Oct. 2, 2025

Ep.351 – In the Witch House Walls - Haunted House Halloween Horror Story

Ep.351 –  In the Witch House Walls - Haunted House Halloween Horror Story
Halloween is here, and so are the horror stories you’ve been waiting for. Tonight’s feature-length episode delivers one of the season’s darkest scary stories, steeped in haunted house chills and mature themes.

When Freddy and Odalys try to turn an abandoned funeral parlor into apartments, they discover the walls are stuffed with mummified animals, curses, and whispers that never stop. As they lean into spooky season with Halloween decorations and a party to lure tenants, the house reveals what it really is—a place where spooky stories come alive, and death is only the beginning.

This is Halloween horror storytelling at its most terrifying—perfect for listeners searching for scary podcasts, haunted house horror stories, and chilling long-form spooky stories with a mature edge. And don’t forget—this is night two of our 31 shows in 31 days event. Weekly Spooky is bringing you a brand new nightmare every single day this October.

In the Witch House Walls — by David O’Hanlon

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

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📬 Contact Us / Submit Your Horror Story!

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

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Behind the plaster were bones. In the cabinets, something squealed

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like a pig. And in the witch House, when the

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dead start to stir, they don't stop until you are

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inside the walls with them.

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There's a shiell in the air. Must befall.

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Join me for.

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A tale of Halloween. You will experience tales over over ghosts,

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and dam it is not recommended for the weak at heart.

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Join me for a Tale of oul.

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Is Weekly Spooky. Hello, my spookies, It's the second day

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of October and Spooky season is rocking and rolling. So

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what better way to get into the spirit of the

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season then move in to the Witch House. But before

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we get to that, I just want to say thank

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you so much for spending a little bit of your

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October with me. We hear at Weekly Spooky celebrate Halloween

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all year long, but when the most wonderful time of

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year comes around, well we go all out and we're

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happy to have you. So make sure you're subscribed on

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your favorite podcasting app. And while you're at it, why

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not leave us a five star rating on Apple Podcasts

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or Spotify. It truly helps the show by showing other

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spookies they're in the right place, and if you want

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to support us in a very direct way, you can

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head to Weeklyspooky dot Com slash join and for as

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little as one dollar a month, get two bonus shows

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every single month, as well as five years of creepy

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pasta readings and exclusive audiobooks at Weeklyspooky dot Com slash Join.

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Head over there and join over ninety other spookies and

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making sure we can keep bringing you the show for

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another six years and beyond, and make sure to come

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back tomorrow when Joe Solmo brings us a terrifying tale

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of Tricker Treating and the murderous sickle Jack. But as

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for tonight, what if the place you called home had

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already been claimed the funeral parlor turned apartment building where

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every wall hides carcasses, curses, and the restless dead. Freddy

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thought he was just renovating a house until the whispers,

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the shadows, and the thing in the cabinets reminded him

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some doors should never be open. We go into the

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witch House after this in The Witch House Walls by

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David o'hanley. For months, Freddy had felt like he was

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out of his mind. Now his mind was out of

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him and dripping down the dry wall of the apartment.

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The top of his head was missed in the air,

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and chunks on the foe wood lamin it. One of

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his molars had landed in the plastic pumpkin full of

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fun sized candy bars. Pieces of his scalp clung to

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the ceiling, turning the attached hair into black tinsel. The

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shotgun at his feet had done everything he expected it

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to except one. That fucking figure's Freddy's spirit said. Nine

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months before giving his living room a fresh coat of

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cranial Crylon Freddie had purchased the old Steinbeck funeral home

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with the intent of converting it into several apartments, two

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family units on the first floor, four single bed efficiency

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units on the second, and a studio on the third.

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It had been a painstaking project. The building had served

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as Kuto Basin's only mortuary for almost thirty years. After

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a terrible spat of deaths in nineteen forty five, Stuart

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Steinbeck's mind broke and forced him to retire from his

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macab occupation. The funeral parlor became his home. The horrible

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things Stuart had seen during that year haunted every waking moment,

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and he remained a recluse until his death in the

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winter of fifty eight. Despite the home's dark origins, none

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of the previous owners had ever experienced anything out of

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the ordinary while living there. Freddie made sure he got

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that part in writing he wasn't about to have tenants

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breaking leases over Poltergeist's. After all, the property had been

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in surprisingly good condition by the time Freddie purchased it.

