# "I Was Hired to Keep an Old Woman Awake for 72 Hours" Creepypasta

An episode of [CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio](https://invisiblenetwork.ai/podcast/1492008134), 15 Apr 2025, 37 min.

Audio: https://dts.podtrac.com/redirect.mp3/api.spreaker.com/download/episode/65576672/i_was_hired_to_keep_an_old_woman_awake_for_72_hours_creepypasta.mp3

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## Transcript

[0:02] Speaker 1: I found the ad while half asleep, hunched over a
[0:05] Speaker 1: greasy diner booth, stealing Wi Fi from the subway next door.
[0:10] Speaker 1: I've been scowling through Craigslist for hours, past the usual
[0:14] Speaker 1: flood of make five hundred dollars a day from home scams,
[0:18] Speaker 1: and I need a strong man to lift my mattress posts.
[0:23] Speaker 1: That night, my bank account was sitting at thirty two
[0:26] Speaker 1: dollars and eleven cents. Rent was two in four days.
[0:31] Speaker 1: The ad was buried between someone offering tower readings and
[0:35] Speaker 1: another listing that just said free dirt caretaker needed seventy
[0:42] Speaker 1: two hours only, no experience necessary, five thousand dollars flat,
[0:50] Speaker 1: no fluff, just that single line, followed by patient must
[0:55] Speaker 1: not fall asleep under any circumstances, all equipment provided. Do
[1:00] Speaker 1: not contact us after the job ends. I read it
[1:07] Speaker 1: three times. I even closed the tab and reopened it,
[1:11] Speaker 1: expecting it to vanish or change into something ordinary, But
[1:16] Speaker 1: it stayed exactly the same. There was an email address,
[1:21] Speaker 1: nothing more. I clicked a reply and sent a message
[1:25] Speaker 1: with one line, I'm interested. The man told me to
[1:32] Speaker 1: meet him at a small cafe off a quiet corner
[1:35] Speaker 1: of town. It was one of those places with mismatched mugs,
[1:40] Speaker 1: hand painted tables, and coffee that tasted burned no matter
[1:44] Speaker 1: what blend you ordered. He sat at the far end
[1:47] Speaker 1: near the window, a black note book in front of
[1:50] Speaker 1: him and a cup of tea that had already gone cold.
[1:55] Speaker 1: He stood up when I approached and shook my hand.
[1:58] Speaker 1: He introduced himselves as Raymond. He wore a dark, well
[2:03] Speaker 1: fitted suit with a coughlin shaped like a spiral. I
[2:08] Speaker 1: couldn't tell if it was a symbol or just a
[2:10] Speaker 1: rich person. Flourish you came quickly, he said, motioning for
[2:17] Speaker 1: me to sit. I asked who I'd be caring for.
[2:22] Speaker 1: He hesitated before answering, my mother, Marjorie. She's very ill.
[2:32] Speaker 1: He stared at me for a long time after saying
[2:34] Speaker 1: her name, then continued, She has an unusual condition. Nothing contagious,
[2:42] Speaker 1: I assure you, but it's neurological. You won't have to
[2:47] Speaker 1: feed her baither or administer medicine. Just keep her awake,
[2:53] Speaker 1: engage her talk, play music, whatever it takes. The moment
[3:00] Speaker 1: she falls asleep, it could worsen. I nodded, and he exhaled.
[3:11] Speaker 1: She was a brilliant woman, he added, taught literature, used
[3:15] Speaker 1: to run a little bookshop downtown before it burned down.
[3:19] Speaker 1: She is not herself any more. She has these spells, fugues, hallucinations,
[3:24] Speaker 1: night terrors. They come for her in a sleep. He
[3:30] Speaker 1: slid a heavy manilla envelope across the table. Inside was
[3:35] Speaker 1: a thick binder titled Protocol, a black key fob, a
[3:40] Speaker 1: prepaid visa card, and a separate envelope with the address
[3:44] Speaker 1: scribbled in sharp handwriting. He also included a list of
[3:48] Speaker 1: items that had already been delivered to the property blackout curtains,
[3:54] Speaker 1: noise machines, stimulant supplements, and a medical grade led therapy LTE.
