Transcript
A (0:00)
Hey, this is Dane and this is Scary Stories in Rain. Please join my family and follow this podcast on Spotify or Apple. And if you want the ultimate experience, you can get rid of all of the ads and be entered to win all of my giveaways every month by subscribing for just 299amonth. All of the ads gone. Every single giveaway automatically entered. And starting now today, every Sunday, I'm going to release the ultimate episode. 6 to 12 hours long ultimate Scary Stories for a Rainy Night. Subscriber Exclusive and as a reminder, we are now four months away from my first movie release in theaters. Gale Yellow Brick Road A dark and terrifying reimagining of the wizard of Oz. If you want to check out the first trailer, click the link in the description to this episode and if you're not following my other two podcasts, please go check them out. Scary Stories and Fire and Scary Stories After Dark. The links are in the description thank you so much for being here and I really hope you enjoy this episode. As a raider scavenging a derelict world, you settle into an underground settlement. But now you must return to the surface where arc machines roam. If you're brave enough, who knows what you might find. Arc Raiders Multiplayer Extraction Adventure video Game buy now for PlayStation 5, Xbox Series X and S and PC rated T for Teen.
B (1:33)
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A (2:24)
The Town of Ingleswood was in the middle of nowhere, according to the map. I had never heard of it before, and neither had any of my friends when I had asked them before leaving. Even more strange was receiving correspondence from a relative I hadn't spoken to since I was a young child. It had come out of nowhere. A letter proclaiming my great uncle to be dead and informing me that I had inherited a slaughterhouse in a town I had never even heard of. A slaughterhouse, of all things. I might have thought it was a prank had there not been a rusted metal key included in the letter. Somehow part of me knew the key was real and that it belonged to the slaughterhouse my great uncle had once owned. The ownership had been passed on to me for reasons as of yet unknown, and I would have to drive up there in order to settle the inheritance. Which is why I was currently driving down a long, serpentine road through a dense cluster of trees. It was still early afternoon, but the sky was gray and heavy, casting a dismal pall over the forest. Shadows crept out of the trees and onto the road, making it difficult to see without my headlamps. I shuffled forward in my seat, hands gripping the wheel tighter as the trees grew around me. I had been driving for just over three hours now, and it had been at least 30 minutes since I had last seen another car. According to my map, I should be almost there. Yet I hadn't seen any sign of civilization. Nothing but empty fields and abandoned, ramshackle buildings in the middle of nowhere. And now this forest that seemed endless and labyrinthine. The tires hit something in the road and the car jerked, throwing me forward in my seat. I slammed my foot on the brakes and the car skidded to a stop, gravel hissing beneath the tires. I glanced into my rear view and spied a shadow on the road, but I couldn't tell what it was. Had I hit an animal or something? I hadn't seen anything. I debated ignoring it and driving off, but in the end I cut the engine and climbed out of the car. The air beneath the trees was cold, and goosebumps prickled the back of my neck as I walked over to the misshapen lump on the road. The smell hit me first, the smell of old, rotten blood. It was an animal carcass, a rabbit, perhaps, or something else. It was too mangled and bloodied for me to tell. Flies buzzed around the torn flesh, the gray glint of bone poking beneath the fur. Whatever it was, it had been dead for a while. I stood up and shook my head, lip curling against the stench. I had moved it off the road, but I didn't have anything with me that would do the trick, and I would rather not touch it without proper protection. I would have to leave it. Maybe carrion birds would come and pick it clean later. I returned to my car, feeling a little bit nauseated, and drove off, watching the dead animal disappear behind Me. Fifteen minutes later, I finally broke free from the forest. Muted gray sunlight parted the clouds, dappling the windscreen. On the other side of the trees were more fields, still empty. I found it odd that there was no cattle around. No sheep or pigs either. What was the use of a slaughterhouse if there was nothing to slaughter? In the distance I glimpsed a small cluster of buildings. It was more like a settlement than a town, stone and brick and straw. Not the kind of place I had expected to find myself inheriting a building. Had my great uncle really lived out here in the middle of nowhere? Was that why I have never heard of him? The road turned loose and rutted and the car jerked and bumped as I drove closer to the town. A small sign, weathered and covered in mud, read, welcome to Ingleswood. At least it had a sign. The place wasn't a made up town after all. I pulled the car to a stop at the side of the road and pulled out my map again. The letter had contained specific coordinates to the slaughterhouse, which, according to the map, was a little distance away from the town itself, on the very borders. If I followed the road for a couple more miles and then took a left, I should arrive at the house. A flutter of nervous energy tightened my stomach. I didn't really know what to expect when I got there, or what I was going to do about the situation. The only reason I had driven down here was to get a better understanding of things, assess the area, and try and figure out what to do. Should I sell the slaughterhouse or move here? The latter option didn't sound particularly appealing after getting a glimpse of the area, but I wouldn't know until I had a proper look around. I followed the loose gravel road for a little while longer before spotting a turnoff to the left. The remains of a broken stone wall lined the path, and I spotted another sign that was too rusted to read, signaling to turn. Even though there were no other cars in the area. I followed the path through the sheltered, wooded area until I reached a small house. It was more of a cottage, really, with white bricks and a thatched roof. The place had an air of dilapidation about it, as though nobody had lived here in a while. Considering my great uncle had only recently passed away, I knew that wasn't true. Beside the house was a large freestanding shed. A rusted padlock was chained around the doors, and I knew without a doubt that the key I had been given was the key to the shed. Did that mean the shed was the slaughterhouse? I parked the car in the grass and climbed out. The air out here was fresh and pleasant, a nice change from the city, though beneath the fragrance of nature I could smell something else. Something darker, richer. Old blood and rust and butchered meat. I threw a brief glance at my surroundings. My gaze skimmed past the trees and the fields