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None of the previous owners had bothered renovating outside of

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a few minor comforts and a large in ground pool.

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If they had, maybe they could have saved him a

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small fortune and eventually his fucking life. He'd planned on

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having the unit available by summer to use the pool

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as a selling point, but he realized that wasn't going

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to happen. As he tore down the first wall, Desiccated

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animal carcasses hung behind the century old plaster, wrapped in

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rotting cloth, like mummies of the hundred acre wood. Alongside

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them were clusters of dried whorehound and sage. Every room

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the contractors tore into they found more of the same. Squirrels, raccoons, cats,

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and even a pair of piglets had been extracted from

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within the spaces. Freddy was loose, using money on his

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investment with each new discovery, but he was also losing

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his mind with each one they removed. And it wasn't

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just him either. Fewer workers returned to the job site

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with each passing week. At first they complained of noxious smells,

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missing tools, and whispered voices in empty rooms. Then they

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started getting sick. His foreman had vomited blood and maggots

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across the new kitchen a day after finishing the first

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downstairs apartment. By July, Freddie and his girlfriend O Dallas

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had moved into the house to finish the work themselves.

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They worked day and night, and by the middle of

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September they had gotten three second floor us ready, plus

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the one downstairs opposite their own. They lowered the rent,

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they waived the application fees, yet no one was applying.

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The construction workers had told everyone about what they had

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found inside his walls. The locals had begun whispering, and

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over the months they'd given it a name. No one

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wanted to live in the Witch House, or maybe they do,

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O Dallas said from across the kitchen island. Both of

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them were covered in drywall dust from the last of

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the high efficiency units. The next day, o dallas would

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start painting it while he began work in the attic.

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The studio was the last thing to do before Freddy

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could finally say he'd conquered the nightmare that had won

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once been his dream. He didn't even see a point anymore, though.

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Kuto Basin was full of ghost stories, and nobody was

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going to move into an apartment that might turn them

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into one. The stacks of applications we don't have, says otherwise.

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Freddie picked the sesame seed from the big mac bun.

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We're going to have to torch the place for insurance

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while we can still fucking afford to pay for it. Baby,

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it's almost Halloween, she'd said, conspiratorially. People want things to

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make sense. They want to get what they're promised. Lean

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into it, sure, Freddie forced himself to say he didn't

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realize what day it was. Lean into it. We can

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decorate all the apartments, o'dallas continued. We throw a Halloween

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party as an open house. He will scare the shit

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out of them and they'll love us for it. There's

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no way that'll work. Freddie pushed the value meal into

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the trash with everything else. He hadn't eaten that week. Tomorrow,

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I'll get matches, Freddie, we can do this. Oh, Dallas

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took his hand. Despite the grit of dry wall and plaster,

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they were still soft. Her one hundred dollars nail job

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was wrecked, but she was smiling. Those two goddamn cute

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dimples told him he was wrong about everything. Freddie hadn't

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slept good in weeks. He'd lost almost twenty pounds in

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the last month, and every single part of him ached.

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He was racking up his credit cards so Odallas wouldn't

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see how fast they were running out of money. But

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those dimples and that smile with her slightly bucked teeth

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gave him enough hope to work. One more day. She'd

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always done that, given him the one more day that

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turned into one more week, one more month. Everything he'd

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accomplished in the last five years had been because of

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her smile. Remodeling the Witch House was no different. He

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would have given up in the summer, but O'dallas had

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smiled and promised him they could make it work. That's

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just who she was, his sweet smiling guide straight into hell.