[4:01] Speaker 1: I asked why he couldn't be there himself. Raymond looked
[4:05] Speaker 1: out the window for a few moments before speaking. She
[4:10] Speaker 1: didn't want me to be the one, said it would
[4:13] Speaker 1: be too hard on me. I've watched the suffer for years.
[4:18] Speaker 1: I agreed to honor that. He turned back toward me.
[4:24] Speaker 1: Three days. You'll stay in the house the entire time,
[4:28] Speaker 1: No visitors, no calls. She has sensitive reactions that outside stimuli.
[4:37] Speaker 1: Everything you need is in the binder. Follow it exactly.
[4:43] Speaker 1: He slid a phone across the table, cheap and prepaid
[4:46] Speaker 1: with one contact, saved AH. Only use this if things
[4:53] Speaker 1: go completely wrong, he said, Otherwise you won't hear from
[4:58] Speaker 1: me again. After the conversation, I had my doubts, but
[5:05] Speaker 1: Raymond had already given me a debit card and a phone,
[5:09] Speaker 1: so I didn't have much to lose. My first destination
[5:14] Speaker 1: was the local grocery store. I'd never even tried staying
[5:18] Speaker 1: up seventy two hours, so I was in dire need
[5:22] Speaker 1: of some energy drinks. The house sat at the top
[5:26] Speaker 1: of a steep hill on the edge of town, which
[5:29] Speaker 1: between two long abandoned properties. I wouldn't have noticed it
[5:34] Speaker 1: if not for the number painted faintly on the mail
[5:37] Speaker 1: box in flaking gold. The pathop was cracked, grass grown
[5:43] Speaker 1: through every seam. A row of wind chimes hung silently
[5:47] Speaker 1: from the porch, though there wasn't a breeze in sight. Inside,
[5:54] Speaker 1: everything was quieter than i'd anticipated, no birds on through
[5:58] Speaker 1: the windows. I noticed that every clock in the house
[6:03] Speaker 1: had stopped, one at twelve o three, one at three fifteen,
[6:08] Speaker 1: another at four twenty four. The windows had thick boarded
[6:13] Speaker 1: nails over them. From the inside, sealed tight light came
[6:18] Speaker 1: from tall standing lamps in every room, all of them
[6:22] Speaker 1: humming faintly. Marjorie sat in a faded recliner in the
[6:28] Speaker 1: living room, beneath the painting of a forest that in
[6:31] Speaker 1: no path through it. Her body looked smaller than it
[6:35] Speaker 1: should have been, curled in on itself, skin like parchment
[6:40] Speaker 1: pulled tight over brittle bone. Her hands trembled on her lap,
[6:45] Speaker 1: but her eyes were sharp, vivid, and almost two aware.
[6:53] Speaker 1: She didn't speak at first. Just watch me cross the
[6:56] Speaker 1: room the way you might watch someone approach your hospital
[6:59] Speaker 1: bed with a needle in hand. I introduced myself and
[7:04] Speaker 1: explained why I was there. Her mouth moved a little,
[7:10] Speaker 1: but no sound came out. I assumed she was mute.
[7:16] Speaker 1: I was halfway through unsipping my duffel bag when I
[7:20] Speaker 1: heard her voice, quiet, dry, but laced with something that
[7:27] Speaker 1: caught in my chest. I heard about you from Raymond,
[7:32] Speaker 1: she said. I hope I won't be too much of
[7:36] Speaker 1: a bother for you. Her voice didn't match her body.
[7:43] Speaker 1: It wasn't weak, not completely. It had something else in it, resignation,
[7:51] Speaker 1: maybe loneliness. I stood there for a second, not sure
[7:56] Speaker 1: what to say. Then I just nodded and smiled. It's
[8:02] Speaker 1: no bother, I told her, I'm here. To help. She
[8:08] Speaker 1: smiled back. The next seventy two hours would be the
[8:14] Speaker 1: longest of my life. The first few hours passed. I
[8:20] Speaker 1: set up the equipment just as the binder instructed. One
[8:24] Speaker 1: of the tall lamps flickered at the edge of the
[8:26] Speaker 1: living room, but I didn't touch it. Raymond had underlined
[8:31] Speaker 1: several warnings in the protocol. Do not move the lights,
[8:37] Speaker 1: do not unplug anything, do not let her close her
[8:40] Speaker 1: eyes for more than fifteen seconds. I double checked the
[8:45] Speaker 1: countdown timer I taped above the kitchen threshold. Seventy one
[8:50] Speaker 1: hours and forty four minutes to go. Marjorie surprised me.
