Weekly Spooky: Scary Stories and Horror Fun Every Week!

Episode Notes
A reluctant young woman decides to throw caution to the wind and go on her first date, what's the worst that could happen?
The Blind Date by Joe Solmo
http://pennedinblood.com
Music by Ray Mattis
http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
Get Cool Merchandise http://store.weeklyspooky
Support us on Patreon http://patreon.com/IncrediblyHandsome
Contact Us/Submit a Story
twitter.com/WeeklySpooky
facebook.com/WeeklySpooky
[email protected]
This episode sponsored by HenFlix.com
For everything else visit WeeklySpooky.com
Transcript:
Cassandra wasn’t like most teen girls. She didn’t enjoy the same things that the other girls in school did. She didn’t chase after boys, or dressed in the latest fashions. It was a rare sight to see Cassandra wearing make-up on a day other than Halloween.

That was the only holiday that Cassandra cared about. She felt that was the only night she could actually be herself. She loved reading gothic horror, curled up on her bed. Her bookshelf was lined with the classics, Dracula, Frankenstein, and Dr. Jekyll to name a few. The newer romantic take on the classics made her feel sick and angry. They were taking her beloved stories and twisting them to attract the same people she loathed and escaped into the books from.

Cassandra had one person she would really call a friend. A girl two years older than her started talking to her in the lunch room one day. Betty was her name. She dressed in all black clothes and dyed her hair as black as she could. Cassandra adopted her look almost instantly. They shared a lot of the same interests.

The only difference between the two was that Betty was interested in the opposite sex. She occasionally had a boyfriend, and the time the two friends shared sometimes was strained, but Cassandra really didn’t worry. She would just dive into a book until Betty and her boyfriend of the week broke up.

Betty had a volatile temperament, especially with her boyfriends. None of her relationships lasted a month. One time she came over to Cassandra’s house with a black eye. Her boyfriend at the time, Randy punched her in the face. Betty said she cut Randy with a switchblade she carried at all times. Randy lived a few towns over so Cassandra never met him, or seen him to verify the story.

“Come on Cassandra, a boyfriend might do you some good,” Betty chided one time. She laughed it off at the time, but truthfully sometimes she did think about it. Having someone to share her dreams with, other than Betty, wouldn’t be so bad, she told herself.

After almost a year of joking around Betty started to get insistent, especially after meeting her newest boyfriend Brandon. She had met Brandon on a new Goth dating site. Cassandra warned her against it, but Betty argued that the site screens all the people on there. On their first date Cassandra followed them, just in case, but everything went well.

“Cassandra come on, just make a profile, then you can see who’s on there. You never know, maybe your future husband is on there,” Betty said applying her black lipstick in Cassandra’s vanity mirror. She had a date with Brandon later that evening and was getting ready at Cassandra’s house because she could borrow her clothes.

“Maybe it’s not a husband you’re after, they have women too,” Betty said with a laugh and playfully tossed the lipstick at her friend.

“Oh stop,” Cassandra said back.

“Well, what are you? Asexual?” Betty asked.

“I just think getting a boyfriend is more trouble than its worth. I don’t need some asshole calling me when I have fifty pages left of my favorite book,” Cassandra said as she pulled a black lacy dress from her closet. “Here, wear this one, it will make you look slutty. Brandon will love it.”

“I wouldn’t want to lead him on,” Betty said. They both looked at each other and smiles crept onto their faces. They both burst out with laughter. It wasn’t like Betty slept around, but if the mood struck her then she wouldn’t be shy with her boyfriend. It was cool for the guys to sleep with any girl they could, but if the kids at school saw Betty doing it they would call her a slut. That was probably why Betty dated boys from out of town, Cassandra thought.

Betty’s phone dinged with a text message and Cassandra used that interruption to check her hair in the mirror. It was time to dye her roots again. She would have to run out to the drug store. She heard Betty laugh, and looked at her friend.

“What’s so funny?” Cassandra asked.

“Brandon, he is so funny. He asked me if he should bring condoms,” Betty replied.

“You guys have only been dating for like two weeks, Jesus!” Casandra said.

“Yeah but he has been real good to me so far, he deserves a treat,” Betty said in a playful voice and slapped her ass.

“You’re too much,” Cassandra said with a smile and rolled her eyes.

A short time later, after Betty left, Cassandra sat in her room with a copy of In a Glass Darkly. It was the seventh time she read the collection of short stories by Sheridan Le Fanu. Her eyes kept drifting from the written word to her laptop Betty had left open on the end of her bed. After the third time she sighed and put the book down.

She typed in the web address for the gothic singles site Betty had used to find Brandon. I’ll only look around for fun, and to shut Betty up, she thought as she began to make a profile. She took a selfie with her cell and uploaded it to her profile.

Once that was done she browsed through a few men’s profiles looking superficially at them. She grew bored a few minutes later and put her phone down. She looked back towards her book, but she wasn’t in the mood, so she popped in the DVD of Ginger Snaps, her favorite werewolf movie.

After a few minutes a ding came from her phone. “Uh, Betty,” she said picking up her phone, but saw it wasn’t a text message at all. It was a notification from the Goth dating website. Someone had viewed her profile and wanted to chat.

She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t actually talk to a guy, could she? Even over the internet she wasn’t sure she would have the confidence enough to talk to someone in that manner. She tapped her finger on the thumbnail image to open his profile, but it instead it opened the chat window.

“Fuck!” she said as she saw the mystery guy was typing. She looked at the enlarged photo of him. He had shoulder length black hair. He wore a black leather jacket in his picture. She looked at the name attached to the profile. Jeremy, 19.

He was cute, she had to admit, as she scrolled through his information.

Ba-ding!
A new message from Jeremy. She tapped on the notification.
Hi there, I’m Jeremy and I love reading horror. I listen to goth music and just graduated. You look real pretty in your profile picture.
Even though he wasn’t there in person, she blushed anyway. No one ever called her pretty before, well except for Betty, but that didn’t count. Even her own parents, that mostly left her alone, never complimented her on anything.
“What should I say?” she whispered out loud as she looked at her phone. She began to type a message, then deleted it. After a few tries she finally got out what she wanted to say, sort of.
Thanks! You’re pretty too, I LOVE horror!
She looked back at her message after hitting send. “Oh God damnit!” she exclaimed. “You’re pretty too? What the fuck is wrong with me?”
She saw that he was typing back to her and she cringed imagining his response to her. She knew that she wasn’t ready to chat with a guy! She wasn’t cool like Betty. She wished her friend were here now to tell her what to say. She would probably tell her to send a pic of her boobs.
Um thanks…what kind of music do you listen too?
Well that wasn’t as bad as she thought. He just thanked her. She thought about what to say back.
Mostly local music. Have you ever been to The Freezer? She asked. It was a local club that she had been too. One of Betty’s old boyfriends had a band and they went a few times. Some of the bands she actually enjoyed, except for Betty’s boyfriends, they were terrible.
The Club over on 34th? I’m there right now. Chum Trail is playing tonight. They start in a half an hour, you should come out!
She hadn’t heard of a band called Chum Trail before. She thought about it, but she had never been there without Betty. She wasn’t sure she could do it. She quickly texted her friend to get some advice.
Are you coming?
Jeremy messaged her. She waited a few more seconds. “Come on Betty, you twat, message me back,” she said to her phone. A minute passed and still nothing.
Hello?
She felt bad for not messaging Jeremy back, but she was indecisive. She wasn’t the outgoing person Betty was and sometimes she was content just to follow in the wake of her friend. She sighed as she looked at her phone laying on the black comforter on her bed. Finally she couldn’t stand it no more and picked up her phone. She opened the messaging app and started to type to Jeremy that she couldn’t make it tonight, but some other time, but she only got two letters typed before she received a text from Betty.
WTF GO!
“I knew she would say that,” Cassandra said and let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
OK
She typed it to Jeremy and flinched when she hit send. She could always not go and say something came up, anyway.
Sweet! I’ll be outside waiting for you!
Ah shit. Now she had to go. She jumped off the bed and looked into the closet her and Betty had destroyed earlier to dress Betty up. Now it was her turn. Although she was very apprehensive about going she had to admit she was excited as well. She fixed her hair in the mirror quick and then put on the black lipstic