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You're not safe yet, weekly Spooky will be right back

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The next day, Freddie began work in the attic. The

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floorboards thrumbed beneath his sneakers from whatever Odallas was blasting

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on the bluetooth speaker. He thought about going to get

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the other one from their bedroom, but two flights of

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stairs could fuck right off. It was going to be

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a hard enough day. The attic had been cleared of junk,

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and the basic framework of the bathroom and kitchenette had

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been finished by the contractors before they flaked out. Freddy

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would need to hire a real plumber and electrician before

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he could make the loft available to renters, but he

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could finish the demo and get the insulations and drywall installed.

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He tapped the crowbar against the rear wall, listening to

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the hollow echo from the space beyond. Freddy wasn't sure

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what Stuart Steinbeck had used the attic for in his lifetime,

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but it certainly hadn't been storage. There were stories, of course,

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The basin was full of stories. Freddy used the bar

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to scratch away a pealing flap of half century old

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wallpaper of carousel ponies. Someone had lived in the space

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once upon a time. Someone's going to live here again.

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Freddy said, cocking the crowbar over his shoulder. Someone with

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better fucking taste. His first swing did little more than

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stir up a cloud of dust and dislodge some more

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wallpaper fragments. The second went straight through the plaster, as

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did the third. He shoved the hook end inside the

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hole and jerked back with everything his emaciated body had

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in it. A fissure split down the wall, racing along

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its length in a widening spider's web of cracks. Freddy

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started to scream. As the dust cleared. He gagged, but

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didn't have anything in his stomach to actually throw up.

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Another of Steinbeck's stuffed animals hung there, twisting on its noose.

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The empty eye socket stared at him as it turned.

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Dried sage protruded from between the shriveled lips and dingy

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yellow teeth. You sick, motherfucker, Freddy wheezed, covering his mouth.

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He tossed the crowbar at the wall. The entire structure

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pulsed at the blow. The plaster began to fall in pieces,

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clacking and knocking onto the wooden floor like hailstones ahead

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of a tornado. Freddy backed away slowly, never taking his

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eyes off the desiccated lamb. The plaster came down in

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an avalanche, spilling out across the floor to meet him.

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He coughed and fanned at the air. As the dust settled,

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he saw the animal was not alone. Freddy sank to

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his knees, trying to catch his breath. Since construction began,

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he was sure he had seen every animal in Ohio

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in its mummified form, every animal except for one. Hidden

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behind the wall. Were six lambs, three on either side

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of the withered, leathery thing that occupied the middle. Unlike

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the farm animals that hung from the neck, this one

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had its limbs bound tightly. Freddy didn't know how, but

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he knew that meant the child had been alive when

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the wall went up. Baby, come back to bed, oh,

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Dallas grumbled sleepily. I am in bed, Freddie said bleakly.

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He stared at the ceiling, wondering what time it was.

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He hadn't told her what he found in the attic,

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aside from saying it was more of Steinbeck's voodoo shit.

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Once he'd ripped down the rest of the walls to

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make sure there were no more human remains, he'd stuffed

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the carcasses in thick black trash bags and hefted them

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into the open topped dumpster out back. That was so weird. Oh,

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Dallas yawned, rolled over and draped her arm across him.

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I thought you were in the closet. Freddie kissed the

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top of her head. The leaven conditioner was oily on

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his lips, and the floral scent made him want to sneeze.

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His eyes fell on the closet. Maybe it was one

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of his coats hanging just right, but it did look

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like someone was there. Freddy returned to his vigil, staring

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straight through the textured ceiling and into that damned attic.

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He'd given the dead kid its own trash bag. That

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was the best he could do as far as a

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proper burial goes. Reporting it was out of the question.

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The kid had been there since the fifties. They probably

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would have died of old age already, so it was

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unlikely anyone was still around that would care that he'd

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tossed the body into the dumpster with all the other

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dead things. Freddie sighed as O'dallas started to snore. He

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assumed it was all the paint messing up her sinuses,

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because she even snored cute on a normal day. This

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wasn't cute. It was more like snorting. Freddy worked to

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emancipate himself from Odallas's slender body without waking her. He

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eased off the bed and glanced back at the closet. Jesus,

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that is creepy, he admitted, reconsidering his choice of opaque

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frontages on the twin doors. Watching o'dallas sleep, it became

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clear that she wasn't the source of the sound. Freddie

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followed the noise, tracking it by volume until he'd isolated

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it to the kitchen. Freddie flipped the light switch. His

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eyes stung and blurred from the assaul. The shadows stretching

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across the walls looked disturbingly human. As the organs adjusted

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to the brightness, he rubbed at them with his palms.

