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Chilling Tales for Dark Nights and

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Scary Podcast Network. Visit

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simplyscarypodcast.com to learn more about

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for listening, and enjoy the show.

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I'm Storyteller Otis J. Jyrie.

1:30

And I ain't your

1:32

grandfather. From

1:34

where I'm from, we don't

1:37

do bedtime stories. And

1:39

if that's what you were expecting, you're

1:42

in the wrong place.

1:45

If it's terrifying tales you're

1:48

after, well then, I've got

1:51

just the thing. Get

1:53

comfortable. Settle in. Turn

1:56

off the lights. If you

1:59

dare. Your

2:01

night is about to get

2:03

a whole lot darker. Who

2:09

needs sleep anyway? Ha

2:13

ha ha ha ha ha ha! Good

2:26

evening! You're listening to Scary

2:28

Stories, told in the dark.

2:31

Welcome dear listeners to Season 14,

2:33

Episode 22. I'm

2:36

your host, Otis Jyree, and in

2:39

this episode I'll be performing three

2:41

tales to terrify you, courtesy

2:44

of authors Finn McCool, Nikki

2:46

Expisito, and Dale Thompson. Tonight

2:50

we'll hear stories of menacing

2:52

matrons, awful aristocrats, and

2:55

cracked cultists. You're

2:58

listening to the standard edition of tonight's

3:00

program, which contains the

3:02

first two spine tingling stories.

3:05

If you'd like to show your support

3:07

and enjoy an extended version of this

3:09

and other episodes with twice the terror,

3:12

visit simplyscarypodcast.com

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and click patrons in the upper menu to

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sign up today. Thank you

3:19

for your support. Now

3:21

it's time to take a walk together

3:24

down the moonlit trail. So

3:26

lock your doors, turn your lights down

3:28

low, and settle in. This

3:31

show's about to begin. Ha ha ha

3:34

ha ha ha! Neighborhoods.

3:39

Communities. On the

3:41

one hand, they seem so quiet, so

3:44

unassuming, and most of the time people

3:46

just go about their daily lives. But

3:49

sometimes there's that one house on

3:52

the block nobody wants to

3:54

walk past, or where people go

3:56

in and never come out, or

3:59

even that weird cat. community center

4:01

group that always meets well after dark,

4:04

and the lights in the building keep flickering.

4:07

Yes, sometimes it's

4:09

not the unknown you should be worried

4:11

about, as the people

4:13

you know all too well. Thin

4:16

the cool brings us the first tale of

4:18

the night with a dip into suburbia, and

4:21

what is normally a helpful thing,

4:24

the neighborhood watch. The

4:26

watch is there to keep everyone safe,

4:28

right? Make sure nobody

4:30

comes around smashing in windows and whatnot.

4:34

What about that old saying, though?

4:36

Who watches the watchman? Without

4:40

further ado, I present to you,

4:43

Mrs. Jones' Neighborhood Watch.

4:54

It was never my intention to get on

4:56

the wrong side of Mrs.

4:58

Jones from number five.

5:01

Sure, I never liked the woman.

5:04

I always considered her a busybody,

5:07

a village tyrant who thought

5:09

she ruled over the whole

5:11

neighborhood. Widow Jones had long been

5:13

the head of our local homeowners'

5:16

association, and seemed to

5:18

take a perverse pleasure from

5:20

imposing meaningless rules and

5:23

regulations, and should generally

5:25

like to stick her nose into other people's

5:27

business. Her bully-like

5:29

behavior didn't sit right with me, but

5:32

I'm not someone who likes confrontation,

5:35

so I preferred to keep my head down and

5:37

not cause problems. If I'm

5:40

honest, I'd have to say

5:42

I gave in way too easily to

5:44

Widow Jones' petty demands, and

5:47

I submitted without argument when she ordered me

5:49

to put my garbage cans or

5:51

mow my slightly overgrown lawn. Likewise,

5:55

I would turn a blind eye whenever

5:57

the woman harassed and bullied my neighbors.

6:00

reading them in the middle of the street for

6:02

everybody to see. I had

6:04

peeked through my curtains to observe these

6:06

arguments, and my blood

6:08

would boil when I saw the white-haired

6:10

Mrs. Jones humiliating those

6:12

poor people. But

6:15

I would never intervene. I

6:18

told myself it wasn't my fight,

6:20

and so would retreat into the warmth

6:22

and safety of my comfortable suburban home,

6:25

soon forgetting all about the

6:27

unpleasantness. I suppose

6:29

I could have continued to live like

6:32

this indefinitely. But in

6:34

time the situation on my home

6:36

street escalated, and Mrs.

6:38

Jones transformed from a petty old woman

6:41

with too much time in her hands

6:44

to a dangerous tyrant with a

6:46

frightening level of control over

6:48

her followers. It

6:50

all started last month when our normally quiet

6:53

and peaceful neighborhood was subjected

6:55

to several acts of minor

6:57

vandalism. I'm talking

6:59

about eggs thrown at windows, toilet

7:02

paper left hanging from tree branches,

7:05

small-scale teenage pranks that you'd expect

7:07

to see from time to time.

7:10

But, of course, Widow Jones

7:12

and her people blew the

7:14

whole thing out of proportion, acting

7:17

like our community was in the midst of

7:19

a deadly crime wave. Before

7:22

long we were all dragged into

7:24

an emergency HOA meeting, during

7:26

which Mrs. Jones spoke at length

7:28

about the great threat facing our

7:30

community and how we had

7:32

to take decisive action to protect ourselves.

7:35

Her solution was a neighborhood

7:38

watch scheme, a

7:40

group which would, of course, be

7:42

led by Mrs. Jones herself and

7:44

packed with her closest supporters. This

7:47

action included the Smiths, a

7:50

childless couple with multiple cats who roamed

7:52

the neighborhood and had an

7:54

unpleasant tendency to leave little

7:57

presents on my lawn. the

8:00

Colonel, an ex-military man

8:02

who retained his no-nonsense persona

8:05

and passion for strict discipline.

8:08

The Colonel also kept a substantial collection

8:11

of firearms and bladed weapons, and

8:14

he was said to be very

8:16

proficient in hand-to-hand combat. Finally

8:19

there was Harriet, a middle-aged spidster

8:21

known for her bizarre behavior and

8:23

nasty habit of spreading

8:25

gossip and false rumors among

8:28

her other neighbors. I

8:30

could just about deal with these odd characters

8:33

on a one-to-one basis, but

8:35

together, under the direction of Mrs.