and the faint curl of smoke blotting the distant sky. I couldn't hear anything beyond the wind. No bird song, no chittering bugs. I couldn't hear cars or people or anything that would suggest there was a town nearby. I let out a sigh. Maybe it would feel lonely living out here. I was used to the city, after all. I grabbed my rucksack from the trunk and fished out the letter and the key. I had been given no key to the house, which was odd. I had phoned my great uncle's executor before driving out here, but apparently all material belongings were still inside the house, and the shed key was the only thing that had been passed on to me directly. I walked up to the cottage's door and tried the handle. Locked. Unsurprisingly. If I couldn't figure out a way to get inside, I would have to call a locksmith out here, which could take hours. Muttering in frustration, I began rooting around the rocks and broken plant pots sitting outside the cottage. Whatever plants had once resided there were now withered and shriveled, their roots black and gnarled as they poked through the soil. I turned one of the empty pots over and grinned when my eyes caught a glint of silver. I hadn't had my hopes up, so finding the key immediately lifted my spirits. At least now I could get inside the house. Leaving the slaughterhouse locked for now, I headed inside the cottage. The air was stale and heavy with dust, and my eyes immediately started to water. How long had it been since anyone had opened that door? I wasn't familiar with the circumstances of my great uncle's death, so I wasn't sure if he had spent his last moments in the house or not. That thought made me shudder as my nose picked up on the smell of damp and mold. Apart from some minimal furnishings, the house was mostly bare. I didn't know what kind of man my great uncle was, but apparently he didn't like clutter, and he very rarely dusted. I ran a finger over to the sideboard in the hallway and grimaced at the thick layer of dust clinging to my skin. If I did decide to stay here, it was going to take a lot of work to get this place up to standard. The longer I stayed here the more I wanted to leave without looking around, but I couldn't ignore it forever. At some point I would have to assess the state of the slaughterhouse and make a decision about what to do with it. I went through each room, casting a cursory look over the furniture and testing the electricity and water supply. Everything still seemed to be running, which was a bonus. I had already planned to stay the night here, so having hot water and lighting would make things easier. Upstairs, I paused on the landing to peer out the window. At the back of the house was a field of brown, uncut grass and some stilted shrubs. I could just see the edge of the shed beside the cottage, the old wood stained and weathered. In the distance, I could see the cluster of houses that formed the village. As I was about to turn away, I glimpsed movement at the edge of the property amongst the treeline. Someone stood between the trees, watching me. I couldn't get a good view of their face, but in the brief glance it seemed gray and hollow, like wax. The figure darted away through the trees and disappeared. I frowned, that unease from earlier returning. Was it a villager? Shaking it off, I searched the upstairs room, a large master bedroom and a bathroom. A linen cupboard and a smaller guest bedroom was all that was up here. Like downstairs, everything up here was old and run down, covered in a thick layer of dust and mildew. I closed the bedroom door behind me and went back down into the kitchen where I had left my rucksack. The rusted key to the slaughterhouse sat on the table where I had left it. I figured it was about time I went to see what I was dealing with next door. Grabbing the key, I left the house and went across to the shed. The metal of the padlock was ice cold against my fingertips. As I inserted the key and twisted it, the lock fell away and the door edged open with a creak. Shadows spilled out across my feet. I peered into the darkness as I gripped the edge of the door and pulled it open further. The air inside smelled stale and old. That same undercurrent of old blood ran beneath the surface. Drawing in a deep breath, I pushed the door the rest of the way and stepped inside, letting the dull afternoon light filter inside. The slaughterhouse was nothing like I had been expecting. Inside was nothing but an empty shed. The wood was damp and starting to rot, the ground full of old hay. There was no equipment that you would expect of a slaughterhouse, no cold room to store the meat. It was just an empty shed. Perhaps it wasn't a functioning slaughterhouse after all. But then why had it been called as such in the inheritance? Something glinted in the sunlight and I looked up. Several large metal hooks hung from the ceiling, the kind that you hung meat onto. But what was the point when there was nowhere to prepare it? Unless I was missing something, this was a plain old shed with some leftover meat hooks still stuck to the ceiling. I raked a hand through my hair and sighed. Was it a waste coming all the way out here? I shook my head. Not a waste. I still had to figure out what to do with this place, now that it was legally mine. Leaving the slaughterhouse, I relocked it and pocketed the key before heading back into the house. It was getting on in the afternoon and I was tired from driving all morning, so I decided to grab a bite to eat while I considered my options. By the time evening had rolled around, I still hadn't made up my mind about this place. There wasn't much merit to staying here if the slaughterhouse couldn't actually be used, and I didn't particularly fancy being stuck in the middle of nowhere. I could sell it, but not as it was. It would take a bit of work to to get it into a decent state and make it appealing to a potential buyer. The final option was to just leave it here, gathering dust, but that seemed a waste. I had debated heading to the village to see who lived around here, but after spying that strange figure watching me from the trees, part of me had been reluctant to venture too far from the house. Maybe I would walk down there in the morning. As dusk grew outside, shadows encroached further into the cottage and a chill crept into my bones. I turned on most of the lights and went around drawing the curtains to block out the night. I wasn't fond of sleeping in unfamiliar places, so I spread my sleeping bag on the floor of the downstairs sitting room instead of upstairs. Using hot water from the kitchen, I I made myself some instant noodles and ate them from the packet, listening to the radiator clank and groan as it rattled to life. Being on my own in a strange house was starting to make me feel a little unsettled, so I turned on the television to fill the silence. Nothing but static burst from the screen, so I switched it off just as quickly. With nothing else to do, I headed to bed early. I nestled into the sleeping bag and spread another blanket over me to ward off the chill and fell asleep the second my head hit the pillow.