March 19, 2025

Hermit - Ancient Magic, Forbidden Knowledge, and Unrelenting Horror

Hermit -  Ancient Magic, Forbidden Knowledge, and Unrelenting Horror
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Deep in the heart of the woods, an old woman tends to the wounds of nature. She is a healer, a keeper of balance, and a guardian of ancient magic. But when a dark force begins to spread, infecting the land and twisting the creatures that dwell within, she must embark on a perilous journey to uncover the truth. What she finds may be more terrifying than she ever imagined.

Hermit by Mike Mann

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Contact Us / Submit Your Story

🎵 Music by Ray Mattis
Check out Ray’s work here!

👨‍💼 Executive Producers: Rob Fields, Mark Shields, Bobbletopia.com

🎥 Produced by: Daniel Wilder

For everything else check out WeeklySpooky.com


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

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

📬 Contact Us / Submit Your Horror Story!

🎵 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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Deep in the heart of the woods, an old woman

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tends to the wounds of nature, a healer, a keeper

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of balance, and a guardian of ancient magic. But when

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a dark force begins to spread, infecting the land and

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twisting the creatures that dwell within, she must embark on

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a perilous journey in order to uncover the truth. What's

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that You want to be scared? Come with me. You

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will experience tales over opera, ghosts, and death. It is

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not recommended at the foot of weak at heart heart

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listen as in the dark, it's more fun at that

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way way. This is Weekly Speaking. Hello my spookies. It's Wednesday,

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and you know what that means. It's time for a

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little spooky in your weekly and tonight we have something

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extra special for you. This story was brought to us

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via Weeklyspooky dot Com. We got an email from the author,

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mister Mike Mann. He asked us to read his story

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and consider it, and boy did we. Both myself and

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producer Dan were blown away. So all you spookies get

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to enjoy it here tonight. And if you have a

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story you think we may enjoy and want to share

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on the program, send us an email at Weeklyspooky at

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gmail dot com. We'd love to hear from you. There

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are plenty of new scares in the coming months, so

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make sure you're subscribed on your favorite podcasting app. And

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if you're a longtime listener, why not consider support rewarding

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us at Weeklyspooky dot com slash join. For as little

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as one dollar a month, you get exclusive bonus episodes,

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exclusive creepypasta readings, audiobooks, and so much more. You can

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also now head to Weeklyspooky dot com slash join and

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purchase the audiobooks after they're complete. But of course, if

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you want to hear two bonus episodes every single month,

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you'll need to go to Weeklyspooky dot com slash join

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and sign up. But as for Tonight, there are some

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people who choose to live alone, away from the rest

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of the world. Maybe they're searching for peace, or maybe

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they know something we don't. Stories often spread about them,

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rumors of what they've seen, what they've done, but sometimes

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the truth is much stranger than legend. Tonight's story is

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about a woman who spent her life in solitude, a

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woman who thought she'd seen it all until something appeared

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that should have never existed. Now get cozy, because this

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story starts right after these quick words. Hermit by Mike Man.

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A small yellow haired squirrel crept to the door of

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a rickety cottage set back in the deep dark hollows

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of a wooded grove. Black slime covered its hind legs

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and blood leaked from the side of its mouth. The

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exhausted animal collapsed on the porch and the door opened

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to reveal an old woman. Her long gray hair reached

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her scrawny shoulders. Beads of stone and wood covered random strands,

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and twigs of healing trees were also present in her

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ancient locks. She looked down at the suffering creature. Oh, dear, no, no,

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this will not do. Her soft and rugged voice caused

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the squirrel's ears to perk up. She gently picked up

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the creature and brought it inside. She let it rest

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on a small area of a table adorned with fabrics

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and sweet smelling herbs. She set to work on something

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in the distance. A stone bowl was used to hold

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different objects that were ground up until it became a

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fine powder. A small glass vial was removed from a shelf.

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Several drops of green liquid were added to the concoction.

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Soon the powder became a paste that was used to

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cover the black sludge that infected the squirrel. A day la,

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the creature was restored, leaving the cottage feeling revived and

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grateful for the gracious human who had saved it. This

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was the kindred spirit of these woods, A woman dedicated

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to the art of magic. Rooted deep in nature, She

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had practiced her ways of the ancients almost her entire life.

