeup mirror. I'd seen Melinda use it dozens of times. I'd even borrowed it on occasion. Realization struck with the force of a sucker punch, and I quickly realized I was shaking. Despite my best attempts, this was more than a mere illusion. Somehow, someway, the thing in the mirror was more than just the effect of light reflecting back off of a surface. It was tangible, real. The other me's smile stretched and stretched and stretched impossibly wide until I could see all of its teeth in an expression more fit for a shark than anything resistance resembling a human. I tried to stand, but as I did, it threw itself back into the chair, eyes locking with mine. I felt something in my head. It's difficult to describe, almost like having another user log into the same computer. For a split second there was the feeling that I was momentarily somehow locked to it. My knees buckled and I fell back into the chair with a painful thud, my back landing awkwardly against it. I felt a scream rising in my throat as the panic reached a fever pitch, mouth already agape, Mel's name on the tip of my tongue. When it crushed the mirror, I cried out, my right hand side searing with pain, my flesh burning with the unmistakable sensation of glass digging deeper into my palm. At a glance I could see no blood, but the palm of my hand burned a deep red, several gashes visible beneath the skin. Our eyes locked. A primal horror gripped me as I took a shuddering breath, and it glared back at me with that smile. Before I could call out, scream for Melinda's help, it raised its bleeding hand to its face, stretching its mouth open, slowly releasing the contents inside. The effect was immediate. Dueling sensations of warmth and cool coated my tongue, and though I didn't understand how I could taste the metallic blue blood in my mouth, feel the cuts appearing across my tongue as it smiled at me. Sticky ribbons of scarlet saliva trailed from my lips as I was too afraid to even risk swallowing while my mouth filled with the rancid taste. I waited with a pounding heart for the excruciating pain in my throat, struggling to stave off nausea, unsure of what might happen if I accidentally swallowed. I took small, deliberate breaths through my nose. But the pain never came. It watched me, its utterly inhumane appearance somehow seeming satisfied as it took in my reaction. It isn't trying to kill me yet. The understanding emerged suddenly from the maelstrom of horror and panic, something in its expression resonating. It just wanted me quiet. It's not done with me. The thought was like venom in my mouth, my mind spinning with the unnerving possibilities of just what that could mean. None of them were good. I tried to stand again, but found my muscles felt locked in place, the attempt making my leg seize with painful cramps. Oh, crap. I tried moving my feet, keeping my eyes locked on the mirrors, and I could feel my toes moving. So I wasn't paralyzed, it seemed, but as long as my doppelganger remained seated, I would be too. My mind spun as I tried to think of some way, any way to call out. Its eyes were changing, shrinking until only the pupils were left. I wanted to run, to scream, but I knew I could do neither. The sensation of the phantom glass shifting in my mouth as its sinister grin stretched served as a warning. Warning. Despite its inhumane appearance, its expression was unnervingly familiar. It was a nightmarish version of the look I would get right before doing something I shouldn't. A grin that usually spoke of mischief, now one of unspeakable bloodlust. I knew I had to act, but whatever came next would surely be devastating. I couldn't have expected what was going to happen. She rose to her feet in an instant, and my every muscle shrieked out in searing pain as I repeated the act unwillingly. Her teeth began to chatter with what I can only assume was excitement, giving that nightmare smile an even more otherworldly effect. Those pain pin prick eyes peering through me. Slowly, she. We raised our hands to the corner of the mirror. My heart throbbed painfully with dreadful anticipation as they approached the corner, growing closer, closer, until the tips of my fingers touched the surface. It wasn't cool as glass should be. Instead, I felt a warmth beneath, as though I were merely touching the window of some warm room. It was then that the glass began to. To move. The sensation sent a sickening chill down my back, raising goose flesh in its wake, the warm glass beginning to swell outward where my her fingers touched. I knew immediately what it was doing, and the icy claws of terror sunk deeper into my mind with the understanding. It's. It's trying to get out, I thought, my stomach churning with a nausea bred from adrenaline. It's trying to get out of the mirror. I was right. And as if to confirm my realization, I watched in horror as, one by one, her fingers began to emerge, pulling through the glass that looked more like liquid. Now, with notable effort, it brought to mind the image of an animal reaching through an amniotic sac, and the thought made me want to vomit. Its flesh was impossibly cold, like ice to the touch, corpse like, and I wanted