8:37

Jones, this group

8:39

were an unholy terror. I

8:43

did my best to avoid their

8:45

suburban vigilante gang, although I would

8:47

often observe their activities, from

8:49

my bedroom window, watching as they

8:51

patrolled our tidy street of

8:54

detached two-story houses, neat green

8:56

lawns, and white picket

8:58

fences. And all the

9:00

time they were searching for

9:03

violent criminals who simply did not

9:05

exist in this place. There

9:08

was something particularly sinister about this little

9:10

group who'd let the little power they

9:12

had go to their heads. Soon

9:15

they began acting like Stasi, constantly

9:18

controlling the block and aggressively

9:21

challenging anyone unfamiliar

9:23

or vaguely suspicious. They

9:26

always heard their phones out, messaging each

9:28

other in their private group, and

9:30

videoing constantly, violating people's

9:32

privacy, whilst arguing that

9:35

such measures were necessary

9:37

for the protection of the

9:39

community. Like I said,

9:41

I wasn't keen to get involved, even

9:43

though I didn't agree with what these people were

9:45

doing or the way they

9:47

conducted themselves. But

9:49

this all changed one night, when

9:52

I witnessed a violent altercation that

9:54

I couldn't ignore. I

9:56

was watching television in my front room with the curtains

9:58

drawn when Stasi was there. Suddenly I heard

10:01

a commotion from outside, as raised

10:03

voices and the sounds of a

10:05

scuffle caused me concern. The

10:07

hairs in the back of my neck stood on end as

10:09

I slowly made my way to the window, and

10:12

discreetly peeked out through the curtains. I

10:16

saw a disturbing scene unfolding on

10:18

the road and illuminated by

10:20

the street lights. The

10:22

vigilante patrol was there, of course, but

10:25

O'Jones wasn't present as far as I could see,

10:27

but the rest of the gang were there, and

10:30

no doubt following their leader's orders.

10:33

My four neighbors had formed a tight circle

10:35

surrounding a teenage boy who had,

10:38

unfortunately, fallen afoul

10:40

of their patrol. The

10:42

kid had dark hair and a thin

10:44

stubble on his chin, which I guessed

10:46

was his adolescent attempt to grow a

10:48

beard. He wore a tracksuit

10:50

and a baseball cap, and he was giving attitude

10:52

to the watch members, talking back

10:54

and trying to look tough. However,

10:57

I could just about see the frightened

10:59

expression in his face under the dim

11:01

light. Clearly the kid

11:03

was scared. I

11:05

was uncomfortable with witnessing this scene,

11:08

and unfortunately it soon

11:10

escalated. I guess

11:12

the teenager must have made an insulting

11:14

comment toward Mrs. Smith, because

11:17

her husband stepped forward to defend his wife's

11:19

honor. Mr. Smith

11:21

was a big guy, and he didn't hold back, hunching

11:24

the kid so hard in the stomach that he keeled over

11:26

in pain. This

11:28

was too much for me. All

11:30

of a sudden I experienced a surge

11:32

of adrenaline, which prompted me into action.

11:36

Before I knew it, I was charging out into

11:38

the street, ready to confront the aggressors for the

11:40

first time. However,

11:42

I think my courage started to waver once

11:44

I was halfway across the asphalt, because when

11:46

I shouted at the mob, my voice was

11:49

already breaking. Hey there! You

11:52

can't do that. Leave the kid alone. In

11:54

an instant, all four turned in my direction.

11:57

All cast in these furious glares. I

12:00

think they were surprised that I challenged them,

12:02

and there was a pause before anyone spoke.

12:05

In the end it was the Colonel who

12:07

piped up, speaking to me in a tone

12:10

which was both authoritative and condescending at the

12:12

same time. This is none of your concern,

12:14

young man. You should return to

12:16

your home without delay." As

12:19

had happened, the Colonel wasn't much older than I

12:21

was, but I knew they all looked

12:23

down on their noses at me. I

12:25

was invisible to them, a quiet and passive

12:27

neighbour who they could boss around when

12:30

they wanted to, but otherwise

12:32

ignored. But I'd

12:34

had enough of this shoddy of treatment. I

12:36

wouldn't turn a blind eye to this. But

12:39

before I could reply, the teenager pulled himself up

12:41

off the ground and cried out to me with

12:43

terror in his voice. "'Hey,

12:45

man! You've got to help me. These guys

12:47

are crazy!" Mr.

12:50

Smith responded by giving the kid a hard slap

12:52

across the back of his head. The

12:54

teenager yelped in pain and shock. He

12:57

tried to run, but Mr. Smith and the

12:59

Colonel grabbed him, holding him firmly as he

13:01

struggled in vain. "'Hey! You

13:04

can't do that!" I shouted. "'Yes,

13:07

we can,' the Colonel replied confidently.

13:09

"'This little hoodlum is the one who's been

13:11

egging our houses and cars. We're

13:14

affecting a citizen's arrest, as is our

13:16

right under law.' "'Oh,

13:18

come on,' I said back. He's

13:20

just a kid who played a few stupid pranks.

13:23

He's a criminal mastermind." The

13:26

kid continued to struggle as the Colonel

13:28

opened his mouth to reply. I

13:31

could tell from his facial expression that the

13:33

military man was fast losing his patience with

13:35

me. Meanwhile, Mrs. Smith

13:37

and Harriet had remained strangely silent

13:40

during the exchange. But

13:42

I now noticed how they both had their phones

13:44

out and were recording. They

13:47

weren't videoing the incident with the

13:49

teenager. But they were

13:51

filming me, cruel smirks on their lips as they

13:53

sought to intimidate me. Have

13:56

you ever heard of the broken windows

13:58

theory?" The Colonel eventually asked. Today

14:01

is vandalism, tomorrow it will be break-ins, and the

14:03

day after that we'll be dealing

14:05

with violent muggings. It's a slippery slope.

14:08

We must act now to avoid anarchy further

14:11

down the line." I

14:13

could hardly believe the twisted logic of

14:15

this argument, and couldn't think

14:17

of what to do next. But later,

14:19

a moment later, a car

14:21

pulled up in front of me, a black

14:24

sedan which I recognized right away. It

14:27

was Mrs. Jones' car, and the woman

14:29

herself was in the driving seat. She

14:32

lowered her window and stared out at me with

14:34

her piercing green eyes, and in

14:36

an instant I felt like a guilty child as

14:39

all my former confidence melted away. Mrs.

14:42

Jones wasn't so much angry as she

14:44

was surprised by my presence, and

14:46

she asked, What are you doing here? I

14:50

opened my mouth to respond but as covered I

14:52

couldn't find the words. I

14:54

don't know why, but the woman had that effect

14:56

on me, and I wasn't able to stand up

14:58

to her at that moment. Instead,

15:01

it was left of the Colonel to explain

15:03

the situation from his perspective. This

15:05

gentleman's causing trouble, he said. He doesn't like

15:07

the way we do things. Well,

15:10

isn't that a shame? Widow Jones

15:12

replied in a very patronizing

15:15

tone. Of course,

15:17

our neighbor had bothered to ask.