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The constant battle between light and dark magic had left

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a stain on her emotionally and physically. Her very soul

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could feel the living things all around her. Her sadness

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would bear tears pulled straight from her beating heart, and

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the tips of the woman's fingers held the mark of

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earlier dives into forbidden spells. Deep stains of jet black

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soaked the flesh and nails. Wisdom and knowledge graced the

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world woman in scores of experience. This is perhaps why

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she would always find some animal crossing her path or

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stumble to her cottage in need and unspoken understanding that

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this old hermit was the healer in this secluded realm.

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The woman stood outside and smoked from a wooden pipe

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as she watched the animal venture off back into the woods.

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She stood for a while, wondering what would have caused

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such an ailment. Something sparked within her mind. As she pondered,

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she walked back inside and rummaged through a bookshelf until

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the proper tomb was found. A thick book housed in

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a black leather cover, a red scar on the front,

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made up of signs from a forgotten age. She opened

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it and flipped through the pages before landing on one

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with an illustration of tar like creatures, monsters of various sizes,

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composed of dark splotches, bright eyes, and teeth that one

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would pray never to be the victim of a gnarly bite.

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She clicked her teeth and exhaled deeply. Now it's way

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too soon. Her heart felt heavy, and worry took over her.

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She scrambled to a storage box and began digging through it.

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Where did I Her sentence went unfinished as she continued

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her search. Finally she found what she had been looking for,

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a small piece of amber attached to a thick strand

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of leather, a relic from one of her adventures long ago.

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The item came with a tragic story and a deep,

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jagged scar that remained hidden underneath her cloak. Countless sagas

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such as this had left her body frail and worn,

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but she never ceased to uphold her duty as it

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was given to her by the old gods. She had

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no time to reminisce on her past excursions at the moment,

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as she went back to her book, scanning more pages.

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As she flipped through them, something bothered her and she

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had to get answers. After some time passed, the old

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woman closed the book and headed out the door. She

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grabbed her decorative walking stick and trampled towards the woods.

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Something was off balance in her sanctuary, and the evidence

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was present. With the arrival of the poor creature who

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desperately needed her help, the trip to her destination would

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not take long. She spied several peculiarities as she walked.

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Deep scratches on tree bark that left green goo oozing

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from the gashes, trampled flowers that appeared to be sucked

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dry of their chlorophyll. Periodically, she would find tracks left

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behind by creatures she had not encountered, or at least

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not in her ninety five years of living in these woods.

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Although she was one hundred and twenty years old, she

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felt like she was sixty. With all that time, she

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had seen many things and experienced even more, encountered strange creatures,

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helped many and even had written books documenting all of

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her discoveries. But the sights she had witnessed during this

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walk were new. However, the old leather bound book passed

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down to her by her predecessor had details of things

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to come in the future. These new sights were connected

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to what she viewed in its pages. The black sludge

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found on the squirrel had been part of one of

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those countless premonitions in that ancient book. The woods seemed

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to be too quiet, leaving a dreadful stillness in the air.

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The woman felt uneasy, but had to continue. She knew

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where she was going and peered at the markers indicating

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she was on the right path. Gliding her hand across

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lavarice bushes and admiring the multitude of trees, she embraced

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the warmth of the twin suns behind her and the

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softness of the blue grass below. Her sanctuary had the

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grandest sights within the whole of Monriath. The woman couldn't

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be happier with her life and where she was, but

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something was wrong with the balance of nature, and what

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she found in her book sent depression down into her soul.

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That contentment and joy was being threatened by something, and

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she vowed to find it and stop it. This was

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her land and she must protect it. Discovering the answer

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to her question was the sole purpose of this current adventure.

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She made it to a clearing and began seeing puddles

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of thick black echor, as if it had fallen from

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the sky. Ripped stalks of red fungi that dwelled within

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the ebony goo were present. Pock Marks littered the ground,

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showing many things scrambling about, digging claws into the dirt.

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A smell of decay hay mixed with copper was in

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the air, accompanied by a sting of something unfamiliar. Her

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steps continued forward, and she finally reached her destination. Upon arrival,

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the sight before her struck her heart. The woman fell

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to her knees and began to weep. It can't be,

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she wailed. Crimson tears fell from her eyes that landed

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on the desecrated ground. Don't go away, weakly, Spooky will

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be right back. A large tree had been decimated. A

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cavernous hole was at its center, ridged edges that had

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crusted fluorescent flakes near more of those intimidating scratch marks.