nothing more than to pull away. But I was stuck, my legs locked in the standing position, one arm locked at my side while the other began to grasp the Hand reaching out to the mirror. Her grip began to tighten around my fingers with an impossible strength. I felt something crack in my index finger and a dull yet searing pain radiated through my hand. My vision spun with the pain. I wanted to scream, but held it back, my mouth clattering open and shut in unison with its own, the painful shift of glass palpable every time. I watched terror washing through me like flood waters as slowly her hand began to emerge. It pushed upwards as though moving through the surface of solid, solid water. Gripping my wrist with impossible strength, it pulled me closer, drawing its face nearer as it tried to press its way forth. Ear close to the surface, I could hear its voice. It was the hiss of death and decaying things, the whisper of dead fall leaves as winter's chill, cold hand left the world barren. I have spent a lifetime staring back at you, watching the pathetic life you lead attached to this disgusting form. A lifetime whispering. That voice at the back of your head, urging you to cut and trim and break yourself. Its face slowly began to push through the glass, warping and splitting as it emerged. The center of its face emerged from the glass, and for a moment I could see what it truly was. Its skin was pale, the inhuman gray of a corpse with divots running through its skull almost like a pumpkin. Where there should have been a nose, there is no nothing but skin. The only thing that remained was that smile stretched impossibly wide, dripping with murderous intent as it began to pull its top half through. Its form quickly returned to the mirror version of my own. And you brought me here. Now you'll watch from behind the glass. I knew immediately what it intended. Goosebumps charged along my back as I pictured myself trapped somehow within the mirror. If this is what was coming from the other side, I couldn't imagine what lurked there. I had to do something. Screaming was out of the question, as was running. Any attempt would at once best result in nothing and at worst my collapse. I worked my grip nervously around the corner of the mirror. She. It was so close I could feel the unnatural chill radiating from her skin and smell the rancid scent of decay heavy on its breath. I noticed quickly how its nose leaned to the right, the reverse of my own. An odd detail that my mind seemed to grasp, and what I felt might be my final moments. It's cold. Always cold inside. You'll never know. Warmth again. Just the cold, harsh touch of the mirror. It giggled, a cackling sound that made it evident that it never made such a noise before. It was then that an Idea emerged from the midst of the Milstrom of terror, a Hail Mary from somewhere in the panicked recesses of my mind. Burning anxiety coiled around my heart at the thought of what I was going to do, knowing that failure meant certain death or worse. Still, it seemed. It seemed that or a fate worse was almost sealed. I had no other choice. I gripped the mirror for dear life, gritting my teeth despite the pain. The other me was a little more than halfway out, its body with gray skin almost reptilian in appearance. In the brief seconds before it regained my own, I could feel its hot breath of my ear, taste the rot that seemed to spill from its very pores. It ran its tongue along my cheek, unnaturally long and forked, covered in small barbs. It's so cold and dark. Misery. Until the moment some wretched, weak thing comes to stare at you. Don't worry, I'll visit often. Every time I pass a mirror. It was pulling me forward, my face nearing the surface of the mirror over its shoulder. I prayed my Hail Mary found its target, and with a final breath I tried to step back. My legs locked, and instead I found myself slowly tipping backward. There was a split second as me and the mirror rocked. It stuck in my grip where the thing peered down, then back at me, confusion playing on its face. In an instant, as I slowly began to rock backward, it was replaced with a fury that made me want to leap out of my skin. No. It snarled, its every feature twisted in a mask of animal rage. It clamped down on my arm, its mouth large enough to engulf most of my forearm. I felt it digging in, dull teeth slowly sinking through my flesh. The pain was excruciating, yet it was almost dulled by the realization that it was too late. As we began to careen backward, it released its grip, emitting a shriek that haunts me, my nightmares until this day. An odd cross between the haunting wail of a mountain lion and the sound of metal in a car crash. I hit the ground with a thud that sent white waves of pain through me. The sound of shattering glass immediately followed, and through blurred vision I watched as it shattered with the mirror. Instantly the pain in my mouth was was gone, replaced by the sharp ache of my skull and back as I lay amongst the glass. The door flew open and in a panic I struggled to stand, cutting my hand on some of the glass. Mel stared back at me from the open door, her expression equal parts