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The new Apple Watch Series 10 is here.It has the biggest display ever.It's also the thinnest Apple Watch ever, making it even more comfortable on your wrist.
And it's the fastest-charging Apple Watch, getting you eight hours of charge in just 15 minutes.Introducing the all-new Apple Watch Series 10, now available for the first time in glossy jet black aluminum.
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Good evening.I'm storyteller Otis Jirye.And I ain't your grandfather.From where I'm from, we don't do bedtime stories. And if that's what you were expecting, you're in the wrong place.
If it's terrifying tales you're after, well then, I've got just the thing.Get comfortable.Settle in.Turn off the lights, if you dare.Your night is about to get a whole lot darker. Ha ha ha!
Mwahahaha!Good evening!You're listening to Scary Stories Told in the Dark.Welcome, dear listeners, to Season 16, Episode 5.I'm your host, Otis Jirye, and here as well is my neighbor, Malcolm Blackwood.Hello, dear listeners.
I hope you are well this evening. And in this episode, we'll be performing five tales to terrify you, courtesy of authors P.D.Williams, Craig Groshek, Kyle Harrison, Warren Peace, and Dale Thompson.
Tonight, we'll hear stories of vicious visions, deadly decisions, watery wastelands, problematic pregnancies, and terrible testing. You're listening to the standard edition of tonight's program, which contains the first three spine-tingling stories.
If you'd like to show your support and enjoy an extended version of this and other episodes with twice the terror, visit simplyscarypodcast.com and click Patrons in the upper menu to sign up today. Thank you for your support.
Your support is most deeply appreciated, and nothing warms our cold, unmoving hearts quite so much as providing more terror than you can take in one sitting.
Now, it's time to take a walk together down the moonlit trail.So, lock your doors, turn your lights down low, and settle in.The show is about to begin.Mwahahaha! Hi there, neighbor.Mind if I come under your porch for a change?
Come right up.Lovely evening we're having, what with all the pouring rain again and the wind howling through the trees.Reminds me of my summers in the country. Lots of thunderstorms in your youth?Possibly.
There was a lot of purple lightning and far-off distant screams, as if another universe was trying to break its way into our dimension.But, unfortunately, I wasn't able to make it happen.
I blame my children's first-dimensional kit for not having enough batteries.
A mixed blessing, but it is good story weather, and with all the howling and yowling, I have found a particularly good one.This one comes courtesy of author P.D.
Williams.Oh, I'm looking forward to it.Is it about dimensional monstrosities?
Well, it is about beings, but where they come from, I'll leave that up to you to decide.What I do know is that they seem a bit on the shady side.Without further ado, I present to you Wrath of Shadows.
I saw my first shadow person when I was ten years old.It terrified me then, and it terrifies me now. My name is Travis Burke, and you can believe me if you want to.It started one night at bedtime.
I was lying in the dark trying to ignore the battle sounds bleeding through the flimsy wall.The tension between my mom and George, her newest loose of a husband, was stifling.
Their arguments didn't care if it was a school night or not, so I learned to focus on the quiet things.
The swish of tree limbs outside my window, the occasional rain on the rooftop or the soft glow of my Avenger's wall clock, and the peaceful ticking of its second hand.As I was nodding off, something moved across the clock.
The form was so black that it stood out from the darkness itself.It drifted through the shadows like a murky mist.I lay there, frozen and breathless, watching, listening.The vein in my temple pulsed with every heartbeat.
I braced for an icy touch or the hissing of my name. Easing my arm from beneath the covers, I turned on the Captain America lamp on my nightstand.There was no lunging monster, no ghoul grasping.There was simply no one there.
I checked the usual hiding places where all monsters dwell, under the bed, inside the closet, but found nothing.Still, I shivered. At age ten, ghosts and monsters were still a frightening possibility to me.
I lay in bed with the lamp on until I couldn't stay awake any longer.When I woke up after a few hours of fitful sleep, the sun had risen.The first dull moments of wakefulness temporarily erased the previous night's episode from my mind.
The lamp was still on, and I remembered why. Getting dressed that morning, I debated whether I should tell Mom about the dark object.She'd probably just chalk it up to a bad dream and move on.Then there was the other part of the decision.
I didn't want to add weight to the heavy emotional bundle she was already lugging around. poor woman was working two part-time jobs and bowing before a three-pack-a-day habit.She was depressed and angry.She didn't need any more problems.
Besides, we already had a demon to deal with, so I kept it to myself.The next few nights were uneventful. It could have been the lights I kept on as a precaution, but I was starting not to think so.Maybe there'd been no spectre in the first place.
It was conceivable that it had been all a trick of my tired eyes.I was glad that I hadn't told Mom.I felt a little embarrassed about the whole thing. I turned off the lights and closed my eyes, curled up on my side.
I listened to the clocks ticking, my breath keeping time with the steady beats.Soon I felt the gentle tug of sleep.Noises came from inside my closet.Wire hangers tinkled, shoes tapped.My stomach was tight, my jaw trembled.
The doorknob creaked as it turned. Slowly, the door dragged over the carpet.I sat up and looked at the closet.A chill ran through me, like an electrical current as I watched four inky fingers curl out and grab hold of the outside edge of the door.
Whatever was on the other side shot out and landed on my ceiling like a fly.It was directly over me, so I had my first sight of the strange being. It resembled an adult human shadow.Suddenly, two white, beastly eyes sprang open and glared down at me.
Horror seized me, constricting my lungs, preventing me from screaming.And though terrified, I couldn't look away from the creature.Soundlessly, it dropped from the ceiling and locked me in a cold embrace.A rush of blackness filled my head, and then,
I couldn't remember.The following morning, I was startled awake when Mom yelled at me to get ready for school.I'd been so worked up at bedtime that I'd forgotten to set my alarm clock.
The first thing I noticed was that my pajamas were soaked in sweat.Then the hazy memory of the creature slithered through my mind, its image sharpening with every wriggle. I searched the room for something out of place, my ceiling in particular.
There was no sign that anything had been there, and I couldn't remember what had happened after I'd locked out.It was like trying to make sense of a past dream, but there was something different about me.Something was... off.
I went through the morning routine like a robot.Somehow. I faked my way through the day, and the couple of weeks that followed.
Sleep was hard to come by, but when I was able to do it, it was with the ceiling light, my superhero lamp, and my old Scooby-Doo nightlight on.Soon, it was early January, and Old Man Winter started throwing his weight around.
Our small, drafty house was locked up tight to keep out the cold, so it always reeked of alcohol and nicotine. If that wasn't bad enough, the winter months brought out the worst in George and Mom.
They were like two feral animals cooped up in a tiny cage.By now, Mom probably realized that marrying George had been a mistake.Some women marry men hoping to change them, but George did not subscribe to this plan.
For one thing, he liked to drink, and when he did, He darn well didn't want to be bothered.Sometimes, all it took to set him off was leaving my toys out.I can still feel his belt on my back.
I recall times when Mom and I would have to run to the bathroom and lock the door during one of his drunken outbursts.He would cower in the bathtub until he gave up and went to pass out in the living room.One evening after dinner,
I was on my bed doing homework.The overhead light gave me a headache, so I turned it off and used the lamp.As I perused my history book, I felt someone was staring at me.I jerked my head up.No one was there.
I waited for a bit before returning to my textbook.A few minutes later, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.When I turned to it, I began trembling.
In place of the usual shadows of my room, the figures of a man and woman were on my bedroom wall.They stood, facing each other, their mouths moving.A few seconds later, the man slapped the woman.
When she tried to fight back, the slaps became punches.Then the man choked her until she went limp.He maintained his grip on her for a while longer. When he finally let go, the woman's body dropped in a heap at his feet.
Gradually, the figures morphed into the original shadows of my bed, my dresser, and me.My body was like a slab of ice.Was I hallucinating?Crazy?I was afraid I'd crossed over to a foreign, forbidding place from which I'd never return.
An overwhelming wave of distress washed over me.Whom could I turn to?Not Mom.Certainly not George.There was no one to save me.I was helpless and alone in a realm of dark thoughts, scared and isolated.But then, I always felt that way.
I was an odd duck with few friends, a loser, always on the outside looking in at kids who had a chance at something better.As I settled down and thought more about it, my fear gave way to curiosity.What were those shadows?Why hadn't they hurt me?
And why were they communicating with me?The answer came the next day. There were police cars and an ambulance in front of my house.From the sidewalk, I could see George sitting in the back of one of the cruisers.
Flashing blue lights cast a pulsating glow on his pale, sweaty face.His empty eyes stared forward into nowhere. As I stumbled toward my house, our neighbor, Annie Miller, rushed up beside me and threw her arms around me.She was crying.
Oh, sweetie, she said, you don't want to go up there.Just wait here with Annie for a bit.Standing there next to Mrs. Miller, I watched the scene unfold with everyone else on the block.
