WEBVTT
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He followed a strange lay line into the dark and
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found a castle that shouldn't exist, a beautiful stranger begging
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for help, and a monster problem that was all fun
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in games until it wasn't. Now alive or dead. Someone
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will be the fool.
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What's that you want to be scared? Come with me?
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He will experience tales of over over ghosts and it
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is not recommended for the weeded art listeners in the
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dark park. It's more fun that way way way. This
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is Weekly Speaking.
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Hello, my spookys. It's Wednesday, and you know what that means.
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It's time for a little spooky in your weekly I'm
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your host and narrator, Enrique Kuto, and tonight we have
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quite the story for you, because well it's April Fool's
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Day and all of our guards are up. But perhaps
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we should be even more on alert than we are.
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But before we get to that, I want to say
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thank you all so much for joining us here at
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Weekly Spooky. We bring you something scary every single week,
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well multiple times a week, and we're happy to have
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you here. People who believe that Halloween is not just
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a once a year kind of gig. It's every single week,
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So thank you so much for joining us, and if
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you're new here, make sure you say subscribe on your
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favorite podcast app and leave us a five star rating
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to let other spookies know they're in the right place.
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And if you love what we're doing and want to
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support us directly and get bonus episodes as a reward,
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head to weeeklyspooky dot com slash join For as little
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as one dollar a month. You get two bonus episodes
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every month and over five years of exclusive creepy pasta readings, audiobooks,
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and so much more at Weeklyspooky dot Com slash Join.
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But now, as for tonight, April Fool's Day is supposed
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to be all fun and games, a harmless trick, a
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nervous laugh, a moment of panic that melts away the
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second you realize someone got you good. But what happens
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when the joke doesn't end. What happens when the road
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is too dark, the castle is too real, the smiling
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faces wait inside seem like they know something you don't. Tonight,
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a man chasing strange mysteries finds himself lured off the
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highway and into a nightmare. Dressed like a prank, a
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beautiful stranger begs for help, a monster waits below, and
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every answer only makes the whole thing more complicated, because
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the scariest part isn't being laughed at, it's realizing you
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were never in on the joke at all. Fooled you
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by Douglas Waltz. I study lay lines. For those of
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you that are ignorant of this particular phenomenon, let me
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fill you in. Lay lines were initially lines between objects
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of significance like Stoneha and the Great Pyramids of Giza.
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Any self respecting scientists will give you a funny look
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if you mention them, but they are real. I began
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my studies back in the early seventies, and it wasn't
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long before I set about proving that North America had
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its own lay lines. Using a device I fashioned myself,
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I traveled the highways and byways searching for these ever
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elusive lines of a power not of this world. Twenty
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years later, I discovered a huge lay line that occurred
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between the state lines of Indiana and Ohio. It shot
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straight up through the middle of Michigan, into the Upper
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Peninsula and headed for the North Pole. I have a
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theory that the magnetic North Pole had something to do
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with the sheer power of that particular lay line. So
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I set about mapping the line, and weeks later, just
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after I had passed Lancing the state Capitol and through
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Grayciat and Clinton Township, that I found myself in Isabella
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County and the lay line was acting strange. You see,
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lay lines are painfully straight, little to no variance to
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where it's going, which is why when it made a
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sudden ninety degree turn, I was flabbergasted. Lay lines do
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not ever do that. Of course, that fact didn't stop
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it from doing exactly that, So like any good scientist,
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I followed the line. It started to get dark outside,
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and the road that the line was near became nothing
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more than a glorified cowpath. But even with the dark
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of night, there was still plenty of time left in
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the day, so I continued on, feeling every bump on
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the road in my poor back. Then the light from
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my high beams caught a glimpse of something, a small
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turn off of the road that led to it was
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a castle, an actual castle that had no business being there.
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Curiosity got the better of me, and I took the turn.
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I half expected lightning to illuminate the stone structure. As
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I got closer and closer, it really looked like the
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castle from bram Stoker's Dracula, the Francis Ford Coppola version.