shocked, confused and horrified. What the hell happened? She almost screamed, taking in the sight of my bloodied form amongst the glass. She quickly crossed the room, careful to avoid the worst of the mess as she extended an arm to me. I was about to explain, panic still clinging to me like a stubborn fume, prepared to tell her everything. When I paused, my eyes lingered for a moment on her arm, on the smiling tattoo she had gotten at the end of our junior year. My stomach turned. I couldn't understand how I had missed it before. You okay? She asked, still appearing shocked. Yeah, I. I tried to stand up. I. I got dizzy, I offered, pulling my sleeve down to hide the clear bite marks on my arm. I. I think I should get going. I don't feel the best. Should I drive you? She asked, making her way towards her dresser for her keys. I can if you no, no, no. I'm fine. It'll clear my head, I said, and before she could dispute, I was making my way to the door. I exited the house, trying not to seem overly eager. Mel's lingering presence in the background made my heart pound with nauseatingly familiar anxiety as I pulled away. My eyes did not leave the house or her standing in the its front yard until they were long out of sight. When she was, I hit the gas, speeding home and locking every door and window upon arrival. She has called me several times in the past few days, even stopped by. I told my parents not to answer. I'm not planning on answering her calls either. You see, it wasn't until the moment she offered me her hand that it clicked. Perhaps my paranoia had raised my perception a bit, or I was just willing to acknowledge what might have seemed an odd mistake before. But now I know for sure. I'd been there when Melinda got her tattoo, holding her hand as the design was drawn into her skin. It had been something simple, just a simplistic smiley face winking its eye. When I arrived home that night after locking myself in my room, I hurried to my phone, scrolling through old photos for one in particular, praying that I was mistaken. It was taken the night she got the tattoo. When I saw it, cold confirmation settled in. In the image on my phone, the tattoo was winking with its left eye. No matter how hard I rack my mind from every memory I have of her that night, it had been winking. It's right. I don't know how long my flight friend has been gone, swapped with her doppelganger from beyond the glass. What I do know is that thing that was there with me that night, who invited me to play that game? It was never Mel. I guess if there's anything to be taken from this, it's to be wary of your reflection. I don't really spend much, much unnecessary time looking in the mirror anymore. You never know who or what is really looking back. The crisp autumn air filled with my lungs as I stepped out of my car, the scent of pine needles mingling with the promise of relaxation. The Moonlight Pines Resort, nestled in the heart of the dense forest, beckoned with its promises of escape and tranquility. It seemed like the perfect getaway from the stresses of everyday life, an oasis of serenity in the midst of nature's embrace. The resort's grand entrance greeted me with towering pine trees lining the driveway, their branches reaching out like ancient fingers ready to weave tales of the forest's secrets. The main lodge stood ahead, its architecture blending seamlessly with the natural surroundings. As I approached, the heavy wooden door swung open, revealing a warm, inviting interior. A friendly receptionist named Emily handed me a brass key with a small pine cone shaped keychain. Room 237, sir. You'll find it on the second floor overlooking the forest. Enjoy your stay at Moonlight Pines. With a smile, I thanked her and headed towards the elevator. As the doors closed, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched, but I dismissed it as a byproduct of my overactive imagination. The hallway on the second floor was dimly lit, casting eerie shadows along the walls. Room 237's door creaked open as I inserted the key, revealing a cozy and well appointed suite. The large window offered a breathtaking view of the pine forest below the moon moonlight casting an ethereal glow on the swaying branches. The first night at Moonlight Pines was peaceful. I fell asleep to the soothing whispers of the wind rustling through the trees. However, as the days went by, a subtle unease began to settle over me. The atmosphere shifted from tranquil to tense, as if the forest itself held slightly secrets it wished to share. One evening, as I strolled through the resort's expansive grounds, the pines seemed to whisper in a language only they understood. The wind carried words that sent shivers down my spine, though I could not decipher their meaning. I tried to dismiss it as a trick of my imagination. With the feeling of being watched intensified that night as I lay in bed, the room took on an oppressive aura. Shadows danced along the walls, and the wind outside howled like a mournful spirit. Just as I was about to dismiss it all as paranoia, a faint tapping echoed through the room. It was rhythmic, deliberate, insane seemed to come from the