Episode Notes
When a new house has old secrets can the new young inhabitants survive their homecoming?
Homecoming by Joe Solmo
http://pennedinblood.com
Music by Ray Mattis
http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
Get Cool Merchandise http://store.weeklyspooky
Support us on Patreon http://patreon.com/IncrediblyHandsome
Contact Us/Submit a Story
twitter.com/WeeklySpooky
facebook.com/WeeklySpooky
[email protected]
This episode sponsored by HenFlix.com
For everything else visit WeeklySpooky.com
Transcript:
Brandon pulled the keyring from his pocket of his worn blue jeans. Kristie danced impatiently from foot to foot behind him in the cold morning air. “Hurry up Brandon, its freezing out here,” she said as a cloud of her frozen breath escaped her mouth.
“First thing we are going to have to do is change the locks. This key isn’t working right,” Brandon said over his shoulder back at his fiancé.
“I just hope the heat is turned on. I can’t believe you went out and got us a house without letting me see it first,” she said and rubbed her arms.
“It’s more romantic that way. Besides… it’s all my money,” Brandon said as the key finally did its job and the lock clicked. He swung the door open and turned towards Kristie. “Shall I carry you over the threshold?” he asked.
“Not until we get married, Bran. Let’s just get warm,” Kristie said and pushed passed him. He heard her boots click on the hardwood floors of the living room. “This place is huge,” he heard her say from deep within the house. It put a smile on his face that she liked the house he picked out. He entered and closed the door behind him.
“How much did you pay for this place, Bran?” she asked as he entered the kitchen behind her. She ran her hands over the granite countertop. It was so smooth.
“Now don’t you worry about that,” he replied and wrapped his arms around her. She squealed and started to giggle.
“How can we afford this place?”
“I got it all covered. I have been saving up for a while now. If I take some overtime down at the shop every week we should be fine. I talked to Sam he said I can work Saturdays,” Brandon said.
“It’s beautiful. When do we move in?” she asked.
“As soon as we are done here. I got the truck for the whole day,” he said back. “This is going to be great. We can now start a family,” Brandon finished. She smiled back at him and kissed him on the mouth making a loud smacking noise with her lips when they separated.
“Let’s go! You know I don’t have much at my moms,” she said and skipped towards the front door. Brandon watched her go. It wasn’t just to see her backside, although it was quite impressive. It was her youthfulness that really attracted him to her.
They had met in high school, he was a senior, but she was only a freshman. They didn’t really talk until Kristie’s mom had to bring her car into the shop Brandon worked at after graduation. They were nearly inseparable ever since. He followed her out the door.
Night fell across the town early in the wintertime, it was only 6:30pm but the streetlights have come on already when they pulled up in Sam’s borrowed truck full with their possessions. Brandon backed it right up to the front door so they didn’t have to walk as far.
“Come on babe, let’s get this stuff inside. We need to christen each room you know,” Brandon said patting Kristie on the behind.
“Once we get this stuff inside I’m going to be too tired,” she said and watched the smile leave Brandon’s face. “Well maybe two rooms,” she said coyly.
They carried boxes inside and placed them in the rooms written on the outside. They didn’t have much in the way of furniture. They were using lawn chairs temporarily in the living room. It would take another week or so for Brandon to get enough money up to get a couch from one of those rental places.
“You know Bran, I was thinking now that we have our own house, that maybe I should get a job,” Kristie said as she placed a milk crate down in the living room. Brandon placed the T.V. on top of it. At least they had a flat screen and not one of those old heavy T.V.’s he thought to himself.
“I’ll bring the truck back tomorrow. Why don’t we order a pizza and get cleaned up,” Brandon said kissing his fiancé.
“Sounds good to me, I could use a hot shower,” Kristie said and headed up the stairs. Brandon ordered a pizza quick and followed her up.
He could hear the shower running as he entered their bedroom. He started to assemble the wooden frame before he lacked all ambition. He just finished when he heard a knock on the door. He raced downstairs to get the pizza.
After they were full they made their way to the bedroom. He was glad he had finished putting the bed together. They hopped onto the mattress and started to get undressed.
Brandon awoke sometime in the night. He sat up and looked around their bedroom. It was like a dream come true. He turned back to his bride to be and smiled. He threw on his pants and headed down to the kitchen to grab himself a drink. He hoped there was a beer or two left over. Nothing was as good as a cold beer after sex, he thought.
He let out a wahoo when he opened the fridge and saw there was plenty left. He grabbed a bottle and twisted the top off. He took a long pull off the bottle before leaning against the counter looking over the boxes he had yet to unpack. A chore that he really didn’t mind having to do. Being out on their own was worth it, even if they didn’t have much.
He didn’t mind Kristie’s parents, well her foster parents, even thought they had split up both of them continued to be a part of her life. She had lived with her foster mother since they divorced two years ago. Sometimes Kristie would tell him he that she wanted to know her real parents, but she had no way of knowing. He foster parents refused to help her.
Brandon heard a thump from upstairs. “Babe?” he called out, but only silence followed. He put his beer down on the counter and moved towards the stairs. He heard no movement upstairs. “Maybe it’s the house settling,” he said and went back to his bottle.
A louder thump came from upstairs, this time with a scream. It was not the house settling. He ran for the stairs but a half dozen steps up he froze. Standing at the top of the stairs was a black form, its eyes glowed red with hatred. “Intrusus,” it said in a guttural voice.
Brandon felt his knees give out and he fell back onto the hard kitchen floor. He slid into the corner of the cabinets. Brandon was paralyzed with fear, but he heard something coming down the stairs and Kristie was screaming. He couldn’t turn his head to look. He listened as the noise went through the kitchen to the hall and then he heard a door open and slam shut. Then there was only silence.
It took him another minute before he could move. He got to his feet and called out to Kristie, but he heard no reply. He ran into the Hall and looked for her. He saw a small blood trail leading to the basement door. He grabbed a flashlight in the living room and headed towards the basement door.
He placed his hand on the knob and yanked it open, not sure what to expect, but only darkness greeted him. He shone the light on the wooden basement steps. He say the same blood trail leading down into the abyss.
“Kristie!” he called out. There was no reply. He took a test step down and waited, for what he wasn’t sure. He continued down into the darkness. He had never been in the basement before. When he came to look over the house he had Sam look over the furnace and other things in the basement. His boss knew more about those kind of things. Now he wished he had gone down those stairs before, to know what he was walking into.
He reached the bottom of the stairs and shone the light around the basement. He followed the trail of blood that led off to the right from the stairs. A moment later he came to a wooden wall, with a door built in with odd symbols painted in a black paint on it.
Brandon paused and took a deep breath. The hairs on the back of his neck rose and he felt rooted in place. What if the thing he saw at the top of the stairs was in here? What if it had Kristie? He looked around on the old wooden shelves for some kind of weapon, although he didn’t know what good it would do.
Brandon found a crowbar and picked it up with his left hand. He shined the light on the door that lead deeper into the basement. The symbols written in black paint there looked foreboding to him. He couldn’t place why, just something primordial told him to run, leave Kristie and run. He couldn’t leave her though. She was the only thing that made existence worth it for him.
He took a deep breath, trying to gather his resolve and grabbed the handle on the wooden door. It was hot to the touch and he yanked his hand back. He used a rag he found to grab it a second time and yanked it open.
Dancing flames met him, the heat off of which assaulted him immediately. He saw Kristie, surrounded by a ring of fire. Her legs bound at her slender ankles and her hand tied behind her back with some kind of leather strap. She was still naked from their foray earlier, her short cropped blond hair sticking to her face with sweat generated by the heat.
“Kristie!” he called and took a step closer to her. Kristie’s head snapped towards him.
“No Brandon. Stay back!” she called out with panic in her voice.
A shadow moved off to the left, Brandon barely caught the movement out of the corner of her eyes. “Intrusus,” the thing said towards him.
“Kristie, are you ok?” Brandon said facing the shadow and sidestepping towards the circle of flame.
“I…I’m ok,” she said. Brandon run. Just run!” she said.
“I can’t leave you,” he said back and watched the shadow move closer. Somehow it was darker than the blackness behind it.
“Lex debet incipere,” it said in its hateful voice.
“What does it want?” Brandon asked his fiancé. He could feel the heat on his bare back. He was only a few feet from the flames.
“I don’t know. I don’t understand it,” she said.
“Can you move? If you we