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Streams of countless liquids had run out and dried inside

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this beauty of nature, no leaves present, and the thing

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had the appearance of being torched. Coal encased the form

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a sure sign of life. A circle of once luscious

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blue grass was tarnished and burned. Dried remnants of sick

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fluid surrounded the dead tree in a circle, and the

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skeletal remains of many creatures settled in it. Death had

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taken this very spot something dark and cruel. The woman

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gripped her broken heart, struggling to regain her once calm posture.

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She rose to her feet, wiping her tears and regaining

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her composure, She pulled out the amber to examine the

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gruesome scene. Through the mystical item, she could see trails

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of colorful auras left behind from something that had burst

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from the tree, faint blue with a fading haze of

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orange that rose like steam to reveal multiple paths of

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assorted sized creatures, almost like a shadow that stretched in

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the directions of these things and where they ran off

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to countless claws and feet that shot out in different directions,

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all making their way towards the woods. It started decades

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before it should, the old woman muttered to herself. She

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placed a hand on the corpse, still planted in the ground.

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Black stained fingertips traced emptied veins on the scorched wood.

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A sniffle and one solitary red tear fell from a

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weary eye. My heart shatters for thee great protector. She

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turned and began to walk back from which she came.

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Preparations had to be made, Help must be found to

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stop what comes next. The woman walked and mumbled one

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word continuously under her breath, Magaladish, Magaladish. The word burned

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her tongue, and electricity sparked in her lungs as she uttered.

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The moniker of something terrible, the culprit to the murder

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at the clearing. Back at the cabin, the old woman

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filled a bag with supplies, food, potions, and other items

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she may need. She set off to find some form

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of civilization in order to help combat the approaching doom

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that would soon come. Walking stick in hand, she set

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off on another long trek, hope filled her, and it

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pushed back the pain and fear. For the time being,

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Surely she could find a small group willing to volunteer

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in her quest. Time would tell if her efforts bore

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any fruit. For days of walking had exhausted her resources

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of nourishment, and the woman had sought the provisions given

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by nature, vegetarian diet of fruits and berries, water given

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from the sparkling creeks. Animals passed by, some delighted with

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her presence, others rabid with an ominous gleam in their eye.

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The toxic black substance caked in the fur and feathers

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of innocent creatures. An infection was spreading within the realm

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of the animal kingdom. She tried to aid, but it

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was too late. They scurried away or showed their teeth.

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By day five, she had to ward off many sick creatures.

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One ended with execution. She cried for ending its life,

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but it was either her or the animal. Seeing that

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people may not believe her, she removed the head of

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an infected loness hound and placed it in her bag.

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Proof of the sickness that was growing like cancer. The

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infected red spots present in the dead animal's eyes. The

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black ichor had replaced any trace of its original fluid

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of blood. The task was ghastly, and a piece of

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her humanity left when the act was being done. The

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longer time passed, the heavier her heart felt, sinking deep

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with the stain of regret and sadness. Soon her nights

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were spent peering back into the eyes of something horrid.

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Inky silhouettes with glowing pupils, a stench of rotting meat

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surrounded her when they stalked the area where she camped,

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clicking of jagged teeth and screams that sent other creatures

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fleeing in fear. The old woman kept the fire hot

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and bright in hopes it would ward off the monsters.

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It did for the most part, and she remained unharmed.

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For added security, a small pouch of red albine salt

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was used to create a protective circle around her quarters.

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A few twigs laid out in specific sigils, but this

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did not ease her terror, and one morning she woke

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to fire evidence of the things scrounging her camp site.

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The salt circle had been broken, and the gnawed twigs

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were accompanied by a pile of maggot filled excrement near

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the now extinguished fire. She was being stalked, and yet

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the culprits had not killed her. She wondered if she

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was being toyed with. Luck fell in her direction by

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day seven, when she came upon a thick forest filled

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with baroctin trees, a glimmer of hope began to burn

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inside of her nerves tensed up, and her stomach filled

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with butterflies when she spotted structures beyond the trees. Cabins

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scattered throughout the area, and eventually people could be seen,

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some tending to small patches of crops, others working on

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the very walls of their homes. Heard the sound of children,

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then soon saw a line of three chasing one another.