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Everything appeared once he'd finished. The noise had also ceased.

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As Freddy turned to leave a guttural snort once more.

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He spun on a bare heel, looking for the source.

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The cabinet under the sink tapped once, then again. He

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watched it move on the hinges as if something were

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trying to open it from the inside, but wasn't quite

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strong enough, it tapped and tapped, the efforts growing more frantic.

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The animalistic grunting grew frustrated. Oh away, weakly, spooky, will

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be right back. Rats. It can't be rats, Freddy whispered.

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He went to the sink and grabbed a glass from

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the drying rack to catch the intruder. He knelt in

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front of the cabinet, chewing his bottom lip nervously. As

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the animal's attempts escalated. He debated not looking. There was

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no point seeing the vermin if he wasn't seeing the

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income to deal with them. Let the little bastards be

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until we get some tenants, he told himself that just

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wouldn't do. However, they were just another problem on the

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ever growing list of shit that was bleeding him dry.

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At least he could kill this problem. That might make

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him feel a little better. Dead rats aren't an issue

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like that kid. Dead is gone and gone isn't a problem.

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Freddie hesitated, thinking once more about the child's corpse he

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dropped in the dumpster. What the hell is wrong with me?

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This place is eating my fucking brain. That's what I

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should have called the cops. I should have said to

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hell with money. I should have done anything other than that.

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He gripped the cabinet door and turned the glass over

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to catch the past. You didn't do something else, though,

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did you? Freddy? The animal had stopped trying to escape.

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A sudden pig like squeal tore through the kitchen. The

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glass slipped from his hand and shattered. The plaintive primal

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cries grew louder and louder still, until he thought his

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ears would bleed. The cabinet resumed its banging. Others joined

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in on the symphony. Freddy crawled backwards across the floor

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until he ran into the island. He slapped his hands

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over his ears. The cabinet flew open, and the noises stopped.

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Freddy pulled himself up, never looking away from the darkened

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space beneath the sink. Eyes shined in the blackness. Freddy

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crawled towards them. His curiosity overrode the urge to flee.

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The thing beneath the sink snorted again, then oinked softly.

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It moved forward, coming to the edge of the light,

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but not into it. What's going on, oh, Dallas asked groggily.

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She ran a hand through bed battered hair. It's late, baby,

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we have a lot of decorating to do tomorrow. Freddie,

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still on all fours, glanced back at her. I think

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we have a rat or something. That's not a three

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in the morning problem, she said, moving to him. Yeah,

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you're right. Freddy looked back at the cabinet, only to

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find it was closed. He sat up on his knees,

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pulled himself up by the sink. There's nothing we can

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do about it this early. You know what is a

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three in the morning problem? Odalus let her hand slither

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up his thigh and then walked her fingers to the

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open fly of his boxers until they crawled inside to

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grasp him. I'm not really, it's not a good time,

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he stammered. I can change your mind. Odalas sank to

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the floor. Fredy heard the broken glass crunch as her

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knees settled on to the shards. He started to speak,

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but was cut off by the sudden, warm, wetness of

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her mouth engulfing him. Despite the nightmare fuel of the

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previous few moments, he swelled inside her mouth. He had

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barely rose to the occasion when he convulsed with the

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first orgasm he'd had in months. O Dalas didn't let

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his climax stop her as she moved a hand to

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the base of his shaft and worked it in unison.

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She moaned, grasping his ass with her free hand until

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he felt skin breaking beneath the thin fabric. To his surprise,

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he stayed hard. His eyes rolled back in his head

295
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as she brought him to another body shaking ejaculation. Freddy's

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ecstatic squeal matched the thing beneath the sink. As Odallas

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finally let him slip from her mouth, his thoughts returned

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to that terrifying thing he hadn't seen. Now, will you

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come back to bed? Odallas didn't wait for his answer

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as she walked away. Freddie stared at the shape of

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her ass, barely concealed beneath one of his t shirts.