Episode Notes
On Thanksgiving a police officer discovers a horrible secret about a family dinner...
Thanksgiving Dinner by Rachael Redolfi (A Weekly Spooky Original)
https://www.facebook.com/redolfifiberfantasies/
Music by Ray Mattis
http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
Get Cool Merchandise http://store.weeklyspooky
Support us on Patreon http://patreon.com/IncrediblyHandsome
Contact Us/Submit a Story
twitter.com/WeeklySpooky
facebook.com/WeeklySpooky
[email protected]
This episode sponsored by HenFlix.com
For everything else visit WeeklySpooky.com
Transcript:****
Monticello, Indiana - just an hour and a half from the infamous Gary, and still less than three hours from Chicago. It was a small town, with a population that barely scratched 5,000 men, women, and children. Most residents grew up together, worked together, went to school together, hell… Most of them even frequented the same five churches. 
That’s why, when Sophia got the chance to move she chose Monticello. Just close enough to home that she could visit her family if she chose to, but usually she chose not to. She loved her family but… they were a thorn in her side. 
Chicago just wasn’t quite her speed; there was too much going on all the time and she just couldn’t cope with all of that, not anymore. Aside from being constantly high-strung from all the work she had to do for the city, she also found herself increasingly depressed dealing with the less-than-responsible members of her precinct..
With the recommendation of her chief, and with a little bit of fenagiling when a position opened up, Sophia got herself a cushy job in Monticello, Indiana. She considered it cushy because she really didn’t have to do much or deal with much, aside from the odd noise complaint or writing your standard parking tickets. Sure, in the summer she would have to work a little harder to control traffic or stave off the common drunken tourist, but for the most part she really didn’t have to work that hard. 
It really felt like the only time she was working was May through August - once the chilly September air hit, everything quieted down and she got a chance to relax. 
Sitting in her cruiser, she got a text on her phone. 
“Are you coming, or not?” the text message from her brother bellowed.
Sophia grimaced at her phone, sighed, and stretched out. It had been a long shift already, she really didn’t feel like dealing with her family. She glanced at a picture on her dashboard before opening up her phone and responding. 
“No. I’m not coming. The drive is too long,” she tapped back.
Three dots. 
Someone honked across the street and she glanced up. One elderly driver was taking too long to make a left turn at a light. She decided to ignore it. 
The response finally chimed, “Dinner starts at 6. Just say you don’t want to see us.”
“Ok fine I don’t want to see you,” she hastily pounded back then hit send. She was working a double anyway. Chief Lewis called off sick and she’d taken his shift; even if she wanted to see her family she couldn’t. 
Her black coffee bellowed up puffs of heat-vapor. She took a huge, scalding gulp and hissed, “fucker” at her phone before glancing back up at traffic. The picture on her dashboard glowered at her in monochromatic tones. 
The elderly driver had figured out the problem and traffic was moving along fine. 
It was never busy during noon, anyway, but during the holiday season it was so slow she could almost take a nap. 
Another ding. She glanced at the home-screen of her phone which had the banner of, “But grandma really misses you. Her and mom…”
She honestly debated opening up that message - it had been a whole year since her brother had attempted an honest-to-god conversation with her, she was curious to see what he would try to pull this time. 
“Officer Cortez please report, please,” a familiar and friendly voice chimed. 
Nancy was always too polite, if she didn’t end a call with “please”, Sophia would be suspicious. 
“Officer Cortez, reporting,” Sophia said back.
“We have a request for a welfare check at 1911 East Davidson, please,” Nancy said. 
Sophia plugged it into her GPS, it was less than three miles away. 
“Now, this one here is a doozy,” Nancy continued. “Probably should have just called animal control… um, if you please.”
Officer Cortez talked back through the receiver, “If you needed animal control you just should have called them. Why am I going there?”
“Well, to be honest,” Nancy droned. If she wasn’t droning, something was wrong. “Perfectly honest, mind you, the animal isn’t of the utmost concern.”
“Alright then, so what is?”
“Norman Roberts. He ain’t been in contact with his neighbor and his dog is still outside, if you please. Abigail White called and said he hasn’t been seen in over twelve days.” 
Sophia started her car and the engine of her cruiser grumbled to life when she followed the directions on her GPS. 
“Oh good! You are going! I’ll let Chief Lewis know he don’t need to go all the way down there,” Nancy said. 
Sophia paused. Furrowed her brows. Hissed into the radio, “You didn’t disturb him, did you?”
“Oh I’ve been keeping him updated on all activity in the town!” Nancy chortled back cheerily.
Sophia sighed, pinched her brow at a stop-sign and groaned, “Let him know I’m handling it and then… just… stop. Please. He needs his rest.”
“Oh, sure!” Nancy chirped. 
Sophia headed forward and followed the directions on her phone. 
“I guess chemo ain’t easy, afterall,” the dispatcher noted. 
“No, it is not,” Sophia reassured, trying not to look at the picture of her father. 
Sophia took a turn, waited at a traffic light, and took another sip of her coffee. Well-paved roads gave way to gravel as she headed toward the trailer-park. The soy fields were barren and empty, a copse of oak trees with vibrant orange leaves towered near a fence line, and a few crows glowered at her from their perched on the phone lines. 
The road was bumpy and her cruiser had a rough time hopping over all the potholes. Monticelllo was doing well, but not well enough to buy new SUV’s for the police, or repave all the roads; and even as well as the city was doing, it still had its rough areas, just like any city around the world. Sophia just counted herself lucky that this particular city didn’t have many of the other issues as elsewhere in the country. 
While driving past a barren grove of trees her phone chimed again. Another message from her brother, this time insisting, “Dad would want you here.” 
That almost set her off. Feeling the blood pounding hard in her arms and the burning sense of rage in her chest she paused, took a deep breath and counted. 
One.
Two.
Three. 
Four.
Five. 
She released the breath glanced at the picture of her father in uniform she kept in the car and scowled, grumbling to herself, “Now he’s trying to use you against me.” She wouldn’t dignify her brother’s harassment with a response. 
She turned a corner at the entrance of the trailer park and followed each left-hand turn until she came to the address she was looking for.
An elderly woman, definitely past her seventies, rushed out of a trailer and swarmed Sophia’s SUV. 
“Are you here for Norm?” the woman asked.
Sophia nodded, stepped out from the car with hardly a glance at the photo, and considered leaving her phone in the car but then thought better of it. If this was an emergency she would want her phone - and if it wasn’t… Well, it was still set on vibrate and wouldn’t disturb her. 
The woman, Abigail, bombarded Sophia with a tirade of information, “I’ve been waiting for what seems like forever! It’s Thanksgiving now and Norm promised to have dinner with me… He always promises but rarely keeps them. Almost two weeks ago, though, I made him swear on his momma’s grave he’d have Thanksgiving dinner with me and he ain’t said a word!”
Sophia nodded, took out her notepad and wrote down any pertinent information she could discern - there was none. 
“So the last time you spoke to Norman was twelve days ago?” she asked.
“Yes, twelve days ago,” Abigail confirmed with a nod. “He’d just got home from a long haul and promised me a visit today!” 
Sophia closed the door of her car with a slam, and immediately a cacophony of barks sounded from behind the trailer. Within a few moments the entire park was filled with the warning howls of dogs. 
“He does that when anyone comes over,” Abigail explained, pointing at the small yard behind the trailer. “He’s been chained up this whole time.” 
“For almost two weeks?” 
“Yeah, I just been giving him food and water,” Abigail explained, looking rather sheepish. 
Sophia grimaced before the yelping died down, and only the baying of Norman’s hound remained. 
“Have you tried contacting Norman directly?” she pried. 
Abigail nodded. “I banged on the door - both front and back! - and he hasn’t said anything,” she explained. “I called him last week but it went straight to voicemail.” 
Sophia nodded, and glanced over Norman’s trailer; none of the other trailers were in the best of shape, but his was the most worn-down. The paint had peeled off of practically every inch, all of the windows had been broken and replaced with plywood, the front door itself was held in place with a patchwork of duct-tape and bungee-cords… the trailer sat at nearly a forty-five degree angle at the left corner because the foundation had settled unevenly.
She noted a security camera duct-taped just above the front door and she assumed on instinct there was a twin on the other side of the house. She didn’t mention this to Abigail. 
Officer Cortez took a step forward and asked, “So when was the last time you spoke to him directly?”  
Abigail’s answer finally raised enough alarm that Sophia had to write down the answer, “Just about three weeks ago, right before he went on the road.” 
Noting it, and raising an eyebrow, Sophia took another step forward and the dog in the backyard began to growl again. Another noise - like a dog growling but very muffled - cau