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She had found a village and hopefully some of its

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inhabitants would listen to her plea. She knew time was

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of the essence, so things needed to be done in haste.

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Emerging from the trees, she jogged towards the first person

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she saw and stopped them. Please, sir, you must help me.

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The man pulled away and gave her a look of

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confusion and annoyance. He gazed at her and spit The

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man turned and walked away without a word. She attempted

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this multiple times with almost the same reaction. She made

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her way through the place, and with frustration bubbling up,

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she began to yell, addressing everyone around her. I beg

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of you, please help me. Her eyes began to water

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and her stufe churned. The eyes of the people all

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pointed in her direction. She continued her case, and all

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that she received were stars. Omnivera At has fallen, the

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great protector of our land. The ancient tree has been decimated.

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Darkness and death approach all in monorath. Her words fell

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upon ignorant ears, and she hoped her proof of the

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coming doom would show she wasn't crazy. She held up

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the sack with the infected houndshead. Black liquid seeped from

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a corner and dripped toward the ground. The lands have

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been tainted, along with the animals. The Malakdiche have returned

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to reclaim this world. They must be stopped. Her throat

267
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began to ache from shouting. She told of what she

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saw in the book, the return of the demons who

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were once locked within the tree, the death and destruction

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that followed their release. You're not safe yet, weakly, spooky

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will be right back. She warned them of all the

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catastrophic events that would soon take place. Some called her crazy,

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while others backed away. Many scoffed at her warning of

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the day when the twin suns would burn away, leaving

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Monrath in darkness and allowing Maghladish to murder and consume

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all who lived. Her body grew weak, and she fell

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to her knees in front of a large man dressed

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in black. She begged for help, but the man gave

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a blank expression, and with no warning, he attacked her,

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pummeling her worn face with his fist. The pain shot

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through her entire body as blood flew from her mouth

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and nose. Continuous strikes from the steel like fist berated

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her face. The act was viewed by the entire crowd.

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None appraised it, but no one stopped it either. Soon

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the poor woman fell unconscious from the beating with a

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painful gasp for air. The woman woke up lightning bolts

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of agony pierced her skull as she attempted to open

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her eyes. One was swollen and no visibility came from it.

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She couldn't move. There was a struggle until The sensation

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of thick ropes around her arms and legs gave her

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the realization of her situation. Something stiff pushed against her back.

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She looked up to view the night sky of purple

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mixing with a stream of yellow. The stars burned brightly,

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and at that moment she wished to be up there.

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She looked downwards to see the people of this village

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were all present. Looks of disgust and pity were shown

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by the light of the fire that illuminated their faces.

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She heard footsteps near her, and the man dressed in

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black appeared. He spoke to the crowd, giving a speech

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that ultimately painted her as a wicked, evil thing. He

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called her defiling names and claimed her to be associated

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with a name the woman had never heard of, Satan.

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The man scared her, and when she begged to be

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set free, he threw his fist into her face. She

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felt a crunch, and something hard shot out of her mouth.

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The old woman and wept as she felt a hole

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where a tooth once was. Her heart thumped hard against

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her chest. When she witnessed another man approach with a

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wooden cart full of stones, The man in black spoke

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again and let it be known that she would die tonight,

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death by stoning for accusations of sacrilege and blasphemy. All

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the woman wanted was help, and she was given assault

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for her efforts. Someone from the crowd walked towards the

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leader who had pronounced the woman's execution. The words were hushed,

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but she could make them out. Pastor, I think this

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00:25:48.000 --> 00:25:52.000
is wrong. She hasn't done anything. She's just a crazy

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old woman. The words did not please the man in black,

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because shortly after he attacked the person, a large club

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00:26:02.480 --> 00:26:06.319
was used to bash the person's skull. The poor soul

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00:26:06.480 --> 00:26:09.839
begged for their life, but it did no good, and

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the final blow ended their life with a sickening crunch.