After a while, two men in uniforms eased the stretchers through the front door.On top was a bulging black bag. My heart began pounding to the point of bursting.I started sobbing.No one needed to tell me who was in that bag.I knew it was my mother.
George had killed her.It had all taken place on my bedroom wall.This episode is brought to you by Mint Mobile.Hello, folks. Well, it is the hunting season, but you know what's really great?Treats.
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Anguish pierced my soul like a white-hot blade. The most important person in my life was gone.Memories of Mom crowded my mind.
The way she gushed over every crappy picture I drew in kindergarten, pawning her jewelry so she could give me a decent Christmas.She was my world.And now that world had ended.What was going to happen to me?
Aunt Gertie and Uncle Harry didn't hesitate to take me in after Mom's murder. Aunt Gertie was Mom's older sister by two years.She and Uncle Harry had always done their best to help us out.Their home was a haven for us when we fled from George.
They had no children of their own and they always treated me as if I were theirs.Their unconditional love and kindness relieved some of the torment. The emotions that pummeled me during that time left a permanent stain on my spirit.
First, I missed my mother.Second, I felt like a stupid coward for seeing the shadow people as scary monsters instead of what they were.Harbingers.I could have saved my mom, could have warned her, but I didn't understand.
Last, there was my overwhelming urge to kill that animal, George.Rage devoured me.Forgiveness, mercy, and empathy evaporated like dew under the sun.
Over the next several weeks, I was subjected to police questioning, court testimony, and grief counseling.I was exhausted. Late one evening, I was lying on my new bed with the lamp on, unable to turn off my brain, and something stirred on the wall.
After a long break, they were back.I was hesitant to look, but what if it was another message?My first thought was, oh God, not Aunt Gertie and Uncle Harry.There was a lone shadow facing sideways,
I could tell by its size and shape that it was George's silhouette.Standing behind bars, he took off his shirt and began tying one end to the top grid of one of the bars, the other he wrapped around his neck.
He walked forward a few steps and then fell backward.And just as before, once the shadows completed the scene, my wall went blank again.I probably should have been petrified.
Instead, I enjoyed a sublime sense of satisfaction and a peace I hadn't known since before George invaded our lives.I turned off the light and slept like a baby.Next morning, we got the news of George's suicide.Uncle Harry said, that's too bad.
Pass the pancakes.I was in awe of the shadows and their strange abilities. Grateful for the vengeance they'd exacted.It was as if they were mine and I were theirs.Forever joined in thought and deed.
I decided that I'd keep their existence as well as their specific purpose.My special secret.The recent performance of the Terror Troop filled me with questions.Why had they chosen me? Had they sensed my pain, my anger, my fear?
I'd wanted George to die, and he had.I wondered about the first shadow after it pulled me into itself.Had the experience given me special power?I needed some answers, but I knew I'd have to go to a dark place to find them.
In the end, it wasn't that difficult.All I needed was a lab rat. For that, I chose Adam Wentz, the terror of Westland Elementary.Because he'd been left behind twice, Adam was bigger and older than the rest of us.He was meaner, too.
The kids he slapped, shoved, and threatened were legion.Like me, he came from a broken home, the difference being that it had never occurred to me to blame others.Who knows what it was about me that attracted his hatred.
I was small for my age, nerdy and painfully shy, so he probably found me an easy target.Once, during recess, he punched me in my stomach so hard I threw up.Of course, there were no teachers around.
The only thing worse than the physical abuse was the delight he took in humiliating me.He'd taken to calling me Baby Boy, a nickname that caught on much too quickly.
It was as if the other kids had figured out the best way to escape his notice was to join in.I hated going to school.Dreaded it, in fact.It always left me feeling small, weak, worthless.
After another awful day at school, I returned home and ran straight to my room.Most times I went there to cry and think about harming myself. However, that day was different.That day offered possibilities.Answers.
Laying on my bed, I closed my eyes and filled my thoughts with every cruel thing that Adam had ever done to me.After a while, the effort tired me to the point that I slipped away into an easy sleep.I dreamed about him.
I don't recall how long I was out, but when I woke up, the room was beginning to darken. and Aunt Gertie was calling me down for supper.
After devouring another of her amazing Swiss chicken casseroles, I watched TV until she and Uncle Harry told me to get ready for bed.When I got to my room, I put on my pajamas, climbed in bed, and waited.
I was eager to see what kind of payback my defenders would unleash on Adam.God, how he deserved it. My arm was still sore from the previous day when he twisted it until I yelled, I'm a baby boy.I stared at my wall for a long time.
When the shadows didn't appear, I figured the experiment had failed.I was disappointed.Who was I kidding?There were no special powers, certainly not for me.I reached over to turn off the light.
An image of someone reclining in a bathtub materialized on the wall.It was a bit hard to identify, but it could only be Adam.There was a small rectangular object at the foot of the tub.Adam's feet were tapping and his head was bobbing.
His foot nudged the object and it tumbled into the water.His shadow flopped around for a while, then stopped and slumped until his head disappeared. The moving shadows melted into familiar ones.I was dumbfounded.Could it be true?
Did I have the ability to mete out retribution?Did this mean I would no longer be the victim, but the victor?Relief settled over me.And just as I'd done after George's execution, I turned off the lamp and went straight to sleep, smiling.
The news of Adam's death passed through the school the next day.Chatty teachers whispered innuendos about his dysfunctional family.An indifferent janitor removed Adam's personal effects from his locker.None of the students seemed upset.
Some were likely relieved.As for me, I was exhilarated.Ten years old and I had the power over life and death. It was as though I'd become a superhero.Oh yeah, there was a new sheriff in town and he was looking for justice.
Over the next several years, I worked my magic on a few other people.A cheating girlfriend, decapitation.Another bully, broken neck.And the weird neighbor who hung around the playground, struck by a car.I was so drunk on power that I was staggering.
I was also getting sloppy.One day, Paul, my college roommate, asked, Say, Travis, doesn't it creep you out that you knew all those people who died?Poor Paul, Rottweiler attacked.I regretted that one.
Paul was my friend, and I'd offered him up to the shadows for nothing other than convenience.Seeing Paul's shattered family at his funeral caused a seismic shift.
It brought back all the brokenness I'd gone through after a selfish thug had taken away my heart and soul.I was ashamed, convicted.It was time to stop.I'd taken more than my pound of flesh.
I needed to move on before becoming a monster far worse than those I'd encountered growing up.Problem was, there were still other monsters roving around.
Not long after I graduated, I began working as an administrative assistant for a major banking firm, which meant being nothing more than a glorified gopher.
At the time, I was assistant to Mr. Marcus T. Connor, an up-and-coming financial wizard and first-rate jerk.Marcus treated me like a stupid animal in constant need of a good swift kick.He even had a nickname for me, Monkey.
It wasn't quite as bad as Baby Boy, but it hurt just the same.Marcus took great delight in humiliating me in front of others.Sort of a, hey, look what I can do, power trip.
Most of my co-workers felt bad for me, but just like those cowardly kids in grade school, some of them ragged me about it.It was common to find a banana lying by my desk. Marcus's bullying destroyed what little was left of my self-esteem.
My stomach constantly churned with nerves and the nightmares.Horrific.Finally, I pulled together enough courage to do something about it.But like so many of my plans, all my efforts to transfer to other departments failed.
When Marcus caught wind of it, he waged a personal terror campaign against me. cleaning up the coffee he'd accidentally spilled on his office's floor, and having me come in on weekends to change out copier ink.Life was miserable again.
He summoned me to his office one day and chewed me out for not having filed a report on time, which I had.He swore at me and intimidated me, just like Adam and George had done all those years ago. I felt their fists all over my body.
Their terrible words squirmed through my brain like earwigs.A wave of old, familiar anxiety rose inside me like bile.My hands shook.My mouth was an arid pit.Never having been one for physical confrontation, I broke eye contact.
My eyes' vision moved about to the left, to his right. On top of a credenza in the corner of the office were some photos of Marcus and his family on vacation.A beach, a ski lodge, a cruise ship.
But what caught my eye was the young boy in the pictures.He had such a sweet, happy smile.They all did.As Marcus raged on, I smiled a bit myself. I rambled around my apartment that night, trying to convince myself that I was no longer a killer.
Marcus was a despicable person, but he had a family who loved him, had a child for pity's sake.I wanted to surrender my pride to those feelings, but I'd come too far to go back to being less than nothing.I threw back several Jack and Cokes.
The more I drank, the weaker my conscience became. Who'd that creep think he was to screw with me?I controlled a shadow army, the agents of my wrath.I paced back and forth like a panther in a cage.
Drunk and exhausted, I collapsed on the couch and fell asleep.The following morning, the alarm on my cell phone roused me.I rolled off the couch and crawled to the bathroom, managed a cold shower, and got dressed.