Episode Notes
A young girl and her father are surviving and thriving in the landscape of the apocalypse, but this new dangerous world is more than meets the eye...
Surivors by Shane Migliavacca
pennedinblood.com
Music by Ray Mattis
http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
Get Cool Merchandise http://store.weeklyspooky
Support us on Patreon http://patreon.com/IncrediblyHandsome
Contact Us/Submit a Story
twitter.com/WeeklySpooky
facebook.com/WeeklySpooky
[email protected]
This episode sponsored by HenFlix.com
For everything else visit WeeklySpooky.com
Transcript:
The girl stared at the picture of her mother. She was only a baby in the photo. Her mom holding her tight and smiling. The girl was only one when the world ended. Her mom died then, in the ensuing chaos. She was fifteen now. Her father had escaped the city with her. Raised her out here in the middle of nowhere. They lived in a cabin, surrounded by beautiful trees. He taught her how to read, to hunt, to survive. She could hear the thunk of the ax outside. He was cutting some firewood. It was a comforting sound. They’d need that wood soon. Fall’s chill heavy was in the air. She loved of the smell of burning wood. Curling up by the fire and reading a book. Father had brought a bunch of books with him. He’d brought a few more back on a recent supply run. The girl hoped someday he’d let her come along on one. But, there was only the two of them. He told her that someone needed to guard the cabin and their stuff.
There were scavengers out there. People like them, but willing to hurt, kill others to get what they want. Worse then the scavengers were the dead. They were the ones that destroyed every thing. Dead bodies returned to life. They attacked the living, ate their flesh. One bite from them, even a scratch and you’d get sick and turn into one of them. That’s what happened to mom. She’d seen some pictures of them dad had shown her. Terrible looking things. A shiver ran down her spine just thinking about those pictures. There was always a risk those things could show up here.
The girl felt nervous. She got up from her chair and went over to the window. From here she could see her father working. Her dad brought down the ax, splitting a large piece of wood. His face was sweaty. He was starting to grow a beard. She didn’t like him with the beard, it hid his smile. He said it kept his face warm in the winter. Her dad looked up and saw her watching. He waved. The girl waved back, just seeing him, she felt reassured.
There wasn’t much to do right now. She’d washed the dishes from breakfast. It was to early to think about making lunch. They had a good garden going here, she’d gotten pretty good at gardening. Her dad had learned it from mom and later from mom’s books. The same books the girl read growing up. They along with the photo made her feel still connected to her mother. Dad didn’t talk much about her. It made him too sad. She could see it in his eyes.
Besides the garden they hunted the local wildlife for food. There were deer, turkey, rabbits and squirrels. She’d gone a few times, but as good as they tasted, she couldn’t bring herself to shoot one. Dad had been disappointed. Mainly he said, because he feared what would happen if he wasn’t around. This always led her to getting upset, so he dropped it. Now he went hunting by himself. She was better at setting traps for the smaller ones. At least she didn’t have to be there for those, when it happened. When they died. Her dad checked the traps once or twice a day. Mostly they just got squirrels. They made a good stew meat. Dad said they tasted a bit like pork. Something they didn’t have anymore around here. He said maybe someday they’d get lucky and find a wild pig.
There was some time before it would be lunch time. She didn’t really want to stay in the cabin all day. It was too nice outside. A little chilly maybe, but the morning sun was warming things up. Maybe she could convince Dad to let her go check the traps. It would a nice walk and a chance to get some fresh air. The cabin tended to get a little stuffy. If she was going to convince her father, she needed to be equipped.
The Girl went to over to the wall of weapons. That was her name for it anyway. On the gun rack sat their hunting rifle and a shotgun. Underneath on a table sat a bow and a bunch of arrows. Next to them was her pistol, sitting in it’s holster. If dad had his way, she’d wear the gun all the time. Even to bed.
The girl picked the holster up, taking the gun out and checking it. Loaded and ready to go. She took the belt with the holster and fastened the buckle. It felt tight against her waist. The girl took a sheath with a knife that was setting on the table. Couldn’t forget that. She tied it to her leg. Then she slid on her flannel jacket. Putting a handful of rounds in one pocket. Now all she needed to do was convince her father.
After promising her father about fifty times she’d be careful and keep to the route, the girl got to go. He offered to go with her, but after telling him she wanted to do it herself he relented. The girl wouldn’t have minded her dad’s company at all. But they spent so much time together at the cabin, it was nice to have some time all to herself. Besides, she was getting older, it was time she had more responsibility.
As she headed out the girl could still hear a few birds chirping away in the trees. There were some that hadn’t left yet. She hoped they’d be okay.
The brush crunched under her boots. The trees had started losing their leaves. They looked so beautiful this time of the year, with the orange and red leaves. It was a shame they couldn’t look that way all year round.
She heard a distant rumble in the sky. Looking up she saw the great bird far up in the clouds. Father told her about them. They soared through the skies. Letting out a great roar. Their bodies sparkled with lights, leaving a great trail of smoke behind them as they went. The girl stared up in awe. She followed after waving her arms and calling to it. Not that it could see or hear her way down on the ground as it flew through the heavens.
It reminded the girl of one of the dragons in the books she read. Tales of great warriors fighting mighty beasts. All for a fair princess. Then the warrior and the princess would go off together. Happily ever after. The stories always end with that. What was happily ever after? Sometimes the books had pictures. The girl would look at the pictures of the handsome warrior and feel odd. She dare not tell her father. The feelings made her feel embarrassed. Some times she dreamed about those warriors.
The ground gave way underneath her. The girl went tumbling down a hill, crashing through some brush. Leaves and branches scraped her face and hands as she rolled down the hill. Coming to a sudden stop in a small ditch.
The girl could feel blood trickle down her cheek. She stood, feeling dumb. She’d done what her father always warned her about. Lost focus. She’d been so caught up watching the great bird and daydreaming. The girl felt sore and had some cuts, but she was lucky to be alive. She turned looking up at the hill she’d just came down. It was quite steep. It was a miracle she didn’t break anything. More then the physical pain she felt ashamed. Ashamed she’d let her father’s faith in her down.
The girl started back up the hill, but the dirt was too lose. All she could manage was to get a little ways up before sliding back down. Finally giving up, she used a few of the words her father told her not to. She’d have to find another way back.
The girl looked around, A sliver of fear ran through her belly. She’d never been here before. She touched the gun at her side. Reassured by it’s cold surface and weight against her hip. There was nothing to fear if she remembered what her father had taught her. Keep her head and stay on the goal.
She started walking, looking for a way around. Or maybe an easier place to climb up. Her eyes scanning the terrain. As the girl made her way through the woods, a sound stopped her. It was a man’s voice. Gruff sounding, not at all like her dad’s. It sounded mean, violent.
“Keep your eyes open Dale.” It said, saying the name with anger.
The girl’s heart started to beat fast. That sliver of fear started to multiply.
Another voice, younger answered the man. “I am. I am!”
The girl crouched low and crept forward. She wanted to get a look at these intruders. Size them up. Did they know her and dad were here? Did they come to take their supplies?
She hid behind a large fallen tree. Long dead, it’s roots looked like the mouth of an angry monster. Peeking over the tree carcass she saw them. There were three of them. The gruff sounding one. He was the oldest. Then there was another male, about her age it looked. Then a boy, the one he called Dale. Maybe twelve or thirteen years old.
The girl eased along the dead tree as they moved forward. She needed to stay behind some cover. Slowly she drew her pistol. Taking the safety off with a click. Unless she ambushed them, they had the advantage with the rifles. They had the benefit of distance on their side. They’d have to come closer for her to get a good shot.
So, she waited. Breathing heavy. Sweat dripping down her forehead. Mixing with the blood from the scratches. The girl wiped her forehead leaving a greasy, bloody smear across it.
“You have to be careful with that rifle son.” The older man said, sounding a bit annoyed, yet fatherly. Were these his sons? “Out here you could hurt yourself or one of us. And there’s nobody to help.” It reminded her of her own training. Maybe they were good people. Maybe if she called out to them, approached them. They could be friends. No. She remembered what her father had told her about the others. They only wanted everything for themselves. Looking at the lanky older man she could believe it. He had a look about him. Something that told her to stay away. They’d most likely sho