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A threat was given to the crowd for anyone else

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that wanted to interfere with the execution. No one spoke,

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and he walked a few paces back. This is when

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an avalanche of pain came crashing down on the poor

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00:26:32.759 --> 00:26:38.200
old woman. Every single person grabbed a stone and threw

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them at her, some hitting her torso, but most landed

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against her face. Her ears began to wring from the

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shots that pelted her. One caught her good eye and

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00:26:51.079 --> 00:26:56.480
destroyed the orb all was black, but the pain continued,

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followed by her cries. Blood poured from her eyes, mouth,

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00:27:02.319 --> 00:27:06.559
and nose. The event lasted for minutes, but for the

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00:27:06.599 --> 00:27:12.440
woman it felt like an eternity. A loud crack reverberated

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inside of her head, and eventually she died from this

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00:27:17.880 --> 00:27:23.240
horrific display of hate. When her heart stopped and no

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breath drew from her lungs, she was cut down. Her

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battered corpse landed with a thud on the blood stained ground.

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The crowd dispersed, A few individuals were ordered to bring

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her body inside the building that was set behind her.

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Later in the night, the man in black dragged the

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old woman's body down a declining set of stairs. His

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hand gripped her ankle while her head slammed against each step.

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Loud sounds of bone cracking and soft tissue expelling out

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of newly formed holes bounced off the stone walls. A

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00:28:03.920 --> 00:28:08.480
disgusting trail of coagulated blood and brain matter leaked from

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her destroyed head and smeared across each step. The sounds

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00:28:13.960 --> 00:28:18.240
continued until the man reached the last step, leading to

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a long hallway lit up with torches. After passing many hallways,

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and cells. The man brought the body to a special

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room filled with different tables, tools, and a single chair.

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A large metal goblet sat on the seat of the

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00:28:38.160 --> 00:28:42.720
ornate chair. A single stream of red pulled inside and

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00:28:42.880 --> 00:28:46.759
gleamed from the light. In a slight effort of will

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00:28:46.839 --> 00:28:50.799
and strength, the man slung the battered corpse onto a table.

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A few metal items fell and landed on the floor.

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He knelt down to pick them up, along with the

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sack he had taken from the dead woman. He had

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00:29:02.319 --> 00:29:07.039
also kept her walking stick as a souvenir. The man

359
00:29:07.160 --> 00:29:09.960
opened the sack and removed the diseased head of the

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00:29:10.039 --> 00:29:14.440
animal the old woman had taken for proof of her discoveries.

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He set it next to the metal tools and set

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to work. A whistling tune filled the air as the

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00:29:22.920 --> 00:29:26.160
man removed flesh and muscle from the neck of the woman.

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Once that was finished, he gripped her spinal column with

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00:29:30.640 --> 00:29:35.920
both hands and broke it. The effort was slightly easier

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00:29:35.960 --> 00:29:40.039
than his usual victims, no doubt from the age of

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00:29:40.079 --> 00:29:45.000
her body. He held the woman's head to his and

368
00:29:45.160 --> 00:29:51.240
kissed the now blackened lips. A kiss turned into a bite,

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00:29:51.319 --> 00:29:55.279
and eventually his teeth, removed the two lumps of flesh

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00:29:55.880 --> 00:30:01.519
and began to chew on them. Woman, your lips taste awful,

371
00:30:02.440 --> 00:30:08.000
he spoke, before spitting towards the floor. The whistling returned

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00:30:08.200 --> 00:30:12.359
as the man tossed one decapitated head and gripped another

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00:30:13.680 --> 00:30:17.079
with a needle and thread. A new head was sewn

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onto the woman's body. Black slime oozed from the nose

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00:30:22.559 --> 00:30:27.240
of the hound and dripped onto the man's hand. He

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00:30:27.359 --> 00:30:31.799
finished his work, then drew his attention to the substance.

377
00:30:32.519 --> 00:30:35.920
He sniffed it and gagged at the stench of something foul.

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Although the man wiped the sticky fluid on his trousers,

379
00:30:40.920 --> 00:30:45.319
a stain remained on his skin. It began to burn,

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00:30:45.920 --> 00:30:50.960
and veins of purple slowly expanded around it. Panic took

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00:30:51.000 --> 00:30:55.279
over him as he watched the area grow faster and faster,

382
00:30:55.599 --> 00:31:00.799
until his entire arm was covered. The sensation of searing

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00:31:00.880 --> 00:31:05.160
flesh covered his entire body. Within seconds, The infection was

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00:31:05.200 --> 00:31:10.640
spreading and made its way into his eyes. Ice cold

385
00:31:10.720 --> 00:31:14.480
streams of tears flooded out of the sides of his eyes.