15:20

He'd know we were bringing this individual to

15:22

the police so he can be

15:24

dealt with appropriately. Everything

15:26

we're doing is perfectly legal and above board. With

15:29

that, Mrs. Smith and Harriet

15:31

opened the car doors while continuing to

15:34

film me, while the Colonel

15:36

and Mr. Smith forced the boy into

15:38

the back seat. I

15:40

saw the pure terror in the kid's eyes as

15:42

he fought against the two grown men holding him

15:44

and cried out in protest. No,

15:47

but only you assholes, you can't do this

15:49

to me. Deep

15:51

down I knew they weren't taking the kid to the cops.

15:54

I knew, but still, I did

15:56

nothing. Instead, I looked unhelplessly

15:58

at the entire group. piled inside Mrs.

16:01

Jones' car and drove off. The

16:04

kid turned his head and looked out at

16:06

me through the rear windscreen, his eyes plating

16:08

valve, which I had failed to provide. I

16:12

experienced an intense guilt as I stood on

16:14

the curb, watching as the car

16:16

reached the end of the street and turned,

16:18

soon disappearing from sight. Angie

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17:28

It's time to turn off the

17:30

lights and turn on the

17:32

dark. This

17:42

is Chilling Tales for Dark

17:44

Nights. Good evening, listener.

17:47

I'm Steve Taylor, your

17:49

host to a horror anthology

17:52

podcast, where we ask you

17:54

to depart from your safe perception

17:56

of reality to descend with us

17:58

into the frightening depths. and

18:00

dark corners of twisted

18:03

imaginations. With carefully curated

18:05

original tales of terror each

18:07

week, our deepest rooted fears

18:09

are brought to the forefront

18:12

by a diverse cast of

18:14

voice talent and masterfully eerie

18:16

sound design that bring these

18:18

stories to life. We'll

18:21

give you tales of unnerving encounters

18:23

with the occult, harrowing

18:26

hauntings, and sinister

18:28

seances that show

18:30

just how darkness knows

18:33

no bounds. If

18:35

you're like us here at Chilling

18:37

Tales and enjoy feeling your stomach

18:39

filling with dread as dastardly demons

18:42

dance in your head, make

18:44

sure to check out Chilling Tales

18:46

for Dark Nights on Apple Podcasts,

18:49

Spotify, or wherever you get your

18:51

podcasts. To subscribe now to always

18:53

be the first to enjoy the

18:57

Horror Show. I

19:07

returned to my home soon after the incident, but I

19:09

couldn't rest, as the stress of

19:11

what I'd just witnessed kept me awake. I

19:14

decided to do the responsible thing and called

19:16

the cops to explain what had happened. An

19:19

officer took down my report and said he'd look into

19:21

it. I guess I should

19:23

have realized that they were fobbing me off, but

19:26

I did feel slightly better after I hung up

19:28

the phone. I'd done my

19:31

civic duty and surely the police would ensure the

19:33

kid was dealt with fairly. With

19:35

this task completed, I was finally able to

19:37

sleep, but little did I

19:40

know that this was only the beginning of

19:42

my nightmare. I went

19:44

to work the next day, as normal, and gradually

19:46

forgot about the ugly incident the night before. It

19:49

was only once I arrived home that I

19:51

received an unpleasant reminder. I

19:54

drove up to my house and parked

19:56

on my driveway, only to find an

19:58

unwelcome visitor. grazingly, sitting

20:01

on my front porch waiting for me. It

20:04

was Mrs. Jones, wearing a long black

20:06

dress and matching shroud, like she often

20:08

did, her white hair and curls, and

20:11

her piercing eyes staring directly at me. She

20:14

was sat upon a wooden bench in front of my

20:16

home like she owned the place and I was the

20:18

intruder. I sighed

20:21

deeply as I exited my car and walked

20:23

over to the woman, dreading

20:25

the difficult conversation that was

20:27

surely coming. Mrs.

20:29

Jones smiled when she saw me,

20:31

a false grin etched across her

20:34

wrinkled face, which I could tell

20:36

was completely put on. Good

20:38

evening, sir, she said, while standing up to meet

20:41

me. Ah,

20:44

hi, Mrs. Jones, I said sheepishly.

20:47

What can I do for you? I

20:50

noticed how she was blocking my route to my own

20:52

front door and yet I couldn't summon the courage to

20:54

push past her. It's amazing

20:56

how this elderly woman of small physical stature

20:58

could have such power over me. Well,

21:01

neighbor, I just thought we should catch up after

21:03

the incident last night. Make sure

21:05

there were no misunderstandings. I

21:08

see, I said, whilst looking over

21:10

my shoulder and scanning the street. I

21:13

couldn't shake the unpleasant feeling that I was

21:15

being watched. I understand

21:17

you contacted the Sheriff's Department, she

21:19

continued. I felt

21:22

a cold chill run up my spine

21:24

upon hearing those words. How

21:26

did she know I'd called the cops? I

21:29

could see your surprise, Mrs. Jones

21:31

said. While you should know that

21:33

I'm an old friend of the Sheriff and his wife

21:35

and we work closely with the local police. What

21:39

did you do with the kid, I interjected, suddenly

21:41

finding my voice. Little

21:44

Jones looked angry at the interruption but

21:46

retained her cool composure and answered me.

21:49

We did nothing to them. The police released

21:51

the young man with a warning, but

21:53

I understand he's currently missing. The

21:56

poor kid is clearly very disturbed. I hope

21:58

he can find peace. It's

22:00

a load of B.S., I explained

22:03

angrily. You hurt that kid. I

22:05

know you did." The woman

22:07

glared at me, her eyes practically cutting through me.

22:10

I couldn't meet her gaze, and in that moment

22:13

I feared I'd gone too far. And

22:15

then, little Jones started walking down the

22:18

steps, slowly and purposely. Soon

22:20

she was right up beside me, placing her

22:22

cold hand on my shoulder and

22:24

whispering in my ear. I

22:27

was paralyzed by fear, unable to move

22:29

or resist her poisonous words. Turn

22:32

around, she alluded. There's something I

22:34

want to show you." I

22:36

did as instructed as if I was now under

22:38

her spell. She pointed

22:40

to the house directly across the street. Now

22:44

what do you see? She asked cryptically. It's

22:47

Mr. Anderson's place, I replied

22:49

nervously. Indeed, the

22:51

widow confirmed. You see the

22:54

garish color, he's painted his fence, the

22:56

long grass and untidy hedges, those

22:58

damn pigeons he keeps in his backyard that

23:00

crap all over the street. He

23:03

makes noise and upsets all of our neighbors. I've

23:06

spoken to him many times, but he never listens.