Episode Notes
I Saw the Dragon by John Oak Dalton (A Weekly Spooky Original Story)
A soldier of fortune has to hold a hill in a war-torn African country, and spends a long night with ghosts… and something else.
Music by Ray Mattis
http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
Get Cool Merch
Support us on http://patreon.com/IncrediblyHandsome
Contact Us/Submit a Story
Twitter
Facebook
[email protected]
This episode sponsored by HenFlix.com
For everything else visit WeeklySpooky.com
Transcript:
When I left Desert Storm in ‘91 all I had done was run Saddam back in his rat hole.
We let him off just like my grandpa told me they did to the Nazis back in World War II, when he drove a tank right up to Berlin, and then had to sit there and wait for the Russians to come and trash the place. That was us, in 1991. Got up to Baghdad and pulled the parking brake and sat there.
So when my buddy Chisholm started talking about being a soldier of fortune afterwards, just like in the magazines, I was bored enough to try it.
We thought we’d be like Crockett and Tubbs, only with less Phil Collins.
We signed up with this for-hire outfit, and the first place we mustered out to was this African country that doesn’t even exist anymore. It was run by the government and then the rebels and then the government, and if they were sitting on oil, or had anything anybody else wanted, it wouldn’t have gone on like it did.
The only thing they were exporting were refugees, only most of them got shot down at the border, so there weren’t even that many of them.
So the government had this Russian Mi-46 copter, and they dropped us in a hot LZ at the top of a big hill where the country’s only television station was. Man, we came in on that thing “Ride of the Valkyries” style with just that one big red light at the top of that tower blinking at us.
That big red eye, looking right at us.
We were supposed to secure it to keep it out of rebel hands, only when the three of us got there about a half dozen rebels were hunkered down inside. We couldn’t just frag or burn the place so we shot it out with those guys.
That was because when it was all over, the president of this country wanted to come up there and make a big speech over the TV to the whole country. He was that kind of guy.
Chisholm got it right through the eye so that was the end of that adventure. It wasn’t like he had read in those magazines.
The other guy, whose name I forget, got shot in the leg, and it wouldn’t have been so bad but we didn’t even have a piece of masking tape to put over that wound. We weren’t ready for any resistance or much of anything. It was a half-assed thing we did really.
Eventually they got bold and kept poking their heads out farther and farther, and finally we got lucky and shot two of them. Then the rest of them ran out the back door and down the hill, and I stormed in the front door by myself because the other dude had already died too. Bled straight out and it shouldn’t have happened. There wasn’t anybody to lay down any covering fire so I could go chase the SOBs that killed my buddy Chisholm. No revenge for me. Again, not like in the magazines.
Inside wasn’t much. There was a lobby with a couple of folding chairs, and then a studio about the size of a hotel room, and a room where all the machinery was. VCRs and stuff, all wired together.
They still had their lunch set out in the lobby and a coffee pot on and that came in damn handy real quick.
I secured the area and waited for reinforcements.
It was funny, they had just loaded up all the VCR machines with movies and they were running nonstop on that one TV channel. All the boxes looked like somebody walked out of a Blockbuster back in the States and was racking up hellacious fines. It was illegal-looking as hell, but I guess running movies all day made the average person think the government was going to be okay. No need to panic kind of thing.
I guessed it wasn’t going to turn out that way after all. I was up there a couple days and nobody ever came up that hill.
I sure learned a lot about those movies, though. Saw them over and over. At noon played The Gods Must Be Crazy and then at 2 p.m. was Love Brewed in the African Pot, and those were kinda boring.
Then at 4 p.m. it kicked into high gear and they showed Shaft in Africa.
Then at 6 p.m. they showed Savage Sisters.
At 8 p.m. Black Mama, White Mama.
Then at 10 p.m. was Bloodfist and I love Don “The Dragon” Wilson so I always watched that.
Then at midnight was The Gods Must Be Crazy again and it started all over.
Y’all can have Bruce Lee or Chuck Norris or whoever. The Dragon had a legit fighting career of his own and made more movies, too. And I have too much respect for all those guys to try and guess who would win in a fight. It’s stupid anyway because you would need three time machines to make it all work out and that’s never going to happen.
Just watch the first Bloodfist movie.
But after a couple days of these movies playing over and over I got pretty bored, so I looked all around the studio to see what there was to see.
I’m pretty sure now what I thought was a big oil stain on the concrete floor of that studio was actually an old bloodstain. In fact I am very sure of it.
But what I was paying attention to at that time was this little hatch I saw in the floor.
I opened it, and a ladder made out of what looked like scrap wood kinda leaned against the frame and was gone into the dark. I unsnapped a flashlight from my belt and thumbed it to life, shined it around down there.
I saw that this ladder went down into a basement. Actually more like a root cellar, with dirt walls and everything, and there was a bunch of movies on shelves down there, and a TV on a card table with its own VCR.
Of course there were rats scurrying around everywhere but they’ve never bothered me that much.
Dumb I guess, I was hoping that’s where they kept the booze, or maybe the dope, or hell, even some fresh vegetables like my grandma stored in her root cellar in Indiana, back in the day.
Since none of that good stuff I was hoping for was down there I decided, maybe it’s time to change up the programming. Maybe people out there hiding in their houses waiting for it to be over were sick of watching the same five or six movies too.
Only when I started kind of ducking my head down there and looking at those shelves, these tapes all had hand-written labels so I didn’t know what was what. But like I said, bored, so I took one and I popped it in.
At first I just thought it was a straight-up torture video that maybe the government had made. Political prisoners. You heard about that kind of stuff.
It was for sure shot right out the back door of the studio. There were guys in soldier uniforms and they had…I guess they were knives. And a guy tied to something. Not a chair. Something else.
It wasn’t all made of bones but some of it was.
Only now I realize it wasn’t torture so much. It was…a ritual.
I was damn glad I never saw that bone couch or whatever it was around there anywhere. Where they kept that thing, I hope I never know.
I had seen some bad stuff by then in Iraq, but I got sick of this pretty quick and tried to shut it off.
Only I couldn’t get the VCR to quit.
So I unplugged it from the wall…and it still didn’t stop.
The pictures kept playing. That I couldn’t unsee. And the sounds.
So eventually I just backed up the ladder and pulled the ladder up behind me and shut the hatch and rolled a tripod over the hatch.
But I could hear the sounds coming up through the floor.
And the blue flickering light from those old TVs, showing around the cracks.
Even when I went out into the lobby, those sounds were right under my feet. A man dying. Evil men laughing. The scrape of bone. The whispers of knives.
And that was messed up because that root cellar wasn’t that big. It sure wasn’t under the lobby, but I heard it just as clearly as when I was pushing that tripod over that hatch.
Well that was a long-ass night and I couldn’t wait until morning.
Only morning didn’t come.
It stayed dark and I noticed my watch had stopped, so I’m not exactly sure how long that period of time was, but it was a long time.
And the threads starting coming loose and I guess at some point I just fired my M16 into that darkness until I ran out of bullets…and that was a stupid thing to do.
To run out of bullets, when there are still voices…and darkness.
Because I knew that in that…endless dark…I was going to need some weapons.
What I thought I was going to do with those weapons, except for shoot at more shadows, I don’t really know. But I was still a solider then first and foremost.
I knew Chisholm and the other guy’s guns were where they fell. Same with the two guys we killed. Plus I thought I saw those rebels throw down some Chinese knock-offs of Mister Kalishnakov’s beautiful AK-47s…when they were tear-assing away.
And of course there were knives and machetes and toenail clippers and everything else lying around everywhere.
The first step out that front door was the hardest. But those sounds and voices fell away, and that was something.
And the dark wasn’t too bad at first, and I could see a bit and didn’t have to feel around too much. Which is good because when that hot wind blew a little bit your direction, it didn’t smell good. You can figure out why.
So I was doing okay, all things considered, getting my little armory together.
But then Chisholm stepped out in front of me, right out of the darkness.
For a crazy second I thought somehow he had survived that bullet, even though he still had a hole where his left eye should have been and not much back of his forehead.
He said a lot of stuff to me I won’t repeat, mostly because he gave me a righteous ass chewing I deserved…but the one thing I will say is that he told me a lot of blood had been spilled right there and that something woke up.
Something woke up.
And that plays into what happened nex