302
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Then he noticed the blood rivlets of it running down

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her calves from the cuts on her knees. Spots led

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back to him and the puddle around the broken glass. Babe,

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00:25:52.680 --> 00:25:57.480
he called, but she had already left. He tucked his

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deflating dick into his underwear and rushed to the bedroom,

307
00:26:03.000 --> 00:26:08.440
needing to check on her. The drops got fatter wetter

308
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as he followed her path. He pushed the door open

309
00:26:13.240 --> 00:26:20.559
fully to their room and almost screamed. Odallas was sound

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asleep just as he'd left her. A pig squealed somewhere

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in the house.

312
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More scarce to come weekly, Spooky will be right back.

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Freddy said nothing about the previous night as they decorated

314
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stolen glances at Odalas. While she showered showed no signs

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00:26:48.680 --> 00:26:52.839
of the cuts she'd gotten in the kitchen. He was

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00:26:52.960 --> 00:26:57.759
convinced he'd dreamt the whole thing. His inability to get

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a heart on when she tried to instigate a morning

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quickie had all but confirmed that for him he was

319
00:27:05.400 --> 00:27:11.240
financially and morally broke, and now his cock didn't work either.

320
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They worked all day to get the house ready. Purple

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and orange string lights, fake spiderwebs, and foam jack o'

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lanterns were the first things up. O'dallas strategically placed the

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skeletons in corners and hung rubber bats from the ceilings

324
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in all of the apartments. Freddie couldn't help much there.

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Every time he tried to move the plastic corpses, he

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00:27:39.079 --> 00:27:43.640
remembered the mummified child and how its limbs had snapped

327
00:27:43.759 --> 00:27:48.799
dryly as he forced them into the trash bag. He

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00:27:48.880 --> 00:27:52.839
offered to take care of the outside decor instead. Getting

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00:27:52.880 --> 00:27:56.680
out of the house would do him some good. Once

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the basics were out of the way, he moved on

331
00:27:59.720 --> 00:28:04.440
to harving a few real pumpkins. Odalas's plans seemed to

332
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be working. Cars were slowing down to read the yard

333
00:28:08.400 --> 00:28:14.039
sign promising a big party. Pedestrians were actually taking the

334
00:28:14.160 --> 00:28:18.200
risk of walking on to the witch house lawn. People

335
00:28:18.319 --> 00:28:23.640
seemed excited. Some even waved at him. Some even waved

336
00:28:23.680 --> 00:28:26.680
at him and asked if they should wear a costume.

337
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Freddie felt invigorated. Someone might actually rent one of his

338
00:28:32.319 --> 00:28:39.599
damn apartments? Or is it damned apartments? He wondered, thinking

339
00:28:39.640 --> 00:28:43.519
again about all the strange occurrences since they'd bought it,

340
00:28:44.640 --> 00:28:48.960
Thinking again about the dead things in the walls, the sickness,

341
00:28:49.720 --> 00:28:56.400
the accidents, the sulfurous smells, the sounds, thinking about the

342
00:28:56.480 --> 00:29:03.000
doppelganger in the kitchen, a special about her. Oh, now

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00:29:03.039 --> 00:29:07.200
you fucking work again. Freddie stared at the bulge in

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his jeans and decided it was time for a break.

345
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Odalas must have had the same idea. He just started

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up the stairs to the second floor when she ambushed

347
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him on the landing. She took the carving knife from

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his hand. Freddy's eyes froze on the sticky blade, positive

349
00:29:29.039 --> 00:29:31.759
that he had left it stuck in the pumpkin on

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the porch. He gasped as Odalas used it to cut

351
00:29:36.720 --> 00:29:41.160
open his shirt. The knife fell from her hand, stabbing

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00:29:41.200 --> 00:29:45.599
into the floor beside their feet. Freddie grabbed her shoulders

353
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and turned her around, pushing her against the guard rail.