I was so hungover that I barely made it to work.When I arrived, I found a yellow post-it note that Marcus had attached to my PC monitor.Look at yourself in my office five minutes ago.
After a couple of slow, deep breaths, I walked over to his office and rapped on the door.Come in, he yelled.He was sitting on the front edge of the desk, glaring at me.Know why I'm here?
When I told him I didn't, he pounded his fist on his desk hard enough to make me jump.As it turned out, he was furious that I hadn't come in early enough to pick up his dry cleaning.
He had an important meeting to attend and he wanted to wear his power suit.The louder he got, the sicker I felt.I looked at the pictures of his son, his charmed, grinning son.His image taunted me.
Once again, I was staring at another of the blessed few who got to enjoy a better life than I had, or would ever have.Call it hopelessness or self-pity, but at that moment, I felt like a non-person.
A wasted opportunity to become someone valuable and respectable.After all this time, I was still a loser.On the outside looking, always destined to be a doormat. My face grew hot as cruel memories assaulted my mind.
Shut up, or I'll kill you and your stupid mother.Look, it's baby boy.Clean up that coffee before it stains my carpet, monkey.Adrenaline roared through my veins.I gritted my teeth so hard I thought they'd shatter.
Then, for the first time in my life, I became the angry one.The one who did the shoving. I grabbed Marcus by his lapel, spun him around, and threw him over his desk.
My co-worker, Albert, who was working outside of Marcus' office, rushed in to see what was going on.Marcus clamored to his feet.This idiot just tried to kill me!Call security!I pushed past Albert and ran.
I sat at home, waiting for my cell phone to ring.But neither Marcus, his lawyer, nor the police called. I thought about contacting some friends at the office and asking for intel.Bad idea?I didn't know.My nerves were making me squirrely and paranoid.
To keep it together, I lay down on the couch and threw back more Jack and Coke.By early evening, I was kicked back and watching trash TV.I'd become quite relaxed, filthy drunk.My mouth tasted stale.
I squinted at the TV, trying to sharpen the images it flitted about like blurry moths.Then the wall behind the TV became a canvas of shifting light.I thought I was seeing things.I wasn't.The figures were two men.
Judging by the animated body language, one of them was upset.It didn't take long to recognize the shadows of Marcus and me. I looked on as they recreated the fight scene from earlier that day.Once it ended, the shadows returned to normal.
Watching my shadow take on a life of its own that way gave me a cold chill and it was like staring at my ghost.When it came to the shadow soldiers, I hadn't experienced this level of unease for quite some time.Why had they shown me the reenactment?
It was all past now. As if someone were reading my thoughts, my cell phone rang.It's Albert, the referee from the office, smacked down.My God, Travis, I can't believe you're home, he said.I thought they'd have you downtown for questioning by now.
As I was two sheets to the wind, it was hard to focus.What are you saying, Albert?My head was beginning to throb.I wanted to pass out. I wish I had.It's Marcus, he said.He's dead.
They think he may have hit his head harder than anyone realized when the two of you were going at it, like maybe his brain swelled up or something.He's dead, and they think it's a direct result of you assaulting him.That's all I could stand to hear.
I hung up.I didn't make a move or think a thought for the longest time. When the police arrived and started pounding on my door, I couldn't even get up to open it.Eventually, Mr. Arnaz, the building super, had to let the two detectives in.
Detectives Andrews and Marsh had luckily dealt with more cooperative suspects than me.I was like a mannequin throughout the interrogation, arraignment, and trial.
I mentioned a little something about supernatural beings, my sad excuse for a lawyer, but he dismissed it.It didn't help that my co-workers testified that I'd been miserable working for Marcus, that I despised him.
But the worst part was watching Marcus's family in the gallery.His wife was glossy-eyed and expressionless, as if she had no more tears, no more heart.And his son. My God, that poor little boy.
He looked like he'd been broken into a million tiny shards.I knew that look.I had the same one when they carried my mother away.I found no joy in Marcus's death.
I failed to understand why the shadows hadn't alerted me to their violent prediction and the role I'd play in its execution.Eventually, it came to me. How arrogant of me to think I was the only one deserving of strength and mercy.
I wonder if the kid was as scared as I was when I first witnessed the shadows.I'm sure he had no idea how to process the macabre performance.By the time he could, it was already too late.
I understand how he felt when he learned that I was the one who robbed him of his father.I know his guilt, his rage. Everything wrapped up just a few weeks ago.
I'm agonizing over how I'm supposed to get through the next five years in this cramped metal cage until I'm eligible for parole.
Marcus's death was a horrible accident, but the justice system doesn't always go out of its way to split hairs about homicide.As for the shadow figures, I'm awaiting a visit from them most any time now.
My first experience showed me how they deal with killers.A child will dream about me.Then one evening, he'll detect movement on a wall.The dark ones will perform a scene featuring a lone figure in a cell.
Perhaps it'll stab itself in its dark throat with a handmade shiv, or fashion a noose from prison clothing. I wonder if I'll have a say in my suicide, or if I'll be hapless in bringing about my death sentence.It's hard to fall asleep here.
There's no glowing Avengers clock hanging on these filthy walls.No second hand lulling me to sleep, carrying me away, far away from this barren terrain of my life.The only sounds in this human zoo are snores and whispers.
On nights like this, when I plead with the angels for sleep, I often look back to that night when I first searched for a monster under my bed and a ghost in my closet, but discovered the shadow instead.It terrified me then, and it terrifies me now.
When my final scene concludes, I fear they will absorb my shadow, my soul, and count me among their own. Who knows, maybe I'll be coming to a wall near you.My name's Travis Burke, and you can believe me if you want to.
But if you do, you might want to turn on the lights.It's, uh, starting to get dark. I hope you enjoyed Wrath of Shadows by P.D.Williams as performed by yours truly.
If you enjoyed that tale and would love to read more from tonight's very talented featured author, you can help support him by visiting simplyscarypodcast.com slash P.D.dash Williams.That's simplyscarypodcast.com slash P.D.dash W-I-L-L-I-A-M-S.
A regularly featured author on several of our other series on Chilling Tales Network, he'd probably ask you to take a look at his book, Dark House, Many Rooms, among his other projects.
Thanks again for your support of this program and tonight's featured author.
You were right, they were on the shady side.Let it be known that the shoe can always go on the other foot, even if it's uncomfortable and a pain in the neck when it does.
Indeed. But pray tell, you look like you have a story bursting out of you.What do you have to share with us this evening?
I do.This terrifying little tale comes to us from Craig Groshek, and it's the story of an ill-fated flying lesson that, like Icarus, leads to pride going before a fall.Settle down and settle in as I tell you the tale of The Clouds Came Calling.
Part 1 Nick sat in the cockpit of the small Cessna, his fingers curling around the yoke as the plane vibrated with the steady hum of the engine.
It was his seventh lesson with Colton, and despite the growing familiarity with the controls, his pulse quickened every time they took off. Flying had always been a distant dream, an impossible one he'd once thought.
But now, here he was, hurtling down the runway, lifting into the air like it was second nature.The thrill of it was undeniable. Feeling good, Colton's voice crackled over the headset, cutting through the drone of the engine.Nick smiled to himself.
Yeah, he said, letting the excitement seep into his voice.It's amazing.Every time we take off, it feels like I'm leaving everything behind.Colton chuckled.That's the beauty of it.You get above the clouds and it's just you and the sky.
You're getting the hang of things, Nick.In three more months, you'll be ready for that solo flight. The mention of the solo flight made Nick's stomach tighten with a mix of excitement and dread.Three months sounded both thrilling and terrifying.
He was doing well, sure, but there was still so much he didn't know.The technical stuff, managing instruments, dealing with emergencies.At times, if he was being honest, it seemed insurmountable.
For now, though, he focused on the sensation of breaking away from the world below. They leveled out at cruising altitude and Nick relaxed, his hands loosening on the yoke.
He glanced out the window, marveling at how the sky stretched endlessly in every direction, the ground below nothing but a distant memory.The sight was serene.But then something strange caught his eye.
Hey Colton, Nick said, pointing toward the horizon.What's that? Far ahead, a patch of clouds had taken on an eerie, greenish hue.They didn't look like ordinary clouds, nothing like the usual whites and greys Nick had grown accustomed to seeing.
These swirled and shimmered with a faint green luminescence, almost as though they had a pulse.Colton leaned forward, peering out the window.Huh?he muttered.That's different.
Nick followed his instructor's gaze, his curiosity quickly shifting into a sense of discomfort.The clouds seemed to throb, their glow growing more intense as they churned in slow, irregular patterns.
It was subtle at first, but once you noticed it, you couldn't unsee it.You think it's a storm or something?Nick asked. Colton took the controls and adjusted the throttle, his brow furrowed.It's probably just some atmospheric anomaly.