23:09

Alas, I don't think Mr. Anderson's going to

23:12

last much longer on our street. He

23:14

really isn't our type of people. She

23:17

paused briefly, looking directly at me

23:19

with those damned, bewitching eyes. What

23:22

about you, young man? Are you a good neighbor

23:24

or a bad one? She

23:27

didn't wait for an answer before continuing. I

23:29

used to think you were one of the good guys. You never

23:31

complained or made a fuss. I always did

23:34

as you were told. But then

23:36

you started harassing my people, going to

23:38

the cops, making wild accusations. If

23:41

I were you, I'd be careful. Very

23:43

careful indeed. I

23:46

snorted in an attempt to sound

23:48

dismissive. But in truth I

23:50

was frightened, and I think she knew it. Satisfied

23:53

that a message was delivered, Little

23:55

Jones calmly walked down my driveway,

23:57

gashing me a parting glare and a cruel smell of the

23:59

night. America she crossed the street. I

24:02

just stood there and didn't say a word. I

24:06

didn't sleep at all that night and wasn't able to

24:08

focus the next day at work. I

24:10

just couldn't forget the widows chilling words

24:12

in her implied threat. What

24:15

had she done to the missing kid, and

24:17

what would she do to me if I stepped

24:20

out of line? I

24:22

didn't go straight home after work, instead I left

24:24

my car at the office, and went

24:26

to a local bar to drown my sorrows. I

24:28

got a cab home later that night, feeling

24:31

worse for wear after drinking heavily. My

24:34

recollection is somewhat hazy at this point in

24:36

the evening, but I do

24:38

recall the taxi cab pulling up onto

24:40

our street and parking opposite my house.

24:43

I paid the driver and, shakingly, exited

24:45

my cab. But then I

24:47

rubbed my eyes and guess it was standing on

24:50

the curb watching me, as

24:52

little Jones and her people, the

24:54

five members of that damn community watch,

24:56

all of them glaring at me with

24:58

disapproval and contempt in their eyes

25:01

as I drunkenly made my way across the

25:03

otherwise quiet street. I

25:05

couldn't stand their scornful looks, and I

25:07

guess the alcohol granted me renewed

25:10

courage because I shouted across the group

25:12

with defiant anger, crying. You could

25:15

all go to hell, you damn psychopaths!

25:18

The Colonel, the Smiths, and

25:21

Harriet continued to glare at me

25:23

with pure hatred in their dark

25:25

eyes, but they did not

25:27

utter a word. Mrs.

25:29

Jones's reaction to my outburst was

25:32

rather different, however. She

25:34

simply smiled at me, shooting

25:36

a wide but very disturbing grin while

25:38

she raised her hand and wagged

25:41

her finger at me, telling me off like

25:43

I was a disobedient puppy who'd peed on

25:45

the carpet. However,

25:47

I wasn't in the mood to back down

25:49

on this occasion, so I

25:51

defiantly gave her the middle finger

25:53

before shouting, Screw

25:55

you, two-year-old witch! I

25:59

expected an angry angry rebuke, but the widow's

26:01

smile did not falter. Suddenly

26:03

I felt extremely uneasy as I stumbled

26:05

along my driveway and up

26:07

my front steps, fumbling for my keys

26:09

before I retreated inside the house and

26:12

slammed the door shut behind me. I

26:15

didn't have any trouble falling asleep. Thanks

26:18

to my alcohol intake, I pretty much collapsed

26:20

on my bed and passed out. But

26:23

my slumber was far from restful. My

26:25

dreams played by images of widow

26:28

Jones as she haunted my subconscious.

26:31

In one nightmare I charged across the

26:33

street to attack her only to find

26:35

my punches were weak and useless. She

26:37

brushed me off with the mere flick of

26:40

her hand, laughing cruelly as I fell heavily

26:42

to the curb and couldn't get

26:44

back up. And when

26:46

she looked down upon me with her predatory eyes, I

26:49

knew I was entirely at her

26:51

mercy. I guess I

26:53

must have been out for a couple of hours before

26:56

I was rudely awakened by a loud banging noise. I

26:58

shot up from my pillow in a panic, soon

27:01

realizing that somebody was trying to

27:03

smash my front door down. No

27:05

prizes for guessing who it was. Suddenly

27:08

I felt quite sober as I jumped up from my bed

27:10

and went to the window, looking down

27:12

to see the community watch members standing on

27:15

my porch. All wore

27:17

black clothes and hoods but were

27:19

clearly recognizable, and to

27:21

my horror I saw all four were armed.

27:24

Colonel Kerry decided to start off shotgun

27:26

while the two women yielded sharp daggers

27:29

and Mr. Smith was swinging a sledgehammer,

27:31

smashing it against my front door in

27:34

a determined effort to break in. My

27:37

heart beat fast in my chest and I struggled

27:39

to breathe. Meanwhile my panicked

27:41

brain desperately tried to come up with

27:43

a plan. I

27:45

grabbed hold of my phone and started

27:47

to dial 911, but then I

27:49

remembered what widow Jones had told me the day

27:52

before. She was friends with the

27:54

sheriff, so would the cops even come? I was

27:57

still considering this when my phone started to

27:59

ring. I looked at the

28:01

screen and saw I had an incoming call from an

28:03

unknown number. I swiped

28:05

with a shaking hand, pressing the phone to

28:08

my ears, I spoke through trembling lips. "'Hello,'

28:12

I said as the banging on my door continued.

28:14

"'I did warn you,' said the voice on the

28:17

other end. It was the

28:19

voice I recognized right away that of

28:21

Whittle Jones. "'You won't get

28:23

away with this,' I spat back. "'You

28:25

and your attack dogs are going to get caught.' Whittle

28:28

Jones laughed and opened mockery. "'Oh,

28:31

I don't know so. The

28:34

police are no danger to us, and

28:37

none of the residents will say a word. As

28:39

for you, well, you're all alone.

28:43

You don't have close family or friends. Who's

28:46

going to notice if you disappear? Who

28:48

will even care?' I

28:51

felt a lump in my throat and tears welling up

28:53

in my eyes. Meanwhile the

28:55

banging grew louder, and I knew

28:57

my door wouldn't hold for much longer. I

29:00

didn't know what to say, but Mrs. Jones wasn't

29:02

done. "'I'm a fair

29:04

woman, so I'm giving you one last chance. My

29:07

people have got a taste for killing after

29:09

they've dispatched a teenage hoodlum. I

29:12

know how to control them, but the gang have

29:14

a lust for blood tonight. Somebody's

29:17

going to die. That's inevitable. It's

29:19

either going to be you or

29:21

somebody more deserving.' Suddenly

29:24

the door smashed open, and

29:26

I heard heavy boots stomping on my hardwood

29:28

floor. I continued to cower

29:31

in my bedroom, knowing I had no means

29:33

to defend myself, but I

29:35

continued to clutch a tight hold of my

29:37

phone, realizing Mrs. Jones

29:39

offered my only lifeline. "'Time

29:43

for a decision,' she said ominously.

29:46

"'I need to say you'll be a good neighbor and

29:48

do what you're told. I

29:50

demand total obedience.' I

29:53

heard them storming up the staircase and knew that I'd

29:55

run out of time. I

29:57

almost choked out the words that somehow I mad at them.