354
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He jerked her leggings down to her thighs, drawing excited

355
00:29:55.160 --> 00:30:00.119
giggles from her. He tore at his zipper, finally wrestling

356
00:30:00.200 --> 00:30:05.039
himself free and thrust inside her. He grunted as she

357
00:30:05.119 --> 00:30:10.160
slammed herself back to match his efforts. His fingers squeezed

358
00:30:10.200 --> 00:30:15.440
deeply into her hips. What the fuck, Freddy, Oh Dallas

359
00:30:15.519 --> 00:30:21.000
shouted from downstairs. Freddie looked down at her with equal confusion,

360
00:30:21.759 --> 00:30:25.759
His hand still pumped wildly on his shaft until he

361
00:30:25.880 --> 00:30:30.240
realized what he was doing. He choked on the words

362
00:30:30.279 --> 00:30:34.559
he was trying to say. Oh Dallas stood there, holding

363
00:30:34.599 --> 00:30:38.680
the pizza she'd brought home for dinner. Freddie looked from

364
00:30:38.759 --> 00:30:41.519
her to the last bit of light coming from the

365
00:30:41.519 --> 00:30:47.359
front door. It had been midday when he came inside.

366
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Are you serious right now? She asked, You weren't in

367
00:30:51.640 --> 00:30:54.160
the mood this morning, but I go get food in

368
00:30:54.200 --> 00:30:58.960
your What are you doing christening the fucking house? She

369
00:30:59.119 --> 00:31:02.480
threw down the peace zza and stormed into their apartment.

370
00:31:03.279 --> 00:31:07.240
Freddy slumped to the floor, cradling his head in his hands.

371
00:31:08.000 --> 00:31:13.799
O'dallas slammed the door. Nothing made sense anymore. He heard

372
00:31:13.839 --> 00:31:19.200
the pig rutting around in the attic. A breeze coming

373
00:31:19.240 --> 00:31:22.839
from one of the apartments carried the same musty stench

374
00:31:23.000 --> 00:31:26.000
as all the dead things he'd pulled from the walls.

375
00:31:26.799 --> 00:31:29.799
He pried the knife from the floor and went to

376
00:31:29.880 --> 00:31:33.200
look for the open window that was letting the odor

377
00:31:33.279 --> 00:31:38.599
in from the dumpster. Then he'd go kill that fucking

378
00:31:38.720 --> 00:31:44.359
pig rat or whatever it was. He wandered through unit

379
00:31:44.440 --> 00:31:50.880
two o three, carefully eyeing Odallas's decorations. The bats seemed

380
00:31:50.880 --> 00:31:54.200
to flap their wings as the outside air blew in.

381
00:31:55.559 --> 00:31:58.960
She'd done such a great job. He didn't know what

382
00:31:59.000 --> 00:32:01.799
the hell was wrong with him, but he wasn't going

383
00:32:01.839 --> 00:32:04.839
to let it ruin things with her. They were going

384
00:32:04.880 --> 00:32:09.200
to have their party, and after that, finances be damned.

385
00:32:09.720 --> 00:32:13.039
He was going to find a therapist. It was a

386
00:32:13.079 --> 00:32:16.839
nervous breakdown. The stress had finally put too much weight

387
00:32:16.960 --> 00:32:21.200
on him. Simple as that, who the fuck wouldn't break

388
00:32:21.279 --> 00:32:25.200
in the witch house. Freddie closed the window and a

389
00:32:25.279 --> 00:32:30.319
cabinet banged open in the kitchen. Freddie looked into the

390
00:32:30.400 --> 00:32:37.200
eyes that hid within. You're not real, he whispered, You're

391
00:32:37.240 --> 00:32:42.559
not there at all. The animal moved deliberately. Strands of

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00:32:42.640 --> 00:32:47.200
brown hair dangled over the precipice of the cabinet. The

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00:32:47.359 --> 00:32:52.599
child leaned its head back, glaring at Freddy with its bruised,

394
00:32:53.000 --> 00:32:59.119
pale face, and smiled with broken and missing teeth. She

395
00:32:59.240 --> 00:33:03.599
unfolded herself from the space, descending like a spider down