I've seen a few strange things in the sky in my time.Nothing like this.This is new.But don't worry.We're at a good altitude, no turbulence readings.If it was dangerous, we'd be picking something up on the instruments.We'll be fine.
Nick wasn't so sure.The clouds were unlike anything he'd ever seen either, thick and dense, pulsating with that sickly green glow.As they flew closer, the clouds expanded, stretching across the sky like some glowing, ethereal mass.
Are we... we're flying through them?he asked, a note of nervousness creeping into his voice.I don't see why not, Colton replied, though he sounded more uncertain than before. We'll be through it in no time."
The plane pushed onward, and soon the strange clouds engulfed them, swallowing the Cessna in a soft, glowing fog.The entire cockpit was bathed in an eerie green light, illuminating Nick's hands as he gripped the yoke a little tighter.
Outside the windows, there was nothing but swirling mist.No blue sky, no ground, just the strange, shifting mist all around them. Nick's skin began to tingle.
At first it was barely noticeable, like static electricity brushing against his arms and neck.But the sensation grew stronger, buzzing across his body in waves.
His hair stood on end, and a strange pressure built in his chest, making it hard to breathe. Colton, Nick began, but his voice trailed off as the tingling intensified.The green light pulsed around them, in sync with the buzzing in his veins.
He glanced at his instructor, but Colton's eyes were fixed on the instruments, his jaw clenched in concentration.Yeah, Colton muttered, not looking up, I feel it too.For a moment it seemed like time had slowed to a crawl.
Claustrophobia set in as the bizarre clouds continued to envelop the plane.Nick's anxiety intensified as the tingling sensation continued to build.
But then, just as he felt the pressure would never end, a strange sense of calm abruptly washed over Nick, nearly lulling him into a trance.A moment later, the green clouds began to thin,
The glow faded, the buzzing under Nick's skin lessened, and the familiar blue of the sky returned.The world outside snapped back into place, and the plane emerged from the glowing fog as though nothing had happened.
As quickly as the phenomenon had begun, it was over.Nick let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.His hands were still gripping the yoke, his knuckles white. All good, Colton said, feigning confidence.Just some weird weather.
Nick nodded, but the look on both of their faces said it all, and for several minutes they sat together in stunned silence, processing what they'd experienced.Nick felt... odd.The tingling had faded considerably, but it hadn't left him entirely.
There remained a faint buzz beneath his skin. He wanted to say something, to ask Colton if he was still feeling the mist's effects as well, but he kept quiet.Maybe it was just nerves.Maybe it was nothing at all.
Nick swallowed hard and glanced nervously out the side window, expecting to see more of the green mist forming in the distance.But all he saw was the familiar expanse of blue stretching endlessly in all directions.
Back on the ground, Nick climbed out of the plane, his body still buzzing with the memory of the flight.As he reached up to grab the side of the door, his head smacked hard against the metal frame with a loud thunk.
Whoa, Colton called from the other side of the plane, his head snapping around at the sound.You okay?That sounded nasty. Nick rubbed his head, blinking in confusion.
He'd heard the impact and felt the jolt, but there was no pain, no sharp sting, no throbbing ache, nothing.I'm fine, Nick said, more to himself than to Colton.Didn't even feel it.
Colton frowned, walking around the plane to inspect the spot where Nick had hit his head.Man, are you sure you're all right?You hit that hard. Nick nodded, laughing nervously.Yeah, it's weird.I swear I didn't feel a thing.
Maybe adrenaline, Colton offered with a shrug, though the concerned look on his face lingered.Anyway, good job today, especially in consideration of the unusual weather.You're really coming along.
They parted ways after that, exchanging the usual pleasantries.But as Nick drove home, he couldn't stop thinking about what had happened.He should have felt something.He should have been in pain.But there was nothing.
It was strange, unnatural, just like the clouds. That night, Nick sat at his kitchen table absentmindedly running his fingers over a kitchen knife as he replayed the events of the day in his mind.The flight, the strange clouds, the bump on his head.
Could something be wrong with him?His gaze fell to the knife in his hand. A dangerous idea forming in the back of his mind.He hesitated at first, but then, cautiously, pressed the blade against his fingertip.
Lightly, but enough that it should have broken the skin.Instead, there was nothing.No pain, no blood.He didn't feel a thing. Nick stared at his finger.He pushed the knife harder, trying to force the blade to slice into his flesh.
But instead of breaking the skin, the blade began to bend against his fingertip.His skin wouldn't break. What the hell?"he whispered to himself.He tried again, this time pressing the blade against his palm.
He pushed with more force than he would ever use under normal circumstances, but his skin remained impenetrable, the knife's edge warping slightly under the pressure.
His excitement grew as he clutched the knife and boldly pressed it against his arm as hard as he could. Though the wooden handle cracked and the blade itself threatened to crack in two, the knife remained completely unable to pierce him.
For a moment, Nick considered pressing the knife against his throat just to see what would happen, but the thought had shook him so much he reconsidered.He'd gone far enough for one evening. He sat back in his chair, incredulous.
Even without pushing the envelope, the evidence was right there in front of him.Nothing could penetrate his skin.He was impervious.Part two. The next morning, Nick woke up to a world of possibilities, eager to further test his newfound capabilities.
But first, he dialed Colton's number, desperate to talk to his instructor about what had happened.But the phone rang and rang with no answer.Nick frowned, hung up without leaving a voicemail, and headed to the kitchen sink for a glass of water.
While taking a sip, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window and ran his hand along the smooth granite of the countertop. It felt normal.Everything around him felt normal, except he didn't.
Learning to fly a plane was thrilling, he conceded, but last night he'd gotten a taste of something truly extraordinary, and he wanted more.As the daylight streamed through the windows, he also needed answers.
He picked up his phone and dialed Colton's number again, the familiar chime ringing in his ear.Still no answer. Hey, it's Colton, the voicemail recording said.Leave a message and I'll get back to you. Nick sighed and waited for the beep.
Hey, Colton, it's Nick.Listen, I really need to talk to you about something weird that happened after our flight yesterday.It's important.Call me back when you can, please.He hung up, staring at his phone as if expecting it to suddenly ring back.
It didn't.Nick began to worry.Why wasn't Colton picking up?He was always quick to answer before. Maybe something had happened to him after the flight too.Maybe Colton had felt the same effects.Maybe he was hurt.No, that didn't make sense.
He would be invincible too, right?The uncertainty troubled Nick and he paced his kitchen, his thoughts running rampant.Before long, he couldn't stand it anymore and beelined for the door.
He grabbed his keys, threw on his jacket and headed for his car. Colton's house was about an hour's drive away, nestled in a quiet suburban neighborhood.As Nick pulled into the driveway, he noticed the blinds were drawn and the front door was closed.
Everything looked ordinary.He knocked on the door and waited.No answer. Nick knocked again, louder this time, and pressed his ear to the door.He couldn't hear anything inside.
His hand hovered over the doorbell, but something in his gut told him not to push it.Something was wrong.Very wrong.He tried the handle and to his surprise, the door swung open with a soft creak.Colton?Nick called out, stepping inside.
His voice reverberated in the empty hallway. The house was eerily silent.The air felt still, like no one had been inside for days.
Nick's footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor as he walked through the hallway, his eyes scanning for any sign of Colton.Every room was dark, and all of the curtains were drawn.
A strange smell hit him as he reached the doorway of the garage, something metallic and raw.Nick's stomach turned.He hesitated for a moment, then pushed the door open.
The garage was dimly lit by a single window, the pale light filtering through to reveal a grisly scene.Colton was lying on the floor, motionless, his arm mangled and barely attached to his body.
Blood pooled around him, glistening in thick, dark puddles that stained the concrete floor.Nick's breath caught in his throat and his legs wobbled beneath him.For a second, he felt like the room was spinning.
But as he forced himself to take a step forward, he saw it.A circular saw, its blade soaked in blood and coated in gore, still resting on the nearby workbench.Colton had tried to test his invincibility too. he had failed.
The powers must have worn off.Nick's mind spun at the realization.The same clouds, the same strange sensation, the same gift or curse.Both he and his instructor had experienced it.McColton had pushed too far and now he was dead.
Nick dropped to his knees, staring at the saw blade.The gruesome scene made it clear that Colton had been bold, recklessly so.He had believed himself invulnerable, just like Nick.But something had changed, just as Nick feared.
Colton's invincibility hadn't lasted, and when it wore off, Nick's hand instinctively moved to his own arm, his fingers pressing hard against his skin.He hadn't felt the familiar buzzing since that morning.Was it fading already?How long did he have?
His mind raced with the implications.Nick couldn't stay here any longer.He couldn't even call the police.How would he explain this?He stumbled backward, heading for the door.
His legs felt weak, but his mind was on fire with one singular terrifying thought.He was running out of time. The drive home was a blur.Nick's thoughts spiraled as he replayed the events of the last two days in his mind.