30:00

managed to reply, and what

30:02

I said would haunt me to the

30:04

end of my days. I'll

30:07

do it. I'll do whatever

30:09

you want," I whimpered. Good

30:11

boy, she replied smugly, before

30:14

abruptly ending the call. By

30:17

now the mob had reached my bedroom, and all

30:19

four stood in the doorway with manic looks in

30:21

their murderous eyes, and their weapons at

30:23

the ready. I backed

30:26

off and held up my hands defensively. I

30:29

had done what their leader wanted, but feared it

30:31

was already too late. Then

30:33

a moment later I heard a

30:35

cacophony of ringing phones and watched, as

30:37

all four of my assailants reached into

30:40

their pockets and withdrew their devices. I

30:43

stood frozen as I observed their gang

30:45

quietly reading the message they had all

30:47

received, and suddenly the

30:49

murderous tension and room faded, and

30:52

the four lowered their weapons and reluctantly moved

30:54

away from the doorway, making

30:56

their way back down the stairs. The

30:59

Colonel was last to leave, shooting me a

31:01

killer's glare before he moved away. My

31:04

heart was still beating fast as I ran back to

31:06

my bedroom, in time

31:08

to see the vigilantes exiting my home,

31:11

and quickly making their way across the street

31:13

to Mr. Anderson's house. And

31:16

I knew the mob had a new target. I

31:19

experienced a renewed terror, watching

31:21

helplessly, as Mr. Smith went

31:23

to work on my neighbor's door, smashing

31:25

it hard several times with his hammer before

31:28

he broke through. Next,

31:30

all four piled inside of Mr.

31:32

Anderson's home, screaming blue

31:34

murder as they continued their rampage.

31:37

I heard a violent scuffle inside the house,

31:40

closely followed by a gunshot. Mr.

31:43

Anderson's pigeons reacted to the loud noise

31:45

by flying upwards into the night sky.

31:48

It was a brief pause before Mr.

31:50

Anderson stumbled out of his front door

31:52

and onto the street. It

31:55

was only in his underwear, and

31:57

a hole in his stomach, wheezing and

31:59

acting. agony as his blood poured from the

32:01

freshly made bullet wound. For

32:04

a moment I thought he might make it to safety,

32:06

but the vigilante soon followed him outside.

32:09

The Colonel stood back, still smoking gun

32:11

in his hands, as he

32:14

observed his bloody handiwork. The

32:16

two women, Mrs. Smith and Harriet, ran

32:19

forward knocking Mr. Anderson down before setting

32:21

upon him with their knives, stabbing

32:23

him repeatedly while he lay helpless

32:25

on the asphalt. Mr.

32:28

Anderson screamed, and I

32:30

felt sick to my stomach in witnessing

32:33

such savage violence. The

32:35

women must have stabbed him more than a dozen

32:37

times in the chest before they finally stopped,

32:40

their clothes and faces now covered

32:42

in dark blood. Amazingly,

32:44

Mr. Anderson was still breathing, but

32:47

this state of affairs didn't last for

32:49

long as the women stepped

32:51

back, Mr. Smith stepped

32:53

forward, using immense strength

32:56

to wield his hammer, bringing

32:58

it down upon Mr. Anderson's head and

33:01

crushing his skull like it was a

33:03

watermelon. I couldn't

33:05

stand the bloody viscera recoiling and

33:07

retreating from the window and retching

33:09

in disgust, and the worst

33:11

thing was knowing I was at

33:13

least partly responsible. Mr.

33:16

Anderson had died because I had given in to

33:18

the tyrant. He died so

33:20

I could live. By

33:22

dawn the murder scene had been cleaned up,

33:25

Mr. Anderson's body was removed and

33:27

presumably disposed of, and the blood

33:30

and gore were carefully washed off

33:32

the road. It was

33:34

like nothing had ever happened. The

33:36

police weren't called and no one living in the

33:39

neighborhood said a word. To

33:41

this day I don't know why

33:43

Widow Jones turned from being

33:45

a neighborhood busybody to a cold-blooded

33:48

killer. Perhaps

33:50

something inside of her snapped and maybe she

33:52

was always this way deep down. Nor

33:55

do I understand the hold she has over

33:57

the members of her murderous neighborhood watch. Is

34:00

she a witch with supernatural powers or

34:02

simply a human monster with

34:05

a cult-like following possessing psychotic

34:07

tendencies? I don't have

34:09

the answers, and I now realize

34:11

that this situation is beyond me. I

34:14

see the way she looks at me, and I know

34:16

it's only a matter of time, before

34:18

she sends her attack dogs to finish what

34:21

they started. Call me a

34:23

coward, if you will, but I don't want to die

34:25

here. My bags

34:27

are packed, and I'm leaving

34:29

tonight. I can only

34:31

pray that I never see Mrs. Jones

34:34

or any of her vicious cult again for

34:36

as long as I live. I

34:52

hope you enjoyed Mrs. Jones' Neighborhood Watch

34:54

by Finn McCool, as performed by yours

34:56

truly. If you enjoyed

34:59

that tale and would love to read

35:01

more from tonight's very talented featured author,

35:04

you can help support him

35:06

by visiting simplyscarypodcast.com slash

35:08

Finn-McKool. Thanks

35:23

again for your support of this program

35:26

and tonight's featured author. Have

35:29

a question. How

35:31

would the Neighborhood Watch feel about a

35:33

for-sale sign? It

35:36

tells me that a lot of houses

35:38

there would have a lot of signs,

35:41

but also say that the previous

35:43

owner vanished under mysterious

35:46

circumstances. But

35:49

despite the best efforts, no community

35:51

is immune from trouble. Why

35:54

even the very elites with their

35:56

country clubs and whatnot can

35:59

still write a letter. into the most difficult

36:01

of families and their members. Take,

36:04

for instance, this little

36:06

tale from Nicky Expisito about

36:09

a particular family that seems

36:11

to cause trouble of the

36:13

most outrageous kind in

36:16

a high-class atmosphere. Without

36:18

further ado, I present to you, no

36:22

longer welcome at the Six

36:24

Seahorse Sands Club. As

36:33

serves in mid-airns, as correspondence

36:36

will serve as official notice, the

36:39

Woodington-Stanley family is hereby banned from

36:41

the Six Seahorse Sands Country Club.

36:44

Dr. Mortimer Woodington-Stanley,

36:46

Mrs. Cornelia Woodington-Stanley,

36:49

their sons Roderick Woodington-Stanley

36:52

and Elliot Woodington-Stanley, as

36:55

well as any and all relations and

36:57

associates, are forbidden from

37:00

club grounds. Club

37:02

management and staff have extended to

37:04

this family the utmost

37:07

patience and grace. We've explained

37:09

the rules and the consequences

37:11

of breaking said rules many

37:13

times, many ways, in

37:15

the Planets of English. Yet still

37:18

the disreputable clan has it set in

37:20

their heads that the rules don't apply

37:22

to them, a delusion

37:24

from which they're incapable of being

37:27

weaned. Enough is enough.

