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Chapter 1: What primal terror does the protagonist experience?
You live your whole life and then in one second you learn what it's like for primal terror to swallow you, mind and body. He was standing in the hallway, lit only on his left side by the bulb. Just as he appeared in the photograph I'd found, He was very small, much shorter than his brother, my father, Eric. The family had said he'd always been boy-faced and a bit skinny.
Now, standing there, he looked old and sick as well. But he looked angry, too. Not for a moment did I think he was alive, and some terrible mistake had been made. I knew instinctively that he was not really there. That I was looking at Herman in the depleted physical state he had died in. He was wrong, he said again, his whole body trembling slightly.
He jabbed his finger toward me, almost in tears. I could have been a chemist. I had the grades. I think I tried to speak then, but wasn't able. Uncle Herman kept his finger pointed in a threatening way, as if it were up to me to change the past.
He turned with creaky slowness and took a couple of steps deeper into the hallway, toward the kitchen, leaving all light behind him, becoming a silhouette. He turned back just before he reached the threshold. the room. His face was a black blur, but his voice was still clear. There's a fourth body, you know, he said, voice hoarse. Shovel still in the shed.
Knife Point Horror Tales of Supernatural Suspense Written, Produced, and Narrated by Sorin Narnia Now transmitting from Spectrevision Radio anywhere you hear podcasts.
Hey there. Thank you for joining us for this episode of 13. Before we get started, as always, we want to thank our new patrons. Cicely Church, Sebastian Ecaveri, Kim McAdams, Brittany Thornbra, Eric F., Thank you so much for your support and welcome to the PodFam. If you'd like to hear your name in audio, then you should check out our Patreon.
You'll find perks like Patreon-exclusive bonus stories and merch, too. Head on over to patreon.com slash pod13 or click the link in the show notes. Our story today is Witch Bottle, written by Cassandra O'Sullivan Satcher. Are you ready? Sit back, turn down the lights, and now... On with the show. Sweat dripped down from his temples, but Seth didn't dare wipe it away.
Not only were his work gloves filthy, but he needed both hands to heft the bag of construction rubble down the stairs. praying all the way that he wouldn't miss a step and end up breaking his neck. There's got to be an easier way to earn an income, he thought.
He sure didn't miss the early morning meetings or the awkward employee reviews with his dick of a boss who clicked his tongue whenever anyone left before 6 p.m., even though the workday officially ended at 5. Still, there were times Seth would have preferred staring at data on a computer screen, at least his previous job, kept his parents off his case.
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Chapter 2: How does Seth feel about his job flipping houses?
For all he knew, she had a caregiver inside who hadn't noticed her sneak out onto the porch. While this lady seemed harmless enough, he didn't really have the time or inclination to sit and reminisce with a stranger over real or imagined happenings. Uh, thank you, ma'am, but I'm on my way somewhere. Perhaps, uh, perhaps another time.
He gave what he thought was a big, friendly smile, and then he waved goodbye. Seth nursed his second cup of coffee at his kitchen table the next morning. He should have left by now, but felt unmotivated and unprepared for the day. He told himself, it was just a dream. You're stressed.
But when he cracked open an eyelid to the thin shaft of moonlight streaming through his bedroom window, he swore he'd been awake. His brain had struggled to comprehend the small, pale form next to his bed. His childhood cat. Snowy. That didn't make sense. But he reached down to pet her anyway, searching for comfort from his troubles.
Stroking not fur, but the dry flesh of a bony hand, Seth recoiled in horror as cold, slender fingers clasped around his own. He laid awake, heart pounding, as he convinced himself that it was a nightmare. And eventually, he fell back to sleep. But the experience clung to him like a foul odor. This, on top of the weirdness of his meetup with Brian the previous evening.
Rather than relaxing camaraderie, Brian kept commenting on Seth's appearance, his hollow eyes, and thinner form. Sure, he dropped a little weight lately. That's what happened when he no longer got treated to the carb-heavy Italian meals that his ex-girlfriend had cooked. He'd always been a bit on the lean side, and indulgence was never his vice.
He tried to laugh it off, but Brian had been so earnest, so concerned, that Seth had ended up going to the grocery store on his way home from the bar. Maybe he'd start hitting the gym more, and cutting back on caffeine too, which might be affecting his sleep. Something needed to change. That was for sure. But Seth wasn't ready to use the business card Brian had slipped him for his therapist.
And he honestly didn't think he was that bad. A little low maybe, but he dragged himself out of his depressive episodes before. He was just stressed about this house. That was all. And these physical effects, including whatever had happened in the early hours of the morning, they were temporary.
He felt a tenderness on his forearm and thought he saw red finger marks for just a moment, but it must have been the dim morning lighting. There was nothing there when he looked again. He repeated to himself, aloud this time, it was just a dream. He drained his coffee and stood up, forcing himself to take on the day's challenges. Yesterday, he discovered the leak.
Today, it was yet another crappy surprise, literally. Some kind of animal had gotten inside the house overnight, as evidenced by the dusty paw prints on the kitchen floor, the claw marks near the door, and the pungent aroma of urine and a pile of droppings. And that's what he could see and smell. Seth didn't know if any wiring had been chewed up or chewed on.
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