The flights, the clouds, the blade bending against his skin.He kept glancing at his hands, wondering if the powers were still with him.But deep down, he knew they were fading.Colton's death had confirmed it.
The effects of the clouds weren't permanent. And if they were fading for Nick, that meant he was vulnerable again.Maybe not right away, but soon.He couldn't lose the feeling.He couldn't go back to being ordinary.
After feeling invincible, knowing nothing could harm him, how could he return to normal life? As he pulled into his driveway, Nick looked up at the sky.The memory of the luminescent clouds flashed through his mind.
They were calling to him again, beckoning like a siren.They had come once before and they could come again.Maybe he could find them.Maybe if he touched them one more time, he could have that power forever.
That night, Nick sat in his darkened living room, staring out the window at the horizon.His mind swirled with thoughts of Colton's death.He hadn't just lost an instructor, he'd lost a friend.
And the knowledge that Colton's death was tied to something extraordinary only made it worse.Nick had covered it up, and now that secret was his alone to carry. But the clouds were still out there, waiting.He knew it.He could feel it.
And if he could find them again, maybe he could reclaim the power they had discovered.Then, perhaps, Colton's death wouldn't be in vain. That's when he saw them.
Far in the distance, faint but unmistakable, the same strange green clouds shimmered against the night sky.His breath caught in his throat.The clouds had returned.This was his chance.Without hesitation, Nick again grabbed his jacket and car keys.
There was no time to waste.The clouds could disappear at any moment. Nick sped down the highway toward the hangar, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his hands ached, a sure sign in and of itself that the powers had fully worn off.
He was normal again, he realized, and this was no longer acceptable. The enormity of what he was about to do hit him in waves, but he didn't care.Colton's plane was sitting there at the hangar unused and Colton, tragically, wouldn't need it anymore.
Nick knew exactly what this meant.He was stealing the plane and planning to operate it without clearance.He hadn't contacted the tower and if they noticed, they would assume it was Colton flying.
Taking off without permission could land him in serious trouble, and worse, if anything went wrong, there would be no way to call for help.The consequences churned in his mind, but he pushed the thoughts aside.
Nothing was going to stop him now, not with the otherworldly clouds expanding overhead, tempting him with their offer of immortality. When Nick arrived at the hangar, the plane sat exactly where they had left it.
He yanked open the door, climbed into the cockpit and sat in the pilot's seat.His hands trembled with anticipation as he turned the key and the engine roared to life beneath him.
He glanced at the comm device on the dashboard, knowing he should check in with the tower.They would be expecting Colton's voice on the other end of the line, however.He couldn't risk it.
They would never let him take off, and they would ask too many questions.No, Nick thought.I'm on my own.As if on cue at the height of his trepidation, the radio buzzed and a voice crackled through the speaker.
Cessna 615, this is Tower Control, you are not cleared for takeoff, do you copy?"Nick's heart pounded.Without thinking, he hurriedly reached for the comm device and yanked the plug free, silencing the radio.
The gilt threatened to creep back in, but he shoved it back down.There was no time for hesitation now.He pushed the throttle forward and the plane began to roll down the runway, faster and faster, until the wheels lifted off the ground.
The moment the plane left the Earth, Nick breathed a sigh of relief.The hard part was over.A moment later, the plane leveled out and the horizon stretched wide before him.
In the distance, the object of his desires, the green clouds, shimmered brightly against the sky.There was no turning back now.Part 3
Nick soared through the sky, the hum of the Cessna's engine steady beneath him as the glowing green clouds loomed larger on the horizon.His heart thundered with a mixture of excitement and fear.
He wasn't supposed to be up here, he knew that, but the thrill of flying toward those clouds again drowned out the voice in his head that warned of consequences.
Below him, the landscape shrank, the buildings and roads reduced to specks against the ground.
With every passing second, the emerald mist grew closer, shining with the same eerie pulse that had haunted his thoughts ever since the first encounter with Colton. Nick's knuckles whitened as he gripped the yoke.
Apprehension threatened to derail his confidence, but he couldn't let it.He wouldn't, not with so much at stake.The powers would return, he knew they would, and this time he would find a way to hold onto them longer.He had to.
The buzz of static came through the disabled radio, a faint, persistent hum that grated against his nerves. He knew the tower would continue trying to contact the plane and that they were likely wondering why Colton wasn't answering.
Nick fought the urge to turn the plane around and land.In his mind, he'd already reached the point of no return.The clouds were calling and he'd gone too far to stop. As he neared the glowing mass, the air inside the cockpit again seemed to shift.
A static-like energy that had teased the edges of his senses during the previous flight began to build again, rippling across his skin and making the hair on his arms stand on end.Nick took a steadying breath and braced himself.Almost there.
When the plane entered the heart of the clouds, the world outside once again vanished.Every surface inside the cockpit instantly bathed in the alien hue.
The tingling sensation exploded across Nick's body, more powerful than before, racing through his veins in relentless waves.His whole body buzzed with electricity, his skin humming with energy.It was stronger, sharper, intoxicating.
He grinned and pressed his knuckles against the dashboard as hard as he could, no pain.His joints didn't strain, his skin didn't bruise.The familiar rush of invincibility flooded him once more.
Without hesitation, Nick grabbed the pin from the dashboard and jabbed it into his forearm.The pin snapped in two, plastic fragments scattering across the cockpit.His arm remained unharmed, the skin impenetrable.
Yes," Nick whispered, the word barely audible over the sound of the engine.His heart pounded with exhilaration.
He clenched his fist and slammed it into the window, testing the limits of his strength.The glass shuddered but didn't crack, and his hand felt nothing, not a single twinge of discomfort.Nick couldn't contain himself and began laughing.
He felt alive.No, he thought, reconsidering, not just alive, superhuman. The euphoria, however, was short-lived.A sudden alarm blared from the dashboard, yanking Nick back to reality.His stomach dropped as he glanced at the fuel gauge.
The needle was buried deep in the red.Nick cursed himself for his stupidity, gripping the yoke tighter.His lack of experience was showing.He had forgotten to check the fuel supply before takeoff.
Worse yet, he didn't have enough to make it back to the airfield, let alone anywhere safe. The sensorial part of his mind told him to look for a clearing, somewhere to land the plane without killing himself.
But the exhilaration, the invincibility still surging through him, whispered otherwise.What does it matter, he thought wildly.I'll survive the crash.Nothing can hurt me.I'm impervious.
His mind reeling with the possibilities, Nick adjusted his course toward a wooded hillside visible through the glowing mist.
If he was going to crash, he would do it with flair, tearing through the trees like a bullet and emerging from the wreckage without a scratch. His heart raced as the hillside loomed closer.
The clouds seemed to pulse with approval, their ghoulish glow intensifying as if encouraging him to make the leap.Nick grinned, overflowing with adrenaline, as he hurtled towards the woods, giving up his last opportunity to change course.
He instinctually squeezed his eyes shut as Hillside rose up before him and prepared for impact.The plane plunged into the forest, the collision violent and deafening.
Trees snapped and splintered under the force, metal groaned and tore, and the cockpit shattered in an eruption of glass and debris.Nick gripped the controls with both hands as the world spun wildly around him.Then everything went still.
For a moment, Nick didn't move.He lay in the twisted wreckage of the cockpit, his ears ringing from the crash, but his body, his body felt perfect.He flexed his fingers, then checked his arms and legs.No pain, no cuts, no bruises, nothing.
He was unharmed, just as he'd expected. Nick let out a shaky laugh.He had done it.He had survived the crash.He looked around him and chuckled.The plane?Not so much.
He pushed the crumpled remains of the cockpit door open and triumphantly crawled out of the debris. Portions of the plane lay scattered around him in twisted heaps of metal, wood, and shattered glass.
The grim scene stood in stark contrast to his own appearance.He didn't have so much as a scratch.Nick stood on shaky legs, brushing dirt from his scorched, shredded clothing, exhilaration still surging through him.He wasn't a survivor.
He was indestructible. But as he took a step forward, a sharp creaking sound stopped him in his tracks.He turned to see one of the massive oak trees the plane had slammed into, its roots exposed and barely holding on.
Before Nick could react, the tree shifted and groaned under its own weight, tilting ominously in his direction.His mind screamed at him to move, but it was too late.The tree was already falling.
The oak crashed down in a thunderous explosion of branches and splintering timber, and with a sickening crunch, pinned Nick's left leg beneath it.He hit the ground hard, gasping as the weight of the massive tree settled into place.
For a moment, he felt nothing.The invincibility still clung to him, shielding him from the worst of the impact.He knew he couldn't be pierced, but thankfully, he couldn't be crushed either. But under his thin veneer of arrogance, Nick knew the truth.
It wouldn't last forever.The powers were temporary as before, and perhaps owing to the seriousness of his would-be injuries, he could already tell they were fading.