[8:58] Speaker 1: She was sharper than I expected, thoughtful, sometimes even funny.
[9:04] Speaker 1: She told me about a book she tried to write
[9:07] Speaker 1: in her thirties, something about a lighthouse that only appeared
[9:10] Speaker 1: in dreams. She asked where I grew up, what music
[9:14] Speaker 1: I liked, if I believed in anything after death. She
[9:19] Speaker 1: didn't speak constantly, but when she did, she spoke with
[9:23] Speaker 1: a stillness that made every word feel chosen. She didn't
[9:29] Speaker 1: complain when I read outloud or when I played soft music.
[9:33] Speaker 1: Her favorite was the cello, said it reminded her of
[9:37] Speaker 1: something not sad, exactly more worn out. As midnight approached,
[9:46] Speaker 1: I noticed her start to fidget, her hands wrung the
[9:50] Speaker 1: blanket across her knees. Her gaze darted toward the corners
[9:54] Speaker 1: of the room. Do you mind turning that one on
[9:58] Speaker 1: to she asked, pointing to a lamp I hadn't noticed,
[10:03] Speaker 1: tuck behind a dusty bugshelf. I turned it on. She nodded,
[10:09] Speaker 1: but didn't thank me. After a while, she started whispering
[10:15] Speaker 1: under a breath. I leaned closer, thinking she was asking
[10:20] Speaker 1: for water, but it wasn't that. Her voice moved through
[10:26] Speaker 1: the same sentence again and again, barely audible. Stay with me,
[10:33] Speaker 1: Stay with me, Stay with me. It started around two am.
[10:41] Speaker 1: I had stepped into the kitchen for just a second
[10:44] Speaker 1: to heat up water. When I came back, Marjorie's eyes
[10:50] Speaker 1: were closed, her head tilted toward her shoulder, breathing slow.
[10:56] Speaker 1: I panicked, rushed over, clapped my hands name. She jolted
[11:02] Speaker 1: upright with a gasp that echoed through the room. Her
[11:05] Speaker 1: eyes were wide filled with fresh panic. I didn't mean to,
[11:11] Speaker 1: she said, I didn't mean to. I just please don't
[11:16] Speaker 1: let it out. Before I could ask what she meant,
[11:21] Speaker 1: I noticed the lamp beside the bugshelf had gone out
[11:26] Speaker 1: completely dead. I touched it and felt a thin line
[11:31] Speaker 1: of heat coming off the base. Something else caught my eye.
[11:39] Speaker 1: The shadows in the corners had shifted. They seemed to
[11:42] Speaker 1: ripple ever so slightly when I looked directly at them.
[11:47] Speaker 1: They didn't retreat with the light. They moved when Marjorie blinked.
[11:52] Speaker 1: When she closed her eyes again, even for a moment,
[11:56] Speaker 1: the darkest parts of the room pulsed like there were
[11:59] Speaker 1: breathing with her. I lifted the edge of the rug
[12:04] Speaker 1: beneath her recliner to fix a frayed corner. That was
[12:09] Speaker 1: when I saw them, thin black streaks burnt into the hardwood,
[12:16] Speaker 1: curving into spirals. It wasn't smoke damage. It looked older
[12:21] Speaker 1: than the wood itself, buried into the grain. Marjorie reached
[12:27] Speaker 1: out and grabbed my wrist. Don't look too long, she said.