37:30

To avoid conversational unpleasantness and

37:32

to shield the Six

37:35

Seahorse Sands staff from

37:37

an unabating deluge of

37:39

repetitive and benign questions,

37:42

I will catalogue here the

37:44

series of misadventures culminating in

37:46

the Woodington-Stanley's banishment. 1.

37:49

The Van Beek Wallace Wedding

37:53

That's not Mint's words. Wobber

37:55

Van Beek was an unpleasant man.

37:58

In fact, be completely Frank I

38:00

found Mr. Van Beek the most

38:03

distasteful embodiment of simultaneous

38:05

opulence and cheapness. I

38:08

will freely admit I've spent

38:10

many a night reorganizing the

38:12

cutlery closet, simply to avoid

38:14

his diatribes about estate tax

38:17

law. But lest we

38:19

forget, we all accepted Mr. Van

38:22

Beek's stock tips without complaint, and

38:24

were happy to indulge in the

38:26

fine French champagne he brought home

38:29

from Paris nationally, as well as

38:31

the attentions of the leggy French

38:33

beauties whose passage to America and

38:36

enrollment at the finest modeling academies in

38:38

the city, Mr. Van

38:40

Beek kindly funded. And

38:42

during our unfortunate financial bottleneck

38:45

last spring, Mr.

38:47

Van Beek offered the club an

38:49

extremely generous loan to repave the

38:51

tennis courts. Because

38:53

of this generosity, many of you

38:56

were obliged to cheerfully attend the

38:58

wedding of Mr. Van Beek's daughter,

39:00

Madeline, to Mr. Ashton Plank Wallace

39:03

III. Again, I will

39:05

not mince words. The event

39:07

was a grotesque carnival

39:09

of plutocracy. Offensive

39:12

club management and our valued members

39:14

not possessing the financial largesse required

39:16

to, say, hire an African lion

39:20

and giraffe calf from the elite

39:22

rental company displayed in

39:25

cages during cocktail hour. The

39:27

caviar station was wholly unnecessary,

39:29

as were the imported Spanish

39:31

red-jumble prawns, the prime

39:34

cuts of steak butchered on Mr. Van

39:36

Beek's Texas ranch, and the

39:38

exotic sushi prepared by master chefs

39:40

flown in from Tokyo. The

39:43

wedding cake would have been perfectly sumptuous

39:45

without a coating of gold leaf, and

39:48

eighteen tiers for at least five too

39:51

many. I'm sure Mr.

39:53

Van Beek's dress could have arrived

39:55

through channels besides a

39:57

private plane from Milan. And

40:00

a man whose wealth commands imported prawns

40:02

and private planes could

40:04

definitely have insisted less

40:07

forcefully upon a no-tip

40:09

policy for the

40:11

servers and bartenders. But

40:13

I digress. The point

40:15

is, it was during this singular occasion that

40:18

young Mr. Elliot Whittington Stanley

40:20

decided to, let's

40:22

say, entertain the

40:24

327 wedding guests with

40:26

a lively, practical joke. You

40:30

see, young Mr. Whittington Stanley had

40:32

spent his last two afternoons in

40:34

the club teen center, teaching his

40:36

peers a certain Latin incantation he found

40:39

on the internet. Thirty

40:41

minutes into the wedding ceremony and fifteen

40:43

minutes into Miss Van Beek's vows. Madeline

40:47

was a lovely girl, but we can all agree she

40:50

possessed the charisma of a potted

40:52

plant. Elliot stood abruptly

40:54

and waved his hand. In

40:56

response, a cobble of twenty boys rose

40:59

to their feet, and

41:01

in horrendous unison began to

41:03

chat, More

41:05

to I resurge here, more to

41:08

I resurge here, more to

41:10

I resurge here. As

41:13

the boys chanted, they stomped their feet in

41:15

a dreadful rhythm, oblivious to

41:17

the perplexed and mortified exclamations of

41:19

their parents and elders. Exclamations

41:22

gave way to screams as the ground

41:24

began to quake and fissure, and then,

41:26

like dandelions from

41:28

the underworld, skeletal hands burst

41:30

through the perfectly manicured grass.

41:35

Skeletal hands were attached to gray

41:37

sinewy arms, attached to rotting

41:40

torsos closed in mildewy leather

41:42

armor, attached to

41:44

waxy, worm-eaten heads, with

41:46

empty eye sockets glowing blood-red. The

41:50

reanimated draugr army had risen

41:52

from their graves, summoned

41:55

by the chants of Elliot, Whittington

41:57

Stanley, and his delinquent coterie. It

42:00

pains me to recall the rest of

42:02

that nightmarish day. Guests

42:06

screeched and fainted and traveled all over

42:08

each other, destroying the lawn

42:10

with their heels. The

42:12

scent of vomit, urine, and

42:14

feces soon mingled with the

42:16

unimaginable fitter of the

42:18

unearthed Draugr. The

42:20

Draugr army sprayed Miss Van Dijk's

42:23

dress with turtling intestines. The

42:26

grunting, mindless creature shattered the

42:28

Great Hall chandelier, reduced

42:30

the handmade centerpieces to tatters,

42:33

and tore apart the ballroom like a

42:35

natural disaster. They tipped

42:37

a wedding cake into the pond, shattered

42:39

the mermaid ice sculpture, and

42:41

scattered Spanish red jumbo prawns across

42:44

the golf course. For

42:46

weeks afterward, golfers found rotting

42:49

prawns stuffed into holes and discarded

42:51

in sand traps. The

42:53

Draugr army ate the giraffe and

42:56

uncaged the lion, which

42:58

proceeded to chase terrified groomsmen into

43:00

the harbor. Then, somehow,

43:04

the Draugr designated the waitstaff

43:06

an opposing army. The

43:08

undead whores proceeded to corral

43:11

the terrified waiters and bartenders

43:13

and busboys and corner

43:15

them in the bridal suite, where

43:17

the service workers, who weren't

43:19

even approaching adequate compensation to

43:22

face a zombie apocalypse, spent

43:25

a frantic hour until club management

43:27

could gather the host mages and

43:30

a counter-incantation returned the Draugr

43:33

army to their subterranean sleep.

43:36

As expected, the very next day, Mr.

43:39

Wilbur Van Dijk withdrew both his

43:41

club membership and his promised

43:43

loan. To this day

43:46

the tennis court has not been repaved.