Episode Notes
Tonight's story "Caves" by Joe Solmo
http://pennedinblood.com
Music by Ray Mattis
http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
Get Cool Merch
Support us on Patreon
Contact Us/Submit a Story
Twitter.com/WeeklySpooky
Facebook.com/WeeklySpooky
[email protected]
This episode sponsored by HenFlix.com
For everything else visit WeeklySpooky.com
Transcript:
“Becky, where the hell are we?” Janice asked trying to peer out of the rain-coated windshield. The downpour was almost too much for the wipers on the ’67 Camaro to handle, even on the fastest setting.
Janice turned the old AM/FM radio down, silencing The Cure’s Friday I’m in Love. She gripped the handle on the door as the classic muscle car traveled down the dirt road that led seemingly nowhere. “Easy! If you get a scratch on this car your dad is going to kill you. I still don’t know why we couldn’t just go to the lake like we normally do,” Janice said scooching her butt on the recently redone black leather seats.
“You don’t have to tell me, I remember when I dropped my ice cream in his ’50 Chevy. I couldn’t sit for a week,” she replied. “Last time at the lake was too close. Out here no one will see us.”
“I still don’t know why you think we should hide it. We are happy together, that is all that should matter,” Janice said placing her hand on Becky’s shoulder. “I think my parents would understand.”
“Maybe yours would, but my father sure wouldn’t. To him I am still daddy’s little girl who should wear pink and like horses and boys. It’s only for another few months, then we graduate and we can leave this tiny town and start over in a new city. Did you hear back from any of the schools you applied too yet?” Becky asked as she navigated the car down the old logging trail. Years of misuse has let some of the underbrush grow back and come close to scraping the custom paint job on her father’s prize possession.
“How much further is it?” Janice said adjusting her seatbelt that cut across her large breasts. She tucked the cross strap behind her for comfort.
“It’s been like ten years since I’ve been here. But I don’t think it’s much further. You remember Veronica? Her mom brought us hear hiking once in the girl scouts. There are traces of Native American painting and shit on the walls in the caves. It will be a cool place for us to be alone,” Becky said.
“Really alone,” Janice said planting a kiss on Becky’s neck. Beck slammed on the brakes bringing the car to a halt. “What’s wrong? Don’t you like my kisses anymore?” Janice said playfully.
“It’s not that. We are here. Well it’s on foot from here, anyway,” Becky said.
“We have to walk in this shit?” Janice said looking down at the peep toe heels she was wearing. “You didn’t tell me we would have to walk in the mud to get there.”
“I got it covered. Don’t worry, Becky said and reached into the back seat. Her breasts nearly escaped her tube top, exciting Janice. A backpack materialized in her hands and she placed it between them. She drew an old pair of sneakers and socks out of the bag. They shared a shoe size, something they had learned in junior high. They began to wear each other’s clothes shortly after and soon they found they had feelings for each other. Being from such a small town, they knew no one would understand so they kept it quit, pretending to just be best friends, but they were so much more.
Janice still remembered the first time they kissed. It was just a dare. They were still hiding their feelings for each other at that point, but as soon as their lips touched, Janice’s heart skipped a beat, and it hasn’t caught up since. Becky was her whole life, her reason for getting out of bed every day and she couldn’t wait until they could tell the world. Until she could wake next to her soulmate every single day.
“What would I do without you?” Janice asked, and actually meant it.
“Probably chase after Justine. She has bigger boobs than me,” Becky joked squeezing her own breasts.
“You know it’s more than just physical, right,” Justine said. She was always afraid that was what Becky thought. She was never good at expressing herself and sometimes a quip, usually about sex, was how it came out.
“I know, babe. Now change those shoes so that we can get going,” Becky said and killed the engine. She put the keys in a small pouch on the front of the blue backpack.
“What else do you have in there?” Janice asked as she tied the sneakers.
“A surprise for us,” she said and reached into the backseat again. This time Becky pulled out two cheap plastic rain ponchos and a flashlight. The rain was coming down so hard it made the forest look like night had fallen already even though dusk wasn’t for a few more hours yet.
Janice opened the door and hopped out, nearly falling onto the muddy forest floor. A slight scream from the other side of the car let her know Becky wasn’t having an easier time of it. She ran around the front of the car in the driving rain. “Where to, my love?” Janice said over the sound of the rain pounding on the metal of the car.
Becky pointed towards a gate and headed towards it. She didn’t have a key for it, but it was the woods, you could just walk around. She hoped once they got into the woods, the trees would protect her from the rain, but the rain proved too much for the leaves above. She was glad she put the backpack on before the poncho.
Janice caught up to her and slipped a wet hand into her own. With a squeeze she led her forbidden lover into the forest based on a ten-year-old memory.
“It really isn’t that far from here, maybe twenty minutes,” Becky said. “There is a big rock that looks like a big ass. Once we see that, we are close.”