[12:34] Speaker 1: It notices when you pay attention. I wanted to leave
[12:41] Speaker 1: the room, just to breathe, but I stayed. I pulled
[12:46] Speaker 1: a stool closer to her chair and sat beside her,
[12:49] Speaker 1: rubbing my face with both hands. She leaned her head
[12:54] Speaker 1: back and stared at the ceiling. If I fall asleep,
[12:59] Speaker 1: she whispered, it gets out. It's always been with me
[13:04] Speaker 1: since I was a child. It waits until I slip,
[13:09] Speaker 1: and then it starts cloring. She didn't say much for
[13:15] Speaker 1: the next hour, just stared, glassy eyed toward the blank
[13:19] Speaker 1: television screen. I tried to distract her with conversation, but
[13:25] Speaker 1: she ignored me. Then, out of nowhere, she began speaking again,
[13:33] Speaker 1: this time to herself more than to me. My mother
[13:38] Speaker 1: died in that same chair, she said. She told me
[13:43] Speaker 1: the truth right before she passed, said it lived in
[13:46] Speaker 1: her dreams, that it would move up to me. Next,
[13:50] Speaker 1: said I would understand when it happened, and I did.
[13:55] Speaker 1: I woke up screaming that night. I couldn't even remember
[13:59] Speaker 1: what I dreamed, but it was there in my head,
[14:04] Speaker 1: at the foot of my bed, in the seams of
[14:07] Speaker 1: the walls. Her voice wavered, but she kept talking. I
[14:14] Speaker 1: never had children. I never wanted to pass this thing on.
[14:19] Speaker 1: I thought if I just stayed alone, if I just
[14:22] Speaker 1: endured it, then it would die with me. But I
[14:26] Speaker 1: was wrong. It grows stronger. I feel it every time
[14:31] Speaker 1: I close my eyes. Her hands trembled, not from age,
[14:38] Speaker 1: from fear, I could feel it in the air. I've
[14:43] Speaker 1: kept it trapped by never really sleeping, never letting it
[14:47] Speaker 1: root itself deep. But I'm no longer the young, strong
[14:52] Speaker 1: person I was before. I've grown old and weak, and
[14:57] Speaker 1: it knows it's what me lose. She looked up at me, then,
[15:05] Speaker 1: her eyes shining with tears. I just do not want
[15:09] Speaker 1: this to curse anybody else. I didn't know what to say.
[15:16] Speaker 1: I reached out, unsure if she would take my hand,
[15:20] Speaker 1: but she did. Her grip was frail but steady. She
[15:26] Speaker 1: wept out of grief and exhaustion. I stayed quiet. I
[15:32] Speaker 1: haven't known peace since so long, she said, just the
[15:38] Speaker 1: waiting and the struggling. She didn't ask for comfort, didn't
[15:44] Speaker 1: want to be told he was going to be all right.
[15:48] Speaker 1: She knew better than I did. Outside, the wind picked
[15:53] Speaker 1: up for the first time since I arrived. One of
[15:56] Speaker 1: the boards on the window creaked. Something in the wall
[16:00] Speaker 1: shifted too slow to be the house settling. Marjorie didn't flinch,
[16:08] Speaker 1: She just whispered again, stay with me, and I did.
[16:21] Speaker 1: The following day passed without a hitch. The energy drinks
[16:25] Speaker 1: were working, but I could tell sleep was starting to
[16:29] Speaker 1: creep in However, the second night was worse in every way.
[16:36] Speaker 1: My head throbbed from the constant buzz of the standing
[16:39] Speaker 1: lamps and caffeine. My vision swam in and out of clarity.
[16:44] Speaker 1: Every blink felt heavier than the last, like my own
[16:48] Speaker 1: body was rooting for failure. Marjorie hadn't slept either, not
[16:54] Speaker 1: for more than a few seconds at a time. Her
[16:58] Speaker 1: eyes were bloodshot, voice more brittle than before. She had
[17:03] Speaker 1: started to mutter nonsense. Sometimes it sounded like poetry. Other
[17:08] Speaker 1: times her words strung together with a logic that made
[17:12] Speaker 1: my stomach tighten. She spoke in voices that weren't hers.
[17:18] Speaker 1: A deep, gutural tone slipped out once, so low I
[17:22] Speaker 1: felt it in my bones. Then later her mouth twisted
[17:26] Speaker 1: into a white grin, and she giggled with the voice
[17:29] Speaker 1: of a little girl. Are you scared yet? She asked,
[17:36] Speaker 1: or what I thought was her. She didn't remember saying it.
[17:43] Speaker 1: By three thirty a m. I'd started to hear things upstairs.