43:49

Ladies and gentlemen, I should not need to say

43:51

this, the Draugr army

43:53

that rests eternally under club grounds

43:56

is not a toy. It

43:58

was installed by the family of the founders of the

44:01

six seahorse sands club as a line

44:03

of defense in the event of a

44:05

lower class uprising. It's

44:07

not a prop to be utilized for

44:09

childish pranks. Jacob

44:13

Steinberg's Bar Mitzvah Unfortunately,

44:16

this event began as something of

44:18

a mess. The

44:21

rabbi missed his exit off the

44:23

expressway and drove halfway to the

44:25

Hamptons before correcting his mistake, which

44:27

left guests milling awkwardly about the

44:30

ballroom for an hour before the

44:32

ceremony commenced. Young

44:34

Jacob uncomfortably stuttered his way

44:36

through his Torah recitation for

44:39

what felt like another hour. That poor sweet

44:41

boy was not the brightest candle on the

44:44

chandelier. And then there

44:46

were the matter of the golems. A

44:49

specific minority of invitees, mostly

44:51

the parents of Jacob's friends

44:53

not holding memberships to the

44:55

six seahorse sands club, were

44:57

quite perturbed by the presence of the golems

44:59

in lieu of human waiters. The

45:02

some-foot-tall gray-clay men with their

45:05

featureless bodies, club-like feet, fiery

45:08

eyes and gaping mouths, did

45:10

make for a peculiar sight. But

45:13

Dr. Irving Steinberg had been

45:15

quite insistent on their presence

45:17

for two reasons. Firstly,

45:20

word of the Van Beek wedding

45:22

fiasco made its way around circles

45:24

of catering staff in the city, and

45:27

precious few were eager to accept work at

45:29

the club and risk a

45:31

second occurrence. Secondly, the

45:33

mass of clay automatons would serve as

45:35

a platoon of bodyguards, lest

45:38

Eliot Whittington Stanley get it

45:40

into his head to plan

45:42

another hilarious joke. Next

45:45

time, however, was Eliot's younger brother, Little

45:48

Roderick Whittington Stanley, whose

45:50

shenanigans necessitated intervention. Little

45:54

Roderick's mother, during an awkward hour, the

45:56

assembled patrons waited for the rabbi, and,

45:58

in the morning, the had given her

46:01

younger son a sheet of paper and

46:03

crayons with which to occupy himself. The

46:06

boy proceeded to scribble a funny little

46:08

monster. During the ceremony

46:10

he managed to wander away from his mother

46:13

and somehow climb up the back of a

46:15

golem. Then the

46:17

irrepressible scamp reached his chubby little

46:20

hand into the golem's mouth, removed

46:23

the shem, and replaced it with his

46:25

crumpled doodle. This

46:27

immediately rendered the golem, all seven feet

46:29

of it, built like a

46:32

torpedo. Roderick

46:34

Whittington Stanley's personal man Friday.

46:37

And what prey would a

46:39

seven-year-old boy ask of an

46:41

indestructible man-servant beholding only

46:43

to his whims? The

46:45

golem accosted Miss Susan Wright-Bore, custodian

46:48

of the six seahorse and his

46:50

little crab children's club, snatched

46:53

her wig right off her head and

46:55

displayed it as a grotesque trophy atop

46:57

the South turret. The

47:00

golem raided the kitchen, plowed its way

47:02

into the patisserie, and made

47:04

off with a vat of rose-water ice cream, a

47:07

Boston cream pie, and six

47:09

dozen chocolate chip cookies which it

47:11

proceeded to devour with its young

47:14

charge. Next, the

47:16

golem, little Roderick in tow,

47:18

invaded the esoteric library where

47:21

the pair terrorized visiting scholars

47:23

by hiding behind shelves of

47:25

scrolls, then sprinting out like

47:28

imps, screaming poop

47:30

and fart. When

47:32

the housemages attempted to

47:34

subdue the creature, it placed Roderick

47:36

on its shoulders and

47:38

lettuce pursuers, on a

47:41

wild steeplechase across club grounds, with

47:43

the little boys screaming, Miss

47:45

me! Miss me! Now you've got

47:47

to kiss me! All the while.

47:51

In the end the housemages could do little

47:53

to disarm a creature of clay and stone.

47:56

Steinbergs and their guests simply had

47:58

to make do until— the Sugar

48:00

High wore off, and both

48:02

Roderick Whittington Stanley and his

48:05

commandeered golem curled up asleep

48:07

under the swing sets. Note

48:10

to all club members, please mind

48:12

your children, and

48:15

be considerate of their maturity before bringing them

48:17

to any club event. 3.

48:22

The Six Seahorse Sands Daddy-Daughter

48:24

Cattillion The

48:26

Daddy-Daughter Cattillion is amongst the club's

48:28

most beloved traditions. Young

48:31

girls are offered the opportunity

48:33

to perfect their social graces

48:35

in a kind, nonjudgmental environment,

48:37

shepherded lovingly by a paternal

48:40

figure. If club members

48:42

have no daughters of their own, they are

48:44

still encouraged to attend the Daddy-Daughter Cattillion in

48:47

the company of, say, a young

48:49

female cousin or a favorite niece.

48:52

4. The Six Seahorse Sands Members,

48:54

however, are not permitted

48:56

to escort the reanimated corpse of

48:58

a teenage girl who died

49:00

of consumption in 1835. They

49:02

are, especially, not allowed to

49:04

bring such a guest if

49:07

her lower half has been substituted with

49:10

the legs of a horse, and her body

49:12

has undergone the addition of a scorpion tail.

49:15

These and all similar beings are

49:18

explicitly forbidden from the

49:20

Daddy-Daughter Cattillion, even

49:23

if, as Dr. Mortimer

49:25

Whittington Stanley insisted, the

49:28

Gaslage Mirror was created in

49:30

a member's basement laboratory, named

49:33

Arabella, and claimed as a daughter.

49:36

Here at the Six Seahorse Sands Club, we

49:39

take our commitment to nondiscrimination

49:41

very seriously, but I'm

49:44

sure you'll agree this stunt

49:46

was a bridge too far.

49:49

4. A reminder

49:51

of our policy regarding Kelpie rentals.

49:55

Members are allowed to borrow Kelpies, also

49:57

known as water horses, from

49:59

the club's stables on an hourly

50:01

basis, so long as they remain

50:03

with the creatures on club grounds. However,

50:06

the kelpies must be returned to the stable

50:08

on the North Harbor and checked back in

50:11

with staff. The kelpies

50:13

may not simply be abandoned in their

50:15

South Harbor because the renter, say

50:18

Elliot Whittington Stanley, lost

50:21

interest and couldn't rustle up the wherewithal

50:23

to return the water horse to its

50:25

appropriate home. We

50:27

keep the mermaids in the South Harbor. The

50:30

mermaids are territorial and

50:32

they will perceive a kelpie as

50:34

an invading species and attack. Kelpies

50:37

are also kept away from the

50:40

club's swimming pool. Again,

50:42

please, mind your children. They

50:45

mustn't lead their kelpies to the

50:47

pool because, as Roderick

50:49

Whittington Stanley reasoned, the water horse is

50:52

cold and should be warmed up in

50:54

the heated chlorinated water. The

50:57

kelpies, who keep the pool and

50:59

spa find the presence of a

51:01

water horse, highly offensive

51:03

and, when offended, they

51:05

have a tendency to become feral. The

51:11

Tennis Courts Incident Follow

51:14

this under things I shouldn't need

51:16

to say. Situals are

51:18

not to be drawn on the tennis

51:20

courts. It is

51:23

highly inappropriate and in

51:25

direct violation of club policy to

51:27

summon a spirit with chalk on

51:29

the blacktop. It is

51:32

doubly inappropriate to summon Abaddon,

51:35

the destroyer, to terrorize

51:37

club grounds. Particularly

51:39

if Abaddon, the

51:41

destroyer, is summoned by a

51:44

certain twelve-year-old boy, for instance,

51:46

Elliot Whittington Stanley, because his mom

51:49

says he asked go to

51:51

his tennis lesson even if he doesn't want

51:53

to. Which brings

51:55

us, finally, to the occurrence that

51:57

served as the proverbial final name

52:00

in the coffin of the

52:02

Whittington-Stanley family. Poppy-Stross

52:07

Bachelorette Party The

52:10

very existence of Poppy-Stross's wedding

52:12

serves as conclusive proof for

52:15

that old cliché. There

52:17

is somebody out there for everybody.