396
00:33:03.640 --> 00:33:08.480
the counter and on to the floor. Freddy's hand tightened

397
00:33:08.519 --> 00:33:12.839
around the knife. Someone knocked on the door, and he

398
00:33:12.960 --> 00:33:19.279
turned to see Odallas standing in the entryway, naked and

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00:33:19.359 --> 00:33:24.559
bleeding from open cuts on her knees. She opened her

400
00:33:24.599 --> 00:33:28.799
mouth to speak. Her voice was no longer the sweet,

401
00:33:29.240 --> 00:33:35.559
soft sound of reassurance. It was a pig squeal. Stay back,

402
00:33:35.599 --> 00:33:39.880
goddamn it, He sliced and stabbed at the air. You're

403
00:33:39.920 --> 00:33:45.480
not real, You're not fucking real. The child sprang onto

404
00:33:45.480 --> 00:33:50.079
his back. Her cold, withered arms wrapped around his neck.

405
00:33:50.799 --> 00:33:55.200
Her legs seized him around the waist. Teeth scraped open

406
00:33:55.279 --> 00:34:04.400
his scalp, and Odallas stalked towards him. Freddy tossed wildly,

407
00:34:04.839 --> 00:34:08.079
trying to break free of the tangle of wet sheets.

408
00:34:08.639 --> 00:34:11.480
They clung to him. As he fell over the side

409
00:34:11.519 --> 00:34:15.519
of the bed. He forced himself to stand and peel

410
00:34:15.559 --> 00:34:20.039
away the jersey knit skin. The blood staining his body

411
00:34:20.639 --> 00:34:26.239
looked black in the darkness. The bathroom door squeaked open,

412
00:34:26.960 --> 00:34:32.079
spilling its light onto the bed. The chef's knife laid

413
00:34:32.159 --> 00:34:38.119
on the soggy pillow. Oh, Dallas wasn't there, or maybe

414
00:34:38.159 --> 00:34:43.199
she was. Freddie reached for the leaking trash bag on

415
00:34:43.360 --> 00:34:47.719
her side of the bed, but couldn't bring himself to look.

416
00:34:48.920 --> 00:34:53.320
He already knew what was inside. It wasn't the first

417
00:34:53.360 --> 00:34:57.840
body he'd shoved in one, after all. Freddy went to

418
00:34:57.920 --> 00:35:01.880
the closet. It still looked like someone was in there.

419
00:35:02.880 --> 00:35:07.159
He hoped there was. He prayed for some maniac to

420
00:35:07.239 --> 00:35:10.119
jump out and kill him too, to cut him into

421
00:35:10.119 --> 00:35:14.599
pieces and stuff him in a trash bag right next

422
00:35:14.599 --> 00:35:18.960
to Odallas. At least if that happened, it would mean

423
00:35:19.000 --> 00:35:24.280
the other thing hadn't. No one waited behind the door, however,

424
00:35:25.639 --> 00:35:29.320
he retrieved the shotgun from the top shelf. Things got

425
00:35:29.400 --> 00:35:32.800
rough in the old neighborhood. He swore he'd get rid

426
00:35:32.840 --> 00:35:35.519
of it. Once they got the apartments up and running.

427
00:35:36.719 --> 00:35:41.800
They wouldn't need it anymore, he told Odallas. He told

428
00:35:41.840 --> 00:35:44.639
her he'd take care of her, and that they'd never

429
00:35:44.719 --> 00:35:51.719
live in a place like that. Ever again, he hadn't lied. Indeed,

430
00:35:51.760 --> 00:35:56.000
they wouldn't be going back to the old neighborhood ever again.

431
00:36:03.039 --> 00:36:08.280
Freddie's spirit lingered in the living room. Not even suicide

432
00:36:08.280 --> 00:36:12.719
had gone as planned. The cabinets banged and tapped and

433
00:36:12.840 --> 00:36:17.760
opened in unison. He floated into the kitchen, leaving his

434
00:36:17.920 --> 00:36:23.920
dead husk behind. Eyes watched him for their hiding places.

435
00:36:24.000 --> 00:36:28.559
A rotting, bloodied o'dalus looked at him from across the island.