[17:48] Speaker 1: There was no second floor, just an attic. I had
[17:52] Speaker 1: not dared to check. The footsteps weren't horrid or loud,
[17:57] Speaker 1: but they paced back and forth. I knew better than
[18:02] Speaker 1: to call out three minutes later, every light in the
[18:08] Speaker 1: house shut off at once, The buzz died, the air
[18:13] Speaker 1: turned cold. I didn't move, couldn't. The only sound left
[18:21] Speaker 1: was Marjorie's breathing, slow and uncertain, and the soft creak
[18:26] Speaker 1: of wood under something heavy. She looked at me through
[18:31] Speaker 1: the darkness. Her face glowed faintly in the absence of light,
[18:36] Speaker 1: not from any lamp or candle. Her eyes had taken
[18:40] Speaker 1: on a sheen, faintly reflective, barely visible, like something was
[18:45] Speaker 1: seeing through her. Marjorie closed her eyes for a single moment,
[18:52] Speaker 1: and before I could think to wake her up, something
[18:55] Speaker 1: caught my attention. The thing appeared above us, clinging to
[19:01] Speaker 1: the ceiling like it had always been there. Its limbs
[19:06] Speaker 1: didn't bend in the way they should have. There were
[19:09] Speaker 1: too many of them, long and thin, like someone had
[19:13] Speaker 1: built it out of smoke and bone. It watched Marjorie
[19:17] Speaker 1: with a stillness I couldn't match. It didn't breathe, it
[19:21] Speaker 1: didn't twitch. Its head tilted slowly as her eyelids began
[19:26] Speaker 1: to droop. The edges of its body glimmered faintly in
[19:30] Speaker 1: the dark, a suggestion of shape, a ripple through the air.
[19:37] Speaker 1: I tried to shout, but the air caught in my throat.
[19:41] Speaker 1: All I could do was reach for her hand and squeeze.
[19:46] Speaker 1: She gasped awake, eyes wide and wet, and the thing
[19:50] Speaker 1: above us twitched once, then receded it slightly. It didn't disappear,
[19:57] Speaker 1: it just shrank back toward the corner where the ceiling
[20:00] Speaker 1: met the far wall. Marjorie stared into the black with me,
[20:06] Speaker 1: watching it crawl higher into the dark. That's what it does,
[20:12] Speaker 1: she whispered, though I'm surprised you can see it. Her
[20:18] Speaker 1: voice was her own again. We sat like that for
[20:22] Speaker 1: a long time, silent except for our breath. The air
[20:27] Speaker 1: fell thick, heavy, with a presence I couldn't name. The
[20:33] Speaker 1: shadows were heavier now. The floor beneath my feet pulsed
[20:37] Speaker 1: faintly with the rhythm. Around four am, the house changed again.
[20:46] Speaker 1: I dozed off only for a second. My head dipped
[20:50] Speaker 1: forward and snapped up with a jolt. Marjorie was still awake,
[20:56] Speaker 1: but her expression had changed. Her eyes were on focused,
[21:00] Speaker 1: and her lips moved slowly. I can give you peace,
[21:06] Speaker 1: she said, No more pain, no more nights alone. You
[21:11] Speaker 1: want out, don't you. I can get you out. I
[21:18] Speaker 1: didn't reply. I just shook my head. Her face contorted again.
[21:25] Speaker 1: You've always wanted more, she said, more than what life
[21:29] Speaker 1: gave you. I could make people listen. I could make
[21:34] Speaker 1: you known. The voice was wrong. It wasn't Marjorie anymore.
[21:41] Speaker 1: It was deeper, older, and filled with something that didn't
[21:45] Speaker 1: understand what it meant to be human. You want money done,
[21:52] Speaker 1: you want fame easy, You want to be remembered. I
[21:57] Speaker 1: can make you the only name they speak. I stood up.
[22:04] Speaker 1: I felt sick, dizzy. The room was spinning, but I
[22:08] Speaker 1: grabbed the edge of the chair and forced myself steady.
[22:13] Speaker 1: Mardra's hands shut out towards me again. I didn't pull away.
[22:18] Speaker 1: I knelt beside her. No, I said, she stays awake.