52:21

Miss Stross was an attractive enough

52:23

young woman, and she exerted an

52:26

aura of culture and intelligence. But

52:29

her temperament could be best, compared

52:31

to a swarm of bees and her personality

52:34

swung from pretentious to deliberate

52:36

ignorance toward anything that

52:38

contradicted her very high opinion of

52:40

herself. I won't

52:42

dare intimate Clifford Van Dorn married her

52:45

solely to obtain a piece of her

52:47

family's highly profitable chain of seafood restaurants,

52:50

but I will venture young Mr.

52:52

Van Dorn had always been driven

52:54

by ambition at the expense

52:57

of his heart's desire. I

53:00

was admittedly charitable of

53:02

Miss Cornelia Whittington-Stanley, too

53:05

volunteer to act as Miss Stross's matron

53:07

of honor, in Poppy's

53:09

attitude one of her few friends amongst

53:12

the club's young female membership, and

53:14

it was well known that she,

53:16

familiar with the disaster that

53:19

became of the Van Beek Wallace wedding,

53:22

plotted her own nuptials like a general

53:24

plotting a coup. You

53:26

see, Miss Stross spent years

53:28

embroiled in a largely one-sided

53:32

social rivalry with Madeline Van

53:34

Beek, and with Miss

53:36

Van Beek removed from the Six

53:38

Sea Horse Sands Club membership roles, her

53:41

metaphorical throne was left for the taking.

53:45

Miss Stross announced her wedding's theme

53:47

as A Night in the Agora,

53:50

and went to the ancient Greek angle like a

53:52

fox at a mink. The

53:55

long-suffering bridesmaids unsuspecting cousins

53:57

in Shanghai's sorority.

54:00

30 sisters, with Don Salkentogas.

54:03

Mr. and Court Head of Nymphs was

54:05

procured to entertain guests during cocktail hour.

54:09

Madeline Van Beekstraus had been flown in

54:11

from Milan? Well, Papi

54:13

Stroess would fly to the altar on

54:15

the back of a Pegasus. I

54:19

understand, under the circumstances, Mrs.

54:21

Cornelia Whittington Stanley must have been

54:24

saddled with immense pressure to

54:26

plan a bachelorette party fitting of

54:28

Papi Stroess' grand intentions. And

54:31

it's difficult to lay blame at her feet for

54:33

simply attempting to calm her friend to plier

54:36

with liquor and unwind her

54:38

tangled constitution if only

54:40

for a night. But all

54:43

this is no excuse for

54:45

what happened next. To

54:48

host Miss Stroess' bachelorette party,

54:50

thrown in the Lilith wing of the club,

54:52

Mrs. Whittington

54:55

Stanley summoned Dionysus

54:57

himself along

55:00

with his legion of bachi. By

55:03

a quarter to nine the Lord of Revelry

55:05

had assembled young women dancing on tables, darning

55:08

shod after shod of the throne,

55:11

tearing off their dresses and dashing,

55:13

shrieking across the golf course in

55:15

their underclothes. The

55:17

bachi, possessed party girls with long

55:20

claws and sharp teeth, could

55:22

not be sated until each

55:24

and every club member, house

55:26

staff, manager, cook, bartender

55:29

and caddy on the

55:31

premises was fully engaged in the

55:33

debauchery. There

55:35

is an unmittent room here at

55:37

the six seahorse sands club. No

55:40

one is to speak of that night. Those

55:44

who were present, remember little, flashes

55:47

of swimming nude in the harbor,

55:50

arms wrapped around a scaly fishtail,

55:53

seaweed air brushing one's face, breaking

55:55

down the doors of the esoteric library,

55:58

then blue flames. and swaying

56:01

along transfixed as

56:03

horned creatures scaled the walls with

56:05

hoofed feet. Racing

56:07

atop Kelpies and Pegasi,

56:10

and on the back of firebirds

56:12

chasing leprechauns and imps through the

56:14

servant hallways, faint

56:17

recollections of twirling round and

56:19

around under a starlet sky

56:21

hands clasping tentacles. What

56:24

club management not present at night

56:26

remember, vividly, is the

56:28

morning after. Every drop

56:30

of alcohol on club premises had

56:33

been sucked dry. The liquor-room

56:35

was reduced to a pile of broken

56:37

glass. The wine cellar, which

56:39

once boasted the largest collection

56:41

of seventeenth-century Italian vintage in

56:44

the country, had been looted.

56:47

Bridesmaids and golfers and yachters and

56:49

assorted club employees, as

56:52

well as dryads and mermaids and

56:54

fawns and filim lay

56:56

about in various states of consciousness and

56:58

various states of undress. I

57:01

will spare you the description of the

57:04

state of the facilities, but,

57:06

as you all well know, the

57:09

six-sea-horse-ands club was shuttered for

57:11

a month. It took

57:13

the host magies that

57:15

long to close every port

57:18

of Banish every gin to its

57:20

dimensional plain, and sing

57:22

every summoned old god back

57:24

to enchanted sleep. Like

57:27

I said, enough is enough. The

57:30

Whittington Stanley family is incompatible

57:33

with the peaceful, refined culture

57:35

we strive to maintain at

57:38

the six-sea-horse-ands club. By

57:41

this proclamation, they are black-balled

57:43

from the premises until further

57:45

notice. Thank you

57:47

for your continued compliance. Six-sea-horse-ands

57:51

club management. I

58:07

hope you enjoyed, no longer welcome,

58:10

at the Six Seahorse Sands Club

58:12

by Nicky Expisito, as

58:14

performed by yours truly. If

58:18

you enjoyed that tale and would love to

58:20

read more from tonight's very talented featured author,

58:22

you can help support

58:24

him by visiting simplyscarypodcast.com

58:27

slash Nicky Expisito.

58:31

That's simplyscarypodcast.com

58:34

slash N-I-C-K-Y

58:37

dash

58:39

E-X-P-O-S-I-T-O.

58:43

Thanks again for your support of

58:45

this program and tonight's featured author.

58:49

Now before you go, I'd

58:51

also like to take a moment to thank

58:53

you personally for joining me on this episode

58:55

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