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I pulled up to a pair of gigantic wooden doors,
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grabbed my device and a flashlight, and got out of
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the car to see if I could get into the castle.
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That was when I heard a cry for help. I
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turned to see who could be making that noise, and well,
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the day was full of surprises. A tall, buxome woman
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in a white blouse down at the shoulders and a
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long flowing green skirt. That's right, I was being approached
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by an extra from a hammer horror film. Her chest
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managed to defy gravity in impossible fashion, and seconds later
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she slammed into me her ample bosom, making a comfortable
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cushion as she sank into my arms and swooned, nearly fainting.
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What seems to be the problem, young lady, Oh master,
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you have arrived in the nick of time. Soon the
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creature will leave its sleeping place and lay waste to
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the village. Sure, why not? After all, this anachronistic dwelling
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is on a major lay line. What the sudden blank
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look told me that my terrible pun had fallen flat.
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Never mind, so monsters, you say, yes, Master, the undead
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scourge has plagued my village for decades. Now you have
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arrived to help us destroy the vampire. I took a
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quick glance around for this village she kept referring to,
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and there was no sign of it at all. And
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now she's telling me there's a vampire. I may believe
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in some odd thing, but vampires aren't one of them.
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Bigfoot I believe in, but I draw the line at vampires. Come, Master,
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I will take you to the dungeons where his coffin
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dust lie dost who says dust anymore? And now she
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expects me to kill something I don't even believe in.
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But her sweater puppies pressing against my chest were making
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it hard to focus on anything. Won't I need something
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to kill this vampire? With wooden steak or something. Yes, Master,
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all you require is in the castle. Isn't the vampire
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in there? Yes? Master, deep in the dungeon, sleeping the
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sleep of the dead. Plenty of time to complete your task.
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Then she got closer and wiggled seductively as she looked
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up at me. With her large, round eyes. Then will
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come your reward. My heart skipped a beat and I
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coughed a reward. Huh, okay, let's go point the way
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to this dastardly vampire. She led me to a smaller
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door that was part of one of the large ones.
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The inside of the castle was gloomy, with a few
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torches in wall sconces. Then I heard the clipping noise
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of leather heels on stone floors. I braced myself as
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from out of the shadows came a man with a
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black top hat, dressed in the finest Victorian era suit
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I had ever seen. Large pipe was balanced between his lips.
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As he approached, I turned to look at the girl
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who had talked me into this nonsense. I thought you
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said he was sleeping. Her face became a mask of
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confusion and quickly turned into one of glee as she laughed.
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The high pitched cackling echoed throughout the room. Oh he's
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not the vampire. He's my father. We live in the castle,
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you do, I thought you lived in the village. Village.
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What village? She gave me the confused look again, you
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know what? Never mind, so dad, you seem fit enough
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to handle the vampire? Why am I the one doing
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the dirty work? Here? A side glance at the beautiful
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maiden told me why. But I sure as hell wasn't
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going to tell tall, dark and creepy that. Ah, the
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lank gentleman began in a deep baritone voice. I'm afraid
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I wouldn't be much help. You wouldn't, would you? A?
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Why pray? Tell? Is that? With a totally serious straight face,
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he said, simply terrified of the things. The mere sight
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of them sends me screaming through the castle looking for refuge.
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You're telling me you can't kill this bloodsucker because you're
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afraid of it. Don't you live here? That's true, but
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it lives in the dungeon, and my quarters are upstairs.
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I keep the door tightly locked. Good for you, Pops.
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Your room don't got any windows? Certainly? What stops the
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vampire from coming in through the window? What do you mean?
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Does your vampire turn into a bat? Oh? Yes, all
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the time. It can be quite annoying. Drusilla is afraid
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he'll get stuck in her hair. Drusilla? Who's Drusilla? That's me,
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the village girl with the amazing talents. Piped up named
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to match the face. I thought to myself, whatever I
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said louder than I intended to, back to the bat,
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can't it just fly into the window of your room?