[22:25] Speaker 1: She finishes this, we both do. The shadows writhed at
[22:33] Speaker 1: the edge of the room, recoiling like a tide. Forced
[22:37] Speaker 1: to retreat, I stayed beside her, holding her hand, reading
[22:42] Speaker 1: anything I could find. I told her about my mother,
[22:47] Speaker 1: about the first time I snuck out of school, about
[22:50] Speaker 1: the time I broke my arm falling out of a tree.
[22:54] Speaker 1: I didn't stop when my voice gave out. I played
[22:58] Speaker 1: music through my phone and let her rest ahead on
[23:01] Speaker 1: my shoulder. She didn't speak for hours, but as the
[23:06] Speaker 1: sun crawled toward the horizon, she smiled, a real smile,
[23:13] Speaker 1: a tired one, but real. No one's ever helped me
[23:19] Speaker 1: carry it before. She said that smile broke me more
[23:26] Speaker 1: than anything else in that house, because I knew how
[23:30] Speaker 1: rare it had to be. She closed her eyes for
[23:34] Speaker 1: a second. I nudged her gently. She stirred, still with
[23:41] Speaker 1: me for now. On the last day, Marjorie's body had
[23:47] Speaker 1: started to give up. There was no other way to
[23:51] Speaker 1: describe it. Her words slurred and dragged. Half a sentences
[23:56] Speaker 1: faded out before they ended. Her hands clenched and unclenched,
[24:01] Speaker 1: the blanket draped over her legs, each movement slower than
[24:05] Speaker 1: the last. She coughed hard enough to double over, and
[24:10] Speaker 1: when she wiped her mouth, a thick streak of black
[24:13] Speaker 1: fluid clung to the back of her hand. It smelled
[24:18] Speaker 1: like iron and burnt oil. I moved to help her
[24:22] Speaker 1: sit upright again, but her eyes caught mine with a quiet,
[24:27] Speaker 1: trembling urgency. In the drawer, she said, barely more than
[24:33] Speaker 1: a breath, whole away table, right side bottom. I did
[24:40] Speaker 1: what she said. My legs were trembling under me. As
[24:44] Speaker 1: I crossed to the hallway. The shadows shifted again when
[24:48] Speaker 1: I moved. They didn't follow me, but they watched. I
[24:53] Speaker 1: could feel it behind my ears, the quiet judgment of
[24:58] Speaker 1: something waiting for the fire final piece to fall. The
[25:03] Speaker 1: drawer stuck a little swollen from age. I yanked it
[25:07] Speaker 1: harder and it came loose. Inside was a dusty leather
[25:13] Speaker 1: photo album, cracked down the spine. I carried it back
[25:18] Speaker 1: to her and sat on the floor beside a chair.
[25:23] Speaker 1: We opened it together. The pictures were faded but intact,
[25:30] Speaker 1: black and white shots of a young woman in a
[25:33] Speaker 1: flowered dress standing near a broken fence, Marjorie. Her eyes
[25:40] Speaker 1: were brighter than her mouth, softer the edges. She stood
[25:46] Speaker 1: with a woman I assumed to be a mother, tall
[25:49] Speaker 1: and stiff, a distant look edged permanently across her face.
[25:55] Speaker 1: The two of them stood apart in every photo, never touching,
[26:00] Speaker 1: the mother, always near the shadows. There were no children
[26:06] Speaker 1: in any of the images, no friends, no wedding dress,
[26:10] Speaker 1: just the same woman, aging slowly across decades, always alone.
[26:18] Speaker 1: She pointed to one photo with a shaking finger. It
[26:22] Speaker 1: showed her sitting on the floor in front of a
[26:25] Speaker 1: boarded up window. There was a shape behind her, just
[26:30] Speaker 1: barely visible through the gap in the slats. Long fingers
[26:35] Speaker 1: stretched vertically holding on from the outside. No face, no body,
[26:42] Speaker 1: just the idea of someone watching. It showed up right
[26:48] Speaker 1: after this was taken, she whispered. I tore the film
[26:52] Speaker 1: up that night, buried the negatives, but it didn't matter.
[27:00] Speaker 1: Saed at the photo and felt my jaw tightened, My
[27:04] Speaker 1: voice cracked when I spoke. How did you live like
[27:08] Speaker 1: this for so long? She smiled, with her eyes closed.