436
00:36:29.480 --> 00:36:35.320
Maggots wriggled from between her lips. A tiny hand grasped his,

437
00:36:36.280 --> 00:36:41.280
and he glanced down at the child leprous piglets with

438
00:36:41.360 --> 00:36:45.400
their flesh falling off their bones, sat at her feet.

439
00:36:46.639 --> 00:36:50.679
Something growled on one of the floors above him. The

440
00:36:50.719 --> 00:36:56.920
echo shook the foundations of the former funeral home. Freddie

441
00:36:56.960 --> 00:37:02.280
had always believed death was the end in the witch House,

442
00:37:03.159 --> 00:37:11.079
it was only the second act, and that, my Spookies,

443
00:37:11.920 --> 00:37:15.840
is the witch House where the walls whisper, the dead

444
00:37:16.280 --> 00:37:22.760
still breathe, and the nightmare never truly ends. But don't

445
00:37:22.800 --> 00:37:26.880
get too comfortable, because this is only night two of

446
00:37:26.960 --> 00:37:31.920
our thirty one shows in thirty one days all October

447
00:37:32.039 --> 00:37:37.480
long on Weekly Spooky. Every single day a new scare

448
00:37:38.119 --> 00:37:41.800
is waiting for you. Tomorrow we ride out into the

449
00:37:41.920 --> 00:37:45.320
crisp autumn streets with a group of boys looking for

450
00:37:45.440 --> 00:37:51.440
mischief on Halloween Night, but instead of tricks, they'll stumble

451
00:37:51.480 --> 00:37:56.039
into the legend of sickle Jack, the harvester of souls,

452
00:37:56.599 --> 00:37:59.800
a pumpkinheaded terror with a blade as sharp as the

453
00:37:59.840 --> 00:38:05.000
midnight win and a harvest no one escapes. So keep

454
00:38:05.039 --> 00:38:09.079
your jack o'lantern's lit and your bicycles close by, because

455
00:38:09.119 --> 00:38:13.760
tomorrow night, sickle Jack comes calling. And I want to

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say an extra thank you to our Patreon podcast boosters.

457
00:38:16.760 --> 00:38:20.320
Folks who head to Weekly Spooky dot com slash join

458
00:38:20.599 --> 00:38:23.199
and sign up at the fifteen dollars er higher tier

459
00:38:23.800 --> 00:38:25.480
to hear their name at the end of the show,

460
00:38:25.639 --> 00:38:29.239
and they are Johnny Nicks, Kate and Lulu, Jessica Fuller,

461
00:38:29.360 --> 00:38:33.760
Mike Ascuey, Jenny Green, Amber Hansford, Karen we Met, Jack

462
00:38:33.840 --> 00:38:36.800
Kerr and Craig Cohen. Thank you all so much, and

463
00:38:36.880 --> 00:38:39.199
if you want to hear your name in my silky

464
00:38:39.320 --> 00:38:44.320
spooky voice, head toweeklyspooky dot com slash join and sign

465
00:38:44.400 --> 00:38:47.480
up to help the show keep going and going well

466
00:38:47.559 --> 00:38:51.760
past another six years and beyond. But now it's time

467
00:38:51.760 --> 00:38:53.320
for me to get back to work, because I'll be

468
00:38:53.400 --> 00:38:56.679
seeing you guys right here tomorrow to share the terror

469
00:38:56.760 --> 00:39:00.679
tale of sickle Jack. So for myself, for my executive

470
00:39:00.719 --> 00:39:05.199
producers Rob Fields and Bobotopia dot Com, my producer Dan Wilder,

471
00:39:05.360 --> 00:39:09.360
and my composer Ray Mattis, be careful what you find

472
00:39:09.880 --> 00:39:13.039
in the walls of your home. Trust me on that one.

473
00:39:13.280 --> 00:39:16.760
I'll talk at you later. Thank you for listening to me.

474
00:39:17.519 --> 00:39:20.400
Make sure to find your way back next week week.

475
00:39:21.159 --> 00:39:26.400
But for now you are safe. Trust me,