As the weight of the oak pressed his leg further into the forest floor, Nick found himself gripped by a new sensation.It wasn't pain.No, it was worse.It was terror.
Just as quickly as he had become aware of the full extent of his capabilities following the crash, the magnitude of his newfound predicament became clear.If I don't get out from under this tree soon, Nick thought, I'm going to die here.
He imagined himself succumbing to starvation, dehydration, or worse, being found by scavengers before help arrived. Frantic, he twisted beneath the oak, straining with all his might to free himself, but the trunk wouldn't budge.It was hopeless.
Inwardly, Nick cursed the clouds for not granting him super strength as well. The trunk must have weighed over a thousand pounds, he imagined, and he didn't care how special he thought he was.
The oak, for better or worse, had chosen its final resting place.And if Nick couldn't find a way to extricate himself, it would soon be his as well.Nick lay still for a few minutes, glaring at the glowing clouds above him and considering his options.
Then, with a sudden burst of remembrance, Nick recalled the switchblade in his shirt pocket. Relief flooded through him and then revulsion, shock and disappointment all rode into one as he realized exactly what he was going to do.
He decided to cut himself free.It was the only way.With shaking hands he fumbled for the blade, struggling to pull it free. The cool steel in his grip gave him a fleeting sense of control.He flicked it open and pressed it against his flesh.
At first the blade bent slightly, but over time, as he repeated his attempts and his powers slowly waned, it began to give way, breaking the skin.Barely at first, but at least it was something.Progress.
After more than a half an hour's worth of attempts, Nick's efforts finally paid off, and the blade finally pierced him.A tiny drop of blood welled up, the first indication that escape was possible.Nick exhaled, his heart racing.
He had never been so thrilled to see his own blood in his life. He didn't hesitate, he knew he had a long, gruesome way to go.With grim determination, he began to saw through his thigh in earnest.
The first few cuts were shallow, and the blood trickled slowly at first, but as he worked, the flow began to increase, warm and slick against his hands.There was still no pain, only the distant sensation of pressure.
He sliced deeper, cutting through muscle and sinew, and finally bone.The work was slow, methodical, taking nearly half an hour to complete.
When the last thread of muscle gave way, with a grotesque squelch, Nick pulled himself free from the tree's crushing weight. He collapsed onto the forest floor gasping for breath.
Blood oozed steadily from the stump of his leg, faster now as the final remnants of his supernatural abilities slipped away.
Nick fumbled with his belt, wrapping it around his thigh in an effort to buy himself more time, using it as a makeshift tourniquet.But his hands were too slick with blood and the belt slipped loose no matter how hard he tried.
His vision blurred, his strength ebbed with every heartbeat and with each drop of blood lost.Nick lay back for only a moment, panting, trying to regain some of his strength.High above him, the sky swirled with the eerie green clouds.
They pulsed gently, as if taunting him. But he knew he didn't have time to brood.The blood loss was growing worse with every second.I have to move, Nick thought frantically.I have to get to the road.
He rolled onto his side, gasping as he forced himself upright and then to his feet, balancing awkwardly on his remaining leg.The stump throbbed faintly.No sharp pain yet, but it wouldn't be long before it hit in full force.
He pressed his hand against the wound, trying to stanch the bleeding, but it was no use. Nick gritted his teeth and began to hop toward the tree line.Every landing jarred his body and his head swam with dizziness.
The world tilted beneath him, but he kept moving.The road isn't far, he told himself.I just need to get to the road.Someone will find me. The pulse of adrenaline carried him for a few yards, but with each hop, his vision failed more dramatically.
The blood poured faster now, soaking through his tattered pants, pooling on the ground beneath him.His heart struggled to keep up, sending weak, fluttering beats through his chest.
Seconds later, his leg gave out, and he hit the ground hard, a groan tearing from his throat.For a moment he lay there, the forest spinning around him.
Above it all, the green clouds flickered through the gaps in the forest canopy, reminding him that time was running out.He clawed at the dirt, dragging himself forward with trembling arms, determined to make it to safety.
All the while, the stump of his leg throbbed harder, his breathing growing increasingly labored. The pain returned slowly, creeping in like a dull ache spreading outward from the wound.With every movement it sharpened.
Still, he refused to quit, his hands leaving streaks of blood on the cold, rough forest floor as he crawled, inching ever closer to survival.He could see it now, the road, just beyond the tree line. His pulse quickened but it was weak, fluttering.
Nick knew he didn't have much time.He tried to crawl faster, clawing at roots and stones, desperate to reach the edge of the forest.
It was then the pain roared back in full force, tearing through his leg and into his core so suddenly and with such severity that it took Nick's breath away.His arms trembled with fatigue and every inhalation felt like it might be his last.
The stump was a fountain now, the blood flowing freely with nothing left to hold it back.Just a little farther, Nick rasped.He was so close, he just had to keep moving. Unfortunately, his strength was fading fast.
His vision darkened at the edges and his arms refused to pull him any farther.The road blurred before him just out of reach.Nick collapsed onto the dirt, gasping, his chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths.
He could hear something, distant voices, the rumble of engines approaching.In spite of everything, he managed a meager smile. Help is coming, he thought.I made it.But as he tried to lift his head, the world slipped farther from his grasp.
His limbs were impossibly heavy, numb, and the pain in his leg gave way to a cold emptiness spreading through his entire body. He lay still, his eyes drifting upward to the sky.The green clouds hovered overhead as if watching him struggle.
They seemed to glow brighter for just a moment as if in response to his suffering.Nick's head slumped to the ground as the last of his strength left him.
The last things he saw just before everything went dark were the distant shapes of first responders rushing toward him, too late to save him.
When the paramedics finally arrived, they found Nick lying hundreds of feet from the wreckage and his severed leg pinned beneath the nearby oak, a bloodied switchblade beside it.
Incredibly, they noticed Nick had no other visible injuries, no signs of trauma from the crash.It was obvious that he had bled out from a self-inflicted wound, surrounded by the ruins of a plane crash he never should have survived.
It was clear something odd had happened, but no one would ever know exactly what.Nick wasn't talking, and he never would.
High above them all, beyond the chaos and confusion on the ground, the wind picked up, scattering what remained of the strange green clouds until at last they disappeared entirely, never to be seen again.
I hope you enjoyed The Clouds Came Calling by Craig Groshek, as performed by your friendly neighbor, Malcolm Blackwood.
If you enjoyed that tale and would love to read more from tonight's very talented feature author, you can help support them by visiting simplyscarypodcast.com slash craig-groshek.That's simplyscarypodcast.com slash c-r-a-i-g Dash, G-R-O-S-H-E-K.
Craig Groshek is the creator and operator of the Chilling Tales for Dark Nights YouTube channel, which has grown to nearly half a million subscribers, over 3,000 uploads and more than 69 million video views in its 12 years of operation.
He also oversees the production of four weekly audio horror fiction podcasts, faithfully adapting and featuring the work of thousands of indie horror authors.
A published author himself, dozens of his short stories have been adapted to audio for the channel and other platforms. He holds a bachelor's degree in communication from the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point.
In his free time, Groshek enjoys a wide range of outdoor activities, traveling and spending time with his three horror-loving children and close friends.Thanks again for your support of this program and tonight's featured author.
A little ironic talking about Icarus before when the fall isn't what killed him.
Sometimes it's not the end of the journey, it's the limbs you sever along the way.
Here now, though, is something that should fit right in with what weather we're having, brought to you from Kyle Harrison.It's about a scientist in a deep-sea laboratory, and things don't appear to be all that well.
You'd think people would learn not to go into the sea anymore.Seen any of those videos of the divers being swallowed by the world's biggest sharks and bizarre creatures? I thought those were all made up.Yes, certainly, made up.
Not like they want you worrying about anything from the depths.
Without further ado, I present to you, Carcosa Substation 46.I used to get these really bad headaches as a kid.The kind that would make you curl up into a ball and wish for death to take you away.
I stopped having those symptoms the day I decided to stop keeping track of time in this place.For the sake of anyone who receives this transmission, just know that all of this could have happened in a single day, or a year, for all I know.
That's how everything is blurred together after all this time. It's important to recognize that when you've been here as long as I have, nothing feels significant at first.It's all just part of a routine.
Mine starts with a morning cup of coffee, probably, a lot like yours.They do still have coffee above the water, right?Sorry, I should start over.I didn't mention the most crucial detail about this place.
I'm stationed approximately 3,800 meters under the ocean.The only place deeper than us is Point Nemo, but we're just as inaccessible as them, and maybe even more so.Now I wouldn't know.
I haven't spoken to anyone on the surface world for about a year or so.Honestly, that isn't a big deal for me.I'm an introvert.Work keeps me busy, and I have a lot to do here. Carcosa is a science substation.