[27:15] Speaker 1: I didn't live. I waited. I've almost made it to
[27:21] Speaker 1: the end. I'm almost. Her voice faltered again, her jaw trembled,
[27:29] Speaker 1: her wet sound gurgled deep in her throat. She tilted
[27:33] Speaker 1: her head back and drew in a sharp, rattling breath.
[27:38] Speaker 1: The countdown in the kitchen time I hit fifty nine minutes,
[27:41] Speaker 1: twelve seconds. I think it's time, she said. I feel
[27:48] Speaker 1: it in my ribs. I knelt beside her, my hands
[27:54] Speaker 1: wrapped around hers, cold and papery. Thank you, she whispered,
[28:02] Speaker 1: I can feel it coming. Her head leaned back and
[28:06] Speaker 1: her eyes fluttered shut for the last time. The house
[28:12] Speaker 1: went still, not just quiet, but completely still. The air
[28:19] Speaker 1: stopped moving, the walls no longer creaked, even the wind
[28:24] Speaker 1: outside held its breath. I reached for my phone, hands shaking,
[28:30] Speaker 1: and dialed nine one one. I gave the address, said
[28:34] Speaker 1: there had been a death. Tried to explain, but couldn't
[28:38] Speaker 1: find the words. They asked if I was alone. That
[28:46] Speaker 1: was when a body cracked. It started with a small
[28:51] Speaker 1: pop at the base of her neck. Then a spine shifted.
[28:55] Speaker 1: Her shoulder blade rolled unnaturally forward. Her wrists twisted sideways
[29:01] Speaker 1: and bent backward. Her jaw fell open too far, her
[29:06] Speaker 1: head lolling as if disconnected from the rest of her
[29:10] Speaker 1: I dropped the phone. The operator kept talking. I heard
[29:14] Speaker 1: her asking me to respond, but I couldn't. I was frozen.
[29:21] Speaker 1: Then Marjorie moved. She rose slowly, joined snapping as her
[29:29] Speaker 1: limbs unfolded the wrong way. She dropped to all fours
[29:33] Speaker 1: and stayed there for a moment, her breath low and rattling.
[29:38] Speaker 1: Her face curled into something that looked like a smile,
[29:41] Speaker 1: but had no warmth. She launched forward. I barely rolled
[29:47] Speaker 1: out of the way in time. I hit the floor
[29:50] Speaker 1: hard and scrambled to my feet. She moved faster, than
[29:54] Speaker 1: I thought possible. Limbs jerking as if pulled by strings,
[29:59] Speaker 1: her nails claw across the hardwood, tearing through the rug
[30:02] Speaker 1: and into the boards beneath. I ran down the hallway,
[30:06] Speaker 1: and the door slammed behind me. One by one, every
[30:11] Speaker 1: door in the house slam shut with a thunderous bang.
[30:16] Speaker 1: The walls groaned and seemed to stretch. A hallway that
[30:19] Speaker 1: had once led to a linen closet now spiraled to
[30:23] Speaker 1: the right, deeper into the house. I stumbled into a
[30:27] Speaker 1: bedroom I didn't remember being there. The furniture inside was
[30:31] Speaker 1: nailed to the ceiling. Gravity had twisted behind me. Marjory laughed,
[30:40] Speaker 1: not with their own voice, with several, some shrieked, some crooned.
[30:48] Speaker 1: One voice matched mine exactly, calling out in a perfect imitation,
[30:55] Speaker 1: help me, She said, in my own voice, I'm still here,
[30:59] Speaker 1: Please don't leave me. I slammed the door and backed away.
[31:05] Speaker 1: The floor thudded as she crept closer. Her feet didn't
[31:08] Speaker 1: land with weight, they landed with intent. I shoved myself
[31:15] Speaker 1: into the closet and pressed the door shut. My breath
[31:19] Speaker 1: tore in and out of my lungs. I could hear
[31:23] Speaker 1: her sniffing outside as slow, deep in hail, then another closer.
[31:31] Speaker 1: I bit my tongue to keep from sobbing. Then I
[31:35] Speaker 1: remembered the phone, the cheap, prepaid phone Raymond had given me.
[31:41] Speaker 1: I dug through my pocket, fingers slipping, and pulled it out.