“Figured you would like a big ass!” Janice said.
“I like your ass just the way it is. Come on, the faster we get there the faster we can get dry,” Becky said.
“Odd way to phrase what we have planned,” Janice joked.
“Ha-ha, babe,” Becky replied and climbed over a fallen pine. She helped Janice over the slick bark. The cold of the rain was starting to settle in as they hiked the path, and their conversation came to a halt shortly after. The next few minutes went on in silence until they reached a stream that crossed the path. A worn plank of wood crossed it, worn with age and weather. It looked sketchy if the plank would hold for their crossing.
“Ok I really remember this. We are almost there. The ass rock should be just up there. We could probably see it from here if the goddamn rain would let up,” Becky said.
Motion. There was definitely motion. What would be out in this weather? Even the deer have holed up somewhere, it thought. It put out a furry paw farther onto the thin branch and moved closer for a better view. It looked down on the two shapes as they passed below. A bright yellow, he couldn’t place it, but the sounds they made sparked a memory. It took a few minutes for its sluggish brain to access the right path. Hibernation will do that. It did remember a time, last hunting season where it came across these monsters. It cocked its head and watched as they walked towards the natural cave system it called home. It jumped from limb to limb, racing the strange bipedal creatures back to its lair.
“Here’s ass rock, just like I said,” Becky said. I wish I brought Dad’s polaroid too. Could have gotten a picture with it,” she joked.
“Didn’t he just get that? He probably wouldn’t have let you take it anyway,” Janice said from beside her.
“Yeah, your right. If I remember there was a bunch of evergreens…Oh there they are. We are here!” Becky said excitedly and took off for the trees.
“Wait!” Janice said and chased after her. There was a moment of panic when she lost sight of Becky, but all was well when she peeked out of the branches of the young pines. Now she could see behind them was a rock wall, about twenty feet tall. Becky was peeking out from a hole in those rocks. Together they left the rain for the shelter of the cave.
Becky’s flashlight came to life, illuminating the stone walls of the cave. It seemed that a tunnel continued back into the ground. On the ground was the ancient remains of a fire pit, Janice noticed as she shed the poncho. “Now what?” She asked.
“Now we get a fire going, and get dry,” Becky said pulling some wood and paper from the backpack.
“Oh, you’re trying to appeal to the pyro in me, aren’t you?” Janice said pulling her lighter out of her pocket and doing a few test flicks to make sure it still worked.
“I know you so well,” Becky said and took Janice in her arms. She kissed her, feeling the coldness of her lips from traveling through the woods.
“Inside and out,” Janice responded in a whisper, then shivered.
“Let’s heat this place up,” Becky said and grabbed the lighter from her friend. In a moment the cave was light by the orange light of the fire she created. She looked around the wall for the paintings she remembered as a kid, but didn’t see them. She did see some asshole had spray-painted “Jack was here,” though. She sighed. People just like to ruin stuff. Nothing was going to ruin this trip though. Their time was too precious together to waste.
Becky sat down next to Janice and held her hand. She was glad the warmth was coming back to her lover. She leaned in for a kiss. A moment passed and the two started to forget about the world around them and the only thing that mattered was them, this moment, the feelings they had for each other.

Becky felt Janice’s hand slide up her leg and over her zipper, making her hold her breath in anticipation of the carnal pleasures she was expecting. It wasn’t long until Janice undid the button and zipper and slid her slender fingers between cloth and flesh.
Becky moaned as Janice kissed her neck, her lips no longer could as they were engorged with blood flow in the heat of the moment. She returned the neck kisses to Janice, kissing towards her immense cleavage. She could feel her breasts pressed up against her and she wanted nothing mo

Episode Notes
Two low-life thugs might get more than they bargained for on their hunt for treats this Halloween...
Tonight's story by
Shane Migliavacca
http://pennedinblood.com
Music by Ray Mattis
http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
Get Cool Merch
Support us on Patreon
Contact Us/Submit a Story
Twitter
Facebook
[email protected]
This episode sponsored by HenFlix.com
For everything else visit WeeklySpooky.com
Transcript:
Ray had a bad feeling in his gut. Bud had a sinister look in his eye tonight. It was Bud’s idea they go out. There was an unreasonably cold chill to this October night. Most likely the reason the trick or treaters were starting to thin out. Bud wanted to do some trick or treating of his own. Ray knew Bud long enough to know that meant some kind of crime would be perpetrated by them tonight.
Bud swung a beat up paper sack back and forth as they walked. When Ray had asked Bud told him only that it was a “surprise.” Ray didn’t like his friend’s surprises all that much. But without him, Ray would never have made it this far in life. His mother was an out of work nurse. His dad a foremen at the chemical plant. Stuck home with a kid and a husband that was never around, she took her frustration out on Ray. Smacking him around. His dad, too busy and too tired from long shifts, failed to notice or care. When he was fifteen Ray ran away from home. Those first few years had been harder then hell. He’d resorted to things he’d never thought he was capable of. Then he met Bud. A former runaway himself. They were kindred spirits. Bud knew his way around the streets. Ray owed him. No matter what the man did, he wouldn’t desert him. Not to mention he was more then a little afraid of him.
A kid in a skeleton costume bounded down the sidewalk towards them. Happily clutching a full bag of candy in his arms. As he passed by, Bud stuck out his leg, sending the kid crashing to the sidewalk. His bag of candy landing next to him. Some of the candy spilling onto the sidewalk and lawn. The kid started blubbering as he rubbed his knee.
Bud knelt down and looked at the kid. “Did you have a nice trip kid?”
The kid shook his head back and forth. “You tripped me.”
“Maybe your just clumsy kid.” Bud laughed. He snatched up the kid’s bag of candy.
“Hey! That’s mine!” The kid hollered. “Give it back!”
There was a flash of steel. Bud held out the switchblade he carried. “Shhh.” He whispered.
Ray felt his heart quicken. What was Bud gonna do to this kid? He’d never seen him hurt a kid, could he go that far? Kill a kid?
“Listen kid.” Bud said. “This is my candy now. Mine. You tell anybody about it, your parents, a cop, anybody…And I’ll make you watch as I kill ‘em. ‘cause I’m the Boogeyman. And I know where you live. Got it?”
The kid near tears and more then likely pissing his pants nodded.
“Good. Now run the fuck along. And don’t talk to fucking strangers.”
The kid hightailed it as Bud laughed. Sniffing the air he looked at Ray. “I think that kid shit his pants. Or was it you?”
“Fuck.” Ray manged. “Fuck man.”
This made Bud laugh louder, handing the bag of ill gotten candy to Ray. “Have some.”
Shaking his head, Ray reached into the bag. Grabbing a small bag of Sour Patch Kids.
“What are we doing out here tonight man?” He popped a red Sour Patch into his mouth. “Besides mugging little kids.”
“Well my man, I want to do something more adult then trick or treating.”
Bud motioned to the house up and down the street. “Pick one. Pick a good one and we’ll have ourselves some fun.”
Ray let his eyes wander over the houses. Nice upper middle-class homes. Some decorated to the hilt for Halloween. Others bore nothing at all. One house in particular. A large Grim Reaper stood on lawn. His eyes glowing. A witch stood next to him, cackling at a passersby. Purple, orange and green lights decorated the house’s exterior. A large glowing ghost hung on the front door. Loudly wailing at little kids as the walked up to the front door.
“That one.” Ray pointed.
Bud nodded in approval. A pretty brunette answered the door. Handing out candy to the little kids waiting there.
“Good choice.”
Amanda followed the outline on the construction paper. A detailed drawing of a skeleton grinning at her. She’d always been pretty good at drawing. Cutting things with scissors was another thing.
Next to her, Amanda’s little brother Kyle coughed as he coloured in a pumpkin she’d draw earlier. They sat at the kitchen table. Surround by snacks and colored paper.
What a drag. Stuck home on Halloween night looking after her sick kid brother. Her parents were off to have diner and then a movie. She was missing Stevie Lee’s big Halloween party at the Mill Creek farms. She’d just got her driver’s license and barely got to use it. Why couldn’t her parents cancel? Why’d it have to be her?
She looked at her brother. It sucked for him too. He’d really been looking forward to trick or treating tonight. Instead they were stuck home together. Both of them had gotten bored watching horror movies on TV. She’d decided maybe making something would lift their spirits.
“The Horrorthon will be back with Night of The Killer Lobsters after a word from our ghoulish sponsors.” The television played to an empty living room.
The ghost hanging on the front door wailed. Breaking Amanda’s thoughts. The scissors slipped, causing her to poke her thumb.
“Oh shit!” She hollered.
“You okay?” Kyle asked.
“Yeah. You didn’t hear me swear, right?”
He gave her a thumbs up.
There was a loud knock at the front door.
“Want me to get it?” Her brother asked.
Amanda stood. Holding the scissors in one hand. “I’ll get it.”
There was another loud knock.
“Coming!” Amanda shouted over the ghost’s howling. “Hold your fucking horses.” She said under her breath.
“Look!” A man warned on the television. “There’s one now!” As a lobster was superimposed over the side of a car. Menacing some kids in Lover’s Lane.
Walking past a upright piano set against one wall. Setting the scissors on the coffee table, Amanda picked up her mom’s large ceramic bowl. According to her it was some family heirloom.
A red drop hit the beige carpet.
“Shit.” Amanda growled. Looking at the trail of blood drops on the carpet behind her. She hadn’t though the scissors had broke the skin of her thumb. Now she’d have to get blood stains out of the carpet before mom and dad got home. What next?
There was another furious knock.
“Yeah. Yeah.” She said. This time not even trying to hide her annoyance. The pile up of the night’s events getting to her. So much so Amanda forgot to look through the window to see who was out there first. Something she always did.
Unlocking the door, she yanked it open. Two men in plastic clown masks stood waiting.
Amanda stood, hesitating. “Trick or-”
The rest of it was cut off as the closer of the two men drove a fist into her stomach. Knocking the air out of her lungs and doubling her over. Mom’s precious heirloom hitting the floor, shattering. Sending candy spilling over the floor.
Before she could recover, strong hands shoved her back into the living room. The two men rushing in after her. The second man closes the door, locking it and turning off the lights.
Amanda tries to stand. Earning another punch to the stomach from the first man.
“We good?” He asks.
The second peeks out through the curtains.
“Golden.” He answered. Keeping watch through the drawn curtains.
Amanda staggered hunched over. Barely able to gasp for air much less form words. She wanted to warn her brother. Scream out for help. Anything.
The first man grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head up, so they were face to face.
His gloved hand touched her cheek. In his other he held a switchblade. “You alone girly?”
“Yea-Yeah.” She gasped.
“What’s a looker like you doing all alone on Halloween night?”
“I-I was grounded.” She manged. Tears burning her eyes.
“That so? Wouldn’t be lying would you? Don’t have a boyfriend stashed somewhere? Maybe a girlfriend? You know what they say. ‘When the cats away. The mice will play.’ You playing pretty mouse?”
Amanda coughed. “No.”
“Too bad.” He lamented. “Gonna behave?”
“Yes. Please. Take whatever and go.” She pleaded.
The first man picked up the family portrait sitting on the mantle. God, she hoped Kyle had heard everything and had run and hid. Or maybe he’d run out the kitchen door. Heading to one of the neighbors for help. He was a smart kid, it was possible.
“Who says we want to take anything?” He answered. “Where’s junior here?” He said tapping on the picture.
“He went with my parents. Trick or treating.” Amanda answered.
“Did he now?”
Her watery eyes wandered the room. Not too far away sat the scissors on the coffee table. So far all she’d seen was the guy’s knife. No guns. If she could reach the scissors.
The man chuckled loudly.
She met his eyes. He’d seen her looking at the scissors. Amanda lunged. Leaping towards the scissors.
“Don’t think so!” The first man said. Cutting her off with another punch.
Amanda staggered and fell to her knees. The world fading in and out of blackness as the carpet came rushing up to meet her as she fell.
Ray saw the girl go down in a flash. Turning away from the window when he heard the commotion. She hit the carpeted floor and went limp.
“She-”
Bud knelt down, checking the girl. “Out like a light.” He stood. Motioning Ray over.
“I’ll stay here with the princess. I want you to check the place out. They gotta have something valuable stashed here. Mommy might have some jewelry. Or daddy mig