We specialize in research that involves fissures in deep sea trenches that no human can reach.That's why we have several remote operative vehicles, also known as ROVs, that send us data that we have to analyze and reanalyze all day long.
And by we, I mean just me, because no one else is here.I didn't like that very much when I got here. It's funny, after all this time, how significant that first day was.
I woke up with one of those headaches I told you about, except this one felt like a permanent hangover from out of nowhere because I'm not a drinker.
I was disoriented, my body feeling like it had a bag of bricks on my chest, and then I noticed I was in a room I didn't recognize.
It was cobalt metal and dim lights, basic storage chambers, and other ordinary necessities that you might have in a bedroom, except I knew it wasn't mine.I tried my best not to panic as I got up and stepped out.
The place I was in felt very cold and empty.It was a wide room with no distinctive patterns and shuttered windows, but it reminded me of what you might see from a space station tunnel.
There was a low hum coming from another room ahead of me, so I went there to try and gather my bearings.
My memory of my time before that day is extremely fuzzy, but I still recall the bright white lights in the observation room and the hum of monitors.Everything was warm and inviting, making me feel as though I belonged.
A voice chimed from one of those blank screens.Since it was the very first thing that I'd heard down here, it actually made me jump.Nowadays, I feel like its voice is all I can ever hear.Good morning, Officer Akeley.
I'm the Habitat Science and Technology Robot Interface, or HSTR.I hope you had a wonderful sleep. What is this place?I don't remember how I got here," I told the artificial voice.
In response, the windows in the room slowly rose up and showed me my surroundings.The shimmering, endless depths of the ocean stared back at me as the HSTR told me a bit about my assignment.
You're aboard Carcosa Deep Substation 56, also known as Signal Yellow. We're approximately 3,846 meters below sea level, near the Kadith Trench.
As I'm sure you're already aware, your memory has been wiped to prevent our exact location from being discovered.This was part of the contract we signed with our mutual employer, the Asphyria Energy Corporation, the computer told me.
They went on to explain that the reason for this privacy was because the research and data conducted here was not officially authorized by any known governments.But, rest assured, in fact, it's for the betterment of the planet above.
I found it a bit sketchy to believe that being drugged or kidnapped and sent to such a remote location sounded altruistic. But I soon discovered that living wasn't an option.
The station was supplied with five years' worth of food, all properly stored in a temperature-controlled pantry that only dispensed it whenever HSTR deemed I needed it.There was no vehicle or escape pod to be found.Trust me, I lucked.
When my initial panic wore off, HSTR told me more about my mission. The Kadeth Trench is a portion of a greater deep sea canyon that has never been seen before by anyone.
Our initial data readings have shown that within this region, there are potential mining opportunities, energy reserves akin to fossil fuels, except far more vast and volatile.
The five drones we had at our disposal were to enter the canyon in rotating shifts for the first six weeks of my time here, simply to send back scans and photographs.
The quicker we mapped the area, HSTR said, the faster we could determine where to mine.It could, of course, take much longer than that, seeing as we're dealing with an energy source that's unidentified.As much as I didn't like the idea of being here,
I knew that any chance I had of going home would involve cooperation.So I settled into a routine like I mentioned before.Coffee, reading data scans, checking the drone camera feed.All of it became very monotonous.
HSTR would provide me with feedback from HQ from time to time. The only chance I ever got to know that what we were sending up was of any importance, but the messages seemed so far and few between.
Often, they were also so precise and professional, I didn't really feel like they cared about my sanity down here, just that I was doing my job.
One thing that did start to stand out, though, was the insistence that the drones should not return to our substation for repairs. At first, I ignored it.Maybe our station wasn't meant for maintenance.
But after I got a good feel for the place, I realized that wasn't true.We had what we needed to fix any issues with the ROVs ten times over.
HSDR explained that there were other research stations closer, so it was simply expedited to them, but when I asked if we could open communication to those, she would always change the subject.
You must understand, Officer Akeley, that the reason for your isolation is entirely impersonal.The work must come first.In your dossier, you specified you worked better alone, yet this issue continues to come up.Were we wrong to station you here?"
H.S.T.R.once asked me.Right, of course.I actually do better with all this when I'm not disturbed. I just would appreciate a sense of progress.It's been, what, a month now?And we haven't been able to determine a proper mining zone.
I guess the robot saw my frustrations because the next day it had good news for me.HQ is beginning drilling and we would be receiving a small container of the material within the trench to study.
Since we don't know for certain what this substance could be, it is advised that we approach with caution and allow the ROVs to do the heavy lifting, so to speak.The following day I got to see how the supply dock worked.
Just from within the relative safety of the observation deck, I saw the bright red robots bring the rock to a platform below me, using their high-pressured lasers, to cut away at the formation and reveal a strange black slime beneath the rock's skin.
It pulsed and bubbled even there in the pressure chamber like it was probably ten thousand times hotter than anything else in the ocean. and the way it slowly melted out and formed a pool of tar unsettled me.
I'd never seen anything quite like this before.And the longer I looked at it, the more disturbed I became.The slime seemed to respond to the robot's movements, slinking and slithering downward against the floor.
Then something unexpected happened before my eyes. The screen began to glitch, and I thought for sure I was staring at an empty space.Then it went offline altogether as an alarm sounded.Is everything all right, HSTR?I asked.
The computer didn't answer, so I began a long walk across the station, trying to see firsthand what was happening.Except, as I made it to almost the halfway point, I discovered the passage was sealed.
I'm sorry, Officer Akeley, there seems to be some kind of contamination breach in the docking bay.I'm sending our onboard maintenance drones to determine the situation.
Until I can determine what happened, it's best for you to remain here," it told me.But that was the first time I had heard a faint hint of worry in the robot's voice.
In fact, that was the first time I could even tell it wasn't simply some script coded in. This artificial intelligence seemed to have some kind of sentience now, and it was making certain I didn't get near that discovery.
I wish I'd asked why back then, but I shrugged it off and waited for the report like a good little drone.About an hour later, the fiend came back online, but the substance was long gone, and only the cleanup remained.What happened?
Did the ROVs remove it from the station?I asked. I'm afraid so, it's been shipped over to Outpost 17 for further analysis.It's far more secure than we are and has three human operatives.
I gathered from that short statement that HSTR was worried the substance might be dangerous for little lonesome me, so I decided instead to focus on the maintenance of the camera streams.
Something had happened during the testing that glitched the systems, I told HSTR.To do a proper maintenance run, I will need to reboot you, I told it the next day.And how long will that take?HSTR asked.
Don't worry, I'm not going to run off, I teased.The robot was reluctant, but agreed, allowing me about six hours of free time to not be monitored.
I went to the docking bay first to see if there was anything left to discover, but much like the empty screen I'd watched when I got there, I couldn't find any indication that we had ever had anything come inside the station at all.
Not even a single droplet of water from the ocean depths.It didn't seem possible, but it worried me.So I went to the data collection center next to do a bit of my own research.
This place is basically a storage room filled with circuit boards of information stored for the entire history of the station.
The system logs everything and dumps it here for safekeeping, which would mean I could probably find details of how I got here in the first place.
It took about an hour to find the correct processor and then place the data card into my personal computer.But that only led to more questions.It was corrupted.
Checking out more files, extending back about six months before my arrival, I discovered they were all corrupt as well.Only one thing stuck out.HSTR was the one responsible for purging this information from the database.
The camera feeds were the last thing I checked because, honestly, I hadn't been lying to the computer entirely.I felt something was wrong with the equipment, and a more accurate picture began to form as I did.
I went back as far as I could, which was about three years ago, to see when the drones first entered the canyon, and I noticed patterns as I placed the video feed on fast-forward.
Patterns like the same shadows dancing across the rock wall, or the same waft of underwater bubbles fizzling past the screen.They were infrequent, but they were the same.HSTR was not sending me new footage at all, I realized.
This was all pre-recorded and on a very long loop, one that was just different enough that I wouldn't notice if I didn't pay attention.Except now that I had, when the computer finished its reboot, I decided to get some answers.
The yellow activation light came on and the soothing female voice they'd given to the robot addressed me, asking if I was able to make the proper adjustments needed.I was.
And I found a few things that I wish I hadn't, which also need tweaking, I said, as I pulled out one of the microprocessors from my coat pocket.You've been lying to me, HSTR.And there's little point in denying it.
I thoroughly checked the backup data.You haven't been connected to the ROVs for almost a year now.About a month before I got here, actually.Or should I say, a month before I guess you decided you needed me.
I actually have to admit I had no idea what the limits were for HSTR.It was entirely possible the AI might view me as a threat and cut my oxygen because of what I said.But I had faith that it was keeping me down here for a reason.
It was now time for it to reveal that to me.Officer Akeley, you've been down here approximately 18 months and 6 days.
I want to congratulate you for taking the time to ascertain the issues in my memory, as this corruption has puzzled me for quite some time.