[31:46] Speaker 1: The screen was dim, the contact still read AH. My
[31:53] Speaker 1: thumb hovered over the button. Then I pressed it. The
[32:00] Speaker 1: door creaked open a few inches. Her fingers curled around
[32:04] Speaker 1: the frame. They weren't hands anymore. The bones had shifted
[32:09] Speaker 1: under the skin, forming long, hooked points that scraped softly
[32:14] Speaker 1: across the wood. I couldn't breathe. I pressed my back
[32:19] Speaker 1: to the far corner of the closet, phone still clutched
[32:22] Speaker 1: in my hand. The line went silent, no voice, no answer.
[32:30] Speaker 1: Then the sound of breaking glass filled the house. A
[32:34] Speaker 1: window shattered from inside the room, not splintered or cracked,
[32:39] Speaker 1: completely obliterated wood crunched. A gust of air swept through
[32:45] Speaker 1: the walls and pulled the shadows backward. Heavy footsteps echoed
[32:50] Speaker 1: across the floor, not the skittering limbs of whatever Marjorie
[32:54] Speaker 1: had become. I shoved the closet door open and stumbled out.
[33:01] Speaker 1: Raymond stood in the middle of the hallway, shoulders squared
[33:06] Speaker 1: dressed in the same dark suits from the cafe. There
[33:11] Speaker 1: wasn't a scratch on him. His eyes were locked unto
[33:14] Speaker 1: the thing wearing Marjorie's body as it came bounding through
[33:18] Speaker 1: the hallway ceiling, limbs bending around the corners. He raised
[33:23] Speaker 1: the weapon that I had no words for. He didn't
[33:27] Speaker 1: look forwarded or manufactured. He looked grown, smooth and bone white,
[33:33] Speaker 1: with grooves that shifted and rotated along the barrel. Each
[33:37] Speaker 1: ring pulsed as if alive. He fired once. The sound
[33:45] Speaker 1: it made didn't belong to this world. It was soft
[33:49] Speaker 1: at first, like someone dragging stone across wet cloth. Then
[33:55] Speaker 1: it expanded into a shriek deeper than sound, something that
[33:59] Speaker 1: made my ears ache and my eyes blur. The creature
[34:03] Speaker 1: twisted in mid air. Marjorie's body convulsed and peeled backward,
[34:09] Speaker 1: limbs retracting, face collapsing into itself. The thing inside her
[34:14] Speaker 1: screamed as it pulled away from her, skin, unraveling in
[34:18] Speaker 1: ribbons of smoke and bone. It dissolved into thick black
[34:23] Speaker 1: mist that clung to the ceiling before vanishing into the boards.
[34:31] Speaker 1: Silence followed, real silence, not the kind we had suffered
[34:37] Speaker 1: through all night. This was absence. The room exhaled. I
[34:45] Speaker 1: collapsed against the wall, my legs unable to hold me.
[34:51] Speaker 1: Raymond approached calmly and knelt beside me. You did well,
[34:57] Speaker 1: he said, his voice steady. A I was tired. We
[35:02] Speaker 1: needed her exhausted, fully exposed. It can't hide anymore. You
[35:08] Speaker 1: weakened it. I stared at him, throat raw, body trembling.
[35:15] Speaker 1: He opened his jacket and pulled out a sealed envelope,
[35:19] Speaker 1: thick heavy. He handed it to me, the full five,
[35:25] Speaker 1: as promised, no taxes. I didn't take it right away.
[35:32] Speaker 1: My hands shook as I reached for it. My eyes
[35:35] Speaker 1: drifted to the hallway behind him, when nothing remained of
[35:39] Speaker 1: what had been Marjorie, not even ash. This wasn't just
[35:46] Speaker 1: about mercy, Raymond said, standing, it was containment. He turned
[35:55] Speaker 1: toward the broken window, already reaching into his pocket for
[35:59] Speaker 1: something else, a small metallic object that blinked red once
[36:04] Speaker 1: before going still. I pushed myself up. Who are you,
[36:13] Speaker 1: I asked. He paused at the edge of the frame,
[36:18] Speaker 1: silhouetted against the dark outside. He looked back over his shoulder,
[36:24] Speaker 1: and for the first time, I thought I saw something
[36:28] Speaker 1: behind his expression. You should get some sleep, he said,

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