Episode Notes
Tonight's preview story by Henrique Couto
Tune in on October 31st for the first episode!
Produced by Daniel Wilder
Get Cool Merch
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With themes of power, cruelty, and poetic justice, Hop-Frog remains one of Poe’s most haunting and impactful stories. Perfect for fans of gothic literature, psychological thrillers, and chilling narratives.

Settle in for a spine-tingling experience, and don’t forget to subscribe for more readings of classic and contemporary horror stories!

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🎵 Music by Ray Mattis 👉 Check out Ray’s incredible work here !
👨‍💼 Executive Producers: Rob Fields, Bobbletopia.com
🎥 Produced by: Daniel Wilder
🌐 Explore more terrifying tales at: WeeklySpooky.com

Get ready to deconstruct holiday cheer with this sensational marathon on *Weekly Spooky*! I'm your host, Enrique Couto, guiding you through a chilling selection of tales expertly remastered to amplify the eerie magic of the season. In this festive edition, join me on a spine-tingling jaunt filled with desperation, darkness, and all the holiday horrors that should never have found their way into the light.

We kick off the eerie journey with "Biting Cold," a brutal story of survival against the bitter chill of winter and the lurking terrors it harbors. It follows a nameless man, wounded and trapped in a snowstorm, who wrestles with the chilling question of mortality versus survival. Here, amidst frozen landscapes, our protagonist must confront both the beasts of the wilderness and the demons of his mind, spiraling deeper into a fight for life at the brink of frostbite and despair.

Next, we drift into "The Gathering," where a group of students at Black Oaks Academy are forced to confront the shadows of Christmas past as they huddle together amidst a raging blizzard, only to find that the warmth of companionship may not be enough to fend off the terror that dwells within the snow-covered darkness. Clashing personalities reveal buried resentments, and as mysteries unravel, a sinister stranger appears on their doorstep.

In "Christmas Rage," we witness the chaos undulating just under the surface of a festive holiday, as mallgoers find themselves at the mercy of an unhinged Santa. The cheer of the season is quickly drowned out by the cries of horror as most are hunted down without mercy. The juxtaposition of holiday glee and gruesome violence will leave you questioning the thin line that separates joy from fear.

As the marathon progresses, our thrills continue with "Tiny Christmas, Iowa," where a jaded New Yorker finds herself smack in the middle of a quaint small-town holiday that quickly devolves into a fight for survival against local legends intertwined with real-life terror. This charming facade rapidly crumbles when the cheerful inhabitants reveal themselves to harbor dark secrets, forcing her to confront the nightmarish reality hidden behind the cheery decorations.

Next, brace yourself for "Santa Letters," a haunting tale tracing the deadly legacy of a vengeful spirit tied to Christmas letters gone awry, leaving a trail of blood that spans years and shadows the town of Circleville, Ohio. The eerie echo of children’s laughter fades to silence as the community learns that the true horror lies not in the tales told, but in the unchecked darkness of our deepest fears.

Finally, we reach "The Weather Outside is Frightful," where an unsuspecting blizzard brings more than just a chill to the air. Patrol officers find themselves facing a supernatural threat as the walls between reality and nightmare blend into a harrowing landscape where creatures of the night lurk just beyond their view, and no one is safe from the impending doom.

So snuggle up tight, dear listeners, and prepare for the chilling tales we've unraveled just for you. Remember to stay subscribed for even more spine-tingling holiday stories throughout the festive season. You wouldn't want to miss out on the dangers that lurk when the lights dim and the snow swallows the screams, would you? Until next time, may your holiday season be spookily delightful!

The Legend of Oopsie Poopsie" is a twisted, darkly comedic horror story about a grotesque, six-foot-tall baby with a bloodied rattle and a tragic, inbred origin. Set in a creepy Adirondack town, it blends absurd humor, chilling suspense, and over-the-top gore as an outsider discovers the horrifying truth behind the town’s most infamous legend. Prepare for a story that’s equal parts terrifying and hilariously unsettling.


Support Us and Get Bonus Shows on Patreon!

Contact Us/Submit a Story
twitter.com/WeeklySpooky
facebook.com/WeeklySpooky
[email protected]

Music by Ray Mattis http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com

Executive Producers
Rob Fields
Mark Shields
Bobbletopia.com

Produced by Daniel Wilder

This episode is sponsored by 
HenFlix.com

🎧 LISTEN NOW and subscribe for spine-tingling horror stories every week!

🎉 Unlock exclusive bonus episodes and support the show on Patreon!
👉 WeeklySpooky.com/Join

📬 Contact Us / Submit Your Horror Story!

• Twitter: @WeeklySpooky
• Facebook: facebook.com/WeeklySpooky
• Email: [email protected]

🎵 Music by Ray Mattis 👉 Check out Ray’s incredible work here !
👨‍💼 Executive Producers: Rob Fields, Bobbletopia.com
🎥 Produced by: Daniel Wilder
🌐 Explore more terrifying tales at: WeeklySpooky.com