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The man's face dropped a foot at the question. Oh my,
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I guess I hadn't considered that. I'm amazed that he
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hasn't drained you both dry. Let's get this over with, Drusilla.
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Where's the vampire killing equipment you mentioned? She led me
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by the hand to a large chest on a table.
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I opened it and couldn't prevent the gasp of amazement.
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This box was packed with vampire killing on the brain.
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There was the classic steak and mallet, a small bottle
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that could only be holy water, and a large crucifix.
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I put the bottle in my front left pocket and
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put the crucifix in my back left pocket. The heft
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of it told me it was probably solid gold. After
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this all was over, I was keeping that for my troubles.
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That and a roll in the hay with Drusilla, and
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I figured that I would be pretty well square with
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these nut jobs. We left Dad behind and headed for
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the dungeon. I had never seen so many cobwebs in
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my life. I grabbed a torch and used the fire
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to clear a path to the bowels of the castle.
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I was astonished at how much it looked like the
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dungeon from the Dracula with Bela Lagosi. It even had
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an armadillo. I never understood what a Texas armadillo was
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doing in a Transylvanian castle, or a Michigan one, for
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that matter. Finally we reached the coffin, on an ornate
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pedestal in the middle of the room. I carefully opened
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the lid and stood dumbfounded for a moment. Lying in
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the coffin was a swarthy man with black pants and
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a billowy blue shirt opened at the chest. Nice of
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him to make the job easier with the open shirt,
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but it just seemed wrong. Sure, who am I to
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tell a vampire how to dress? I really expected something formal,
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like a tuxedo, you know, Bela Lagosi. I thought. I
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saw him begin to stir, and there's no time like
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the present. So I placed the point of the steak
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on his chest and hammered away, driving it in at
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least six inches. Six inches seemed more than adequate. Then
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the dungeon was filled with an unearthly howl. I didn't
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know what to expect. This was my first time killing
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a vampire, after all, but nothing could have prepared me
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for what was in the coffin. The man was grinning
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and kind of fiddling with the steak for a brief
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moment before yanking it out bloodless and threw it across
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the room. Pretty sure he hit the armadillo with it.
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I had no words for this situation. Speechless, the man
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in the coffin asked, I nodded, Well, you see, I'm
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not a vampire. I'm a werewolf. A what a were wolf?
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A lichenthrope? If you prefer and wooden steaks do nothing
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to a were wolf? You bring any silver bullets, No, sir,
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I did not. I seem to have been misinformed. I
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glared at Drusilla, who wouldn't make eye contact with me.
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So no vampire. Oh sure, May I ask where he
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might be? I can see if I can manage to
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get that steak away from that armadillo. The werewolf patted
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his belly and grinned. I ate him, You ate him?
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I exclaimed, Yeah, see, werewolves and vampires are mortal enemies. Well,
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immortal enemies, and you ate him. The werewolf nodded vigorously,
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and that was when I noticed that he was becoming
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harrier by the minute. If I was going to get
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out of here, I needed to I needed to come
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up with a plan. Then the werewolf gestured for me
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to come closer. I have no idea why, but then
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he leaned into my ear and whispered, April fool. I
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stood up and felt the fetid breath against my neck
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and knew the vampire was right behind me, leaning in
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for the kill. Then a loud, frying sound filled the air.
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Smoke whirled behind me. The werewolf's eye bugged out in amazement,
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and Drusilla screamed. It seemed that the large golden crucifix
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in my back pocket had come in to direct contact
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with the vampire's nether regions. What have you done, Drusilla
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screamed and rushed to the vampire's side. The werewolf started
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laughing again. I should have run, it was the perfect time,
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but I had to know. I stared at Drusilla. She
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spilled her guts. Okay, so I may have lied. My
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poor sweet baby needs to eat, and what red blooded
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man can resist these milk cannons? She looked down. So
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did I. Then, with a flash, I walked towards the
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two of them, thrust the crucifix into the vampire pants