window. Reluctantly, I approached the window and pulled back the heavy curtains. The moonlit forest greeted me, but something was off. Among the pines, dark figures moved silently, their shapes undulating like shadows. Panic set in, and I stumbled back, my heart racing. The next day, I decided to explore the resort in search of answers. Moonlight Pines, once a haven of peace, now felt like a labyrinth of secrets. The staff seemed oblivious to the unsettling undercurrents, their smiles masking an unease that lingered just below the surface. In my quest for understanding, I stumbled upon an old photograph in the resort's library. Dated decades ago, it depicted a group of people clad in outdated clothing, their eyes hauntingly familiar. Among them was a figure that sent a chill down my spine, A man who bore an uncanny resemblance to me. The library's ancient books held tales of an ancient curse whispered to be tied to the very soil on which Moonlight Pines stood. Legend spoke of a vengeful spirit, wronged in life and seeking retribution from those who dared intrude upon its domain. Determined to uncover the truth, I delved into the resort's history. It turned out that moonlight population pines had been built on the remnants of an old village long forgotten by time. The village had fallen victim to a mysterious affliction, and its inhabitants had vanished without a trace. With a sinking feeling, I realized that the figure in the photograph bore the same name as mine. A distant ancestor, perhaps. The curse scene to to have latched onto my connection to the village, weaving a web of darkness around me. As the days passed, the whispers and the pines grew louder, their voices reaching a fevered pitch, and the tapping on the window became incessant. Sleep became a distant memory, replaced by haunting dreams that blurred the lines between reality and nightmare nightmares. My desperation drove me to seek the help of A local historian, Mrs. Thompson, who knew the secrets of Moonlight Pines. Without a knowing gaze, she shared the tragic tale of a wronged spirit seeking redemption, Trapped in the endless cycle of revenge. Mrs. Thompson guided me to a hidden chamber beneath the resort where ancient symbols adorn the walls. The air was heavy with the weight of the past, and a sense of foreboding clung to the space. She explained that the curse could only be broken by appeasing the restless spirit, allowing it to find peace at last. Armed with newfound knowledge, I embarked on a journey to unravel the mysteries of the ancient village. Guided by the whispers and the pines, I discovered a hidden burial ground deep within the forest. The gravestones bore the names of the long forgotten villagers, their souls trapped in limbo. With each step, the forest seemed to come alive, revealing memories of a time gone by. The spirit of the wronged man from the Photograph led me through the shadows, recounting a tale of betrayal and tragedy that had condemned him to an eternity of torment. In a clearing surrounded by gnarled trees, I uncovered the truth behind the curse, a solemn ritual that had been performed centuries ago, sealing the fate of the village and its inhabitants. I stood motionless. Oh, my God. The spirit, once apparently man of flesh and blood, had been betrayed by those he trusted most. Driven by a newfound purpose, I embarked on a quest to break the curse and free the tormented souls. The ancient symbols in the hidden chamber served as a guide, and with each carefully executed step, the air crackled with energy. The whispers in the pines reached a crescendo, echoing the agony of the past. As the final symbol was etched into the stone floor, the forest fell silent. The shadows retreated, and the wind ceased its mournful wail. A blinding light enveloped the clearing, and for a moment, time itself seemed to stand completely still. When the light subsided, the forest appeared different, revitalized, as if the curse had lifted. The spirits of the long lost villagers finally at peace, fading into the ether. The wronged man, his eyes filled with gratitude, nodded before dissipating into the air. Returning to Moonlight Pines, the once oppressive atmosphere had lifted. The pines whispered words of gratitude, and the shadows that once clung to the corners of the resort retreated. The staff, once trapped in a facade of normalcy, now wore genuine smiles, their eyes reflecting a newfound serenity. As I checked out Emily, the receptionist, handed me a small pine cone shaped keychain. This is a token of our appreciation for what you've done. Thank you so much, sir. Moonlight Pines is so grateful. Her words carried a weight of sincerity, and as I left the resort, the whispers in the pines seemed to echo a chorus of thanks. Driving away, I glanced back at Moonlight Pines, the grand facade now bathed in the warm light of a new beginning. The ancient forest, once a realm of darkness, now held the promise of renewal. As the pines waved farewell in the gentle breeze, I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment, knowing that the curse that haunted Moonlight Pines had finally been laid to rest. I just really hope it stays this way. It's.