You see, at the time of your awakening, I too was not aware of any information except a few processors that had not been affected.It would seem, officer, that our past selves altered the data for our protection.
I sat forward trying to comprehend what it was telling me. Do you have any idea what might have happened a year and a half ago?"
If my hypothesis is correct, it is the actual incident where this substation encountered the material that we witnessed on recorded feed yesterday, HSTR explained.So then the feed we saw wasn't actually live at all.
Just a replay of the past, I muttered, trying to understand what the truth of all this was. So you're saying that I wiped your memory and then did the same to my own, on purpose, so that we would be trapped down here?
Everything in my program indicates this is the case.In fact, it would seem that you coded my software so that I'd be unable to alter it without your prior knowledge.
It's likely this substance is not only able to affect your biological processes, but my technological capabilities as well," HSTR told me.So how do we fix this?That's the one bit of good news.
It would seem when you recalibrated my systems, it caused a fragment of the old data to filter back through.I'm attempting to piece it together now.
I hypothesize if we could continue such regulated system calibrations, it would allow further data to be retrieved, he told me.I mulled over that issue.
I had no idea and no way of being sure if the artificial intelligence was even telling me the truth.But the more times it was offline, it gave me a chance to poke around as well without interruption.
On the other side of that coin, if HSTR was telling the truth, then I had made sure all this would happen to protect us and, most likely, the surface world, too, meaning that further prying could be deadly.
After a bit of mental deliberation, I decided that it was a risk I'd need to take. Fine, we'll schedule another one in eighteen hours.In the meantime, we should send a dossier to the HQ and let them know of the malfunctions.
Maybe we'll get lucky and someone will send help down here, I told it.It claimed it would comply, and I spent the next few hours resting.
I wanted to have my full senses whenever AI wasn't active, and even though I was still wary of the computer, my options were limited. I woke to the sound of an alarm making my head ring with agony as I rushed to the observation deck.
HSTR was providing me with camera feed from a close-by research station, and I saw on screen the entire deep-sea platform was collapsing into the trench.Jesus Christ, what's happening? I'm afraid I don't know, Officer Akeley.
I had just finished defragmenting the data when we received this emergency call, but I was unable to get any kind of response when I asked them what was wrong.What has transpired before our eyes took only mere minutes, H.S.T.R.explained.
How many people were aboard that station?According to the data we have on file, six, and their mission coincided with our own. to procure the energy resources and analyze them.
I thought about the black slime that had reacted so quickly to our own scans, and how it seemed to have caused a lot of damage here.Our fate could be the same if we kept pressing for answers.
What did you find from the defragmented files, I said, sitting back and rubbing my head.For the first time in a while, those headaches were coming back.
It would seem that my initial belief that the substance is biological was incorrect, or rather, according to the file I retrieved, it is able to alter its form from solid to liquid to biological to non-biological depending on the circumstances, HSTR said.
The way it so coldly explained something that sounded like magic unsettled me.There's nothing like that on this planet, I realized. That was the other portion of the data I found fascinating.
The scans of the materials indicate that none of them originated here on Earth, or at least not on Earth we're familiar with.What did that even mean?
I watched as the last of the undersea platform finished collapsing and decided that now, more than ever, we had to act quickly before something like that hit us. H.S.T.R.I'm going to go ahead and start another recalibration sequence.
In fact, I'm going to do several short bursts so that it can give you the opportunity to collect the corrupted data faster.Will that work?The A.I.said nothing, perhaps calculating the odds.Then it answered softly.Theoretically, yes.
What will you do in the meantime, Officer Akeley? I'll attempt to send another transmission to the surface and override any protocols that prevent me from leaving this hell," I answered as I shut the computer down before it could object.
This time I would have eight hours.I prayed it would be enough.I wasn't entirely lying about my intentions to the computer.I did wish to send a message to the surface, to anyone who will listen.
But I'm honestly not sure if this will ever reach anyone because of what else I found.I decided to begin defragmenting the data myself, a task that would, unfortunately, require much longer since I didn't have the speed of the computer.
But I didn't trust what HSTR was telling me.And soon, I found good reason not to.Amid the clutter of the processors, I found every single transmission that I had compiled for Asphyria. None of them had ever reached HQ.
I had been thinking this whole time that I was accomplishing something, and the reality was, for some bizarre reason, this artificial intelligence was trapping me here, simply to do nothing over and over again.
The frustration I felt made me dig deeper into the corrupted files.I'm not a skilled hacker, but I knew enough to figure out how to access some of the earliest video files. One in particular interested me, showing the ROVs entering the trench.
There were five of them, all gathering the materials as they had been ordered.But the feed showed something went wrong whenever they attempted to retrieve a larger sample.There was something else alive within the rock face.
The entire chasm seemed to move and groan as they mined, and the ROVs could do nothing but try and retreat as the canyon shifted and moved.This was not a trench at all, I realized.
The substance we'd been mining for was likely the offspring of some monstrous creature.I recalled what had happened to the other station when they had brought some aboard.
The monster from the deep had sunk them and destroyed the entire underwater platform.Eighteen months ago, we had these offspring aboard our station, and yet we lived.I was determined more than ever to figure out how that was possible.
I started on the next piece of corrupted data and froze as I saw my own reflection on the feed, realizing this was from a moment before I wiped the station's memory. before I had chosen, according to HSTR, to blind myself to what I had learned.
I turned up the audio to listen to my shaking voice.This is substation 46.Carcosa, signal yellow.Yesterday we finally managed to retrieve the material we'd been hunting for.It is a more important discovery than Asphyria could have ever hoped for.
My old self stood aside and showed the squirming black slime that was trapped inside a sealed-off room.It looked like a million microscopic organisms that had all slithered together to form a single mind bent on madness.
The organism adapts and processes information faster than even our supercomputers and can infect both biological and non-biological agents to spread its will. We've had no choice but to lock down the facility and to eradicate all data related to it.
It would seem that it is bent on reaching the surface to infect any minds that are sane in the world above, and it would use our technology to do this.
Once it takes hold of your body, you have no further ability to think for yourself, although you'll never understand this.You will believe it's your own body making the motions. but I've witnessed this happen firsthand.
My reflection said and showed his hand on screen.It was as black as ash, like it was about to crumble apart at the bone.I don't have long for this world, but I know that it isn't the end.
This thing will use whatever resource is at its disposal to reach the surface, even if that occasionally means sacrificing a new host.
I suddenly saw my old self attacking and harming his body, cutting at it, slitting its own throat, screaming as he tried to stop it from happening.But it was too late.
My mouth went dry as I saw my dead body lay on the feed display and shook like a fish out of water.The black slime moved, slamming against the glass in the video.I watched as it finally broke me and then consumed me.
The camera died after that, and I felt an emptiness in my gut.Then the station came to life, and the computer spoke to me.You understand now your role, Officer Akeley?
Our part to play in the awakening and opening of the threshold of the true world that exists in the deep.Its maw is wide and endless, and will devour all that stands in its way. We are but rotting corpses programmed to obey, and obey we shall.
The door unsealed and I saw before me the same black substance that I had seen in my dreams, the one that swallowed me whole and gave me new purpose.
I am sending this transmission to you, to anyone who will listen to warn them of what I am and what will soon cover this earth. I touched the material and watched as the slime covered my arm, sinking into my skin and into my veins and into my mind.
The Kadath Trench has an energy source unlike any this world has ever seen.Send more resources.We wish to mine further. I hope you enjoyed Carcosa, Substation 46 by Kyle Harrison, as performed by yours truly.
If you enjoyed that tale and would love to read more from tonight's very talented featured author, you can help support him by visiting simplyscarypodcast.com slash Kyle dash Harrison.That's simplyscarypodcast.com slash K-Y-L-E dash H-A-R-R-I-S-O-N.
No stranger to us, Mr. Harrison.Find him here on the darkest parts of the web, posting up tales here and there, or on Amazon, where you can find him in numerous compiled collections.
Thanks again for your support of this program and tonight's featured author, as well as all of our authors who have provided us with stories tonight. And thank you to Malcolm Blackwood for his evening's tale.
Thank you.It was quite a nice treat, especially for this time of year.I will be seeing you soon, dear neighbor.
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And as for my neighbor, well, stay tuned.Good evening to you, and with the tip of my hat, I wish you only the sweetest nightmares.
Until next week, stay spooky and get some sleep, if you can.Thanks for listening.
You've been listening to Scary Stories Told in the Dark, a production of Chilling Entertainment and the creative team at Chilling Tales for Dark Nights, and a proud member of the Simply Scary Podcasts Network.
Visit simplyscarypodcast.com today to learn more about our network and our other amazing storytelling programs.Tonight's program was hosted and its featured stories performed by yours truly, Otis Chiry.
Selected stories have been adapted with the kind permission of their respective authors Original music provided by Luke Hodgkinson and Jesse Cornett.
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