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Stinging sensations nipped at his internal organs. His body shook

387
00:31:20.240 --> 00:31:26.039
and yellow sweat expelled from every pore. The man's mind emptied,

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00:31:26.119 --> 00:31:31.880
until all that remained was an urge to eat. His

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00:31:32.039 --> 00:31:36.000
reddened vision spied the new form on the table, and

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00:31:36.079 --> 00:31:42.039
he viciously gnawed at it. Wrinkled flesh and spoiled fluids

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00:31:42.440 --> 00:31:47.079
filled his mouth. Wet slopping and crunching echoed within the

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walls of the room. The frenzy of hunger consumed every

393
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ounce of the man's attention until a sound came from

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00:31:55.160 --> 00:31:59.720
far off in the distance. A voice resonated in the

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00:31:59.799 --> 00:32:05.960
mutated ears of the thing that was once human. Pastor Caine,

396
00:32:06.440 --> 00:32:09.839
are you down here? The voice came from the door

397
00:32:09.960 --> 00:32:15.599
that led down to his dungeon. The voice returned, and

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00:32:15.680 --> 00:32:21.359
the feasting stopped. The thing, dressed in black, walked toward

399
00:32:21.440 --> 00:32:33.440
the sound, its stomach gurgling with intense hunger. Well, my Spookyes,

400
00:32:33.519 --> 00:32:36.119
I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I did.

401
00:32:36.400 --> 00:32:38.799
And a big thank you to Mike Man for sharing

402
00:32:38.839 --> 00:32:41.599
it with us. And if you enjoyed this story, let

403
00:32:41.680 --> 00:32:45.240
us know because Mike has a few more to unveil,

404
00:32:45.359 --> 00:32:48.640
and maybe, just maybe we'll do it right here at

405
00:32:48.640 --> 00:32:50.920
Weekly Spooky. And if you have a story you want

406
00:32:50.920 --> 00:32:53.559
to share with us, head to Weeklyspooky dot com or

407
00:32:53.680 --> 00:32:57.640
send an email to Weeklyspooky at gmail dot com. We

408
00:32:57.799 --> 00:33:01.160
always want to hear from you, and I do appreciate it.

409
00:33:01.839 --> 00:33:03.559
I also want to mention if you happen to be

410
00:33:03.599 --> 00:33:07.440
near Cleveland on the first weekend of April twenty twenty

411
00:33:07.480 --> 00:33:12.319
five albeit Cinema Wasteland Convention in Strongsville, Ohio, I'd love

412
00:33:12.319 --> 00:33:15.559
to see you there. It's just outside Cleveland, somewhat near Akron,

413
00:33:15.880 --> 00:33:18.359
and I'm there twice a year, So if any of

414
00:33:18.440 --> 00:33:21.279
you spookies are out that way, come and say hi.

415
00:33:21.799 --> 00:33:24.119
And remember, if you love what we're doing here at

416
00:33:24.160 --> 00:33:27.200
Weekly Spooky, you can support us in a very direct

417
00:33:27.200 --> 00:33:31.039
way by going to Weeklyspooky dot com slash join. For

418
00:33:31.079 --> 00:33:33.519
as little as one dollar a month, you get two

419
00:33:33.559 --> 00:33:37.839
bonus episodes every single month, back catalogs of creepypastas and

420
00:33:37.880 --> 00:33:40.720
audiobooks and so much more. And speaking of I want

421
00:33:40.720 --> 00:33:42.960
to say an extra special thank you to our Patreon

422
00:33:43.079 --> 00:33:46.160
podcast boosters, folks who pay just a little bit more

423
00:33:46.400 --> 00:33:48.240
to hear their names at the end of the show.

424
00:33:48.440 --> 00:33:51.680
And they are Kait and Lulu, Jessica Fuller, Johnny Nix,

425
00:33:51.759 --> 00:33:55.640
Jenny Green, Amber Hansford, Brent McCullough, Karen we Met, Jack

426
00:33:55.680 --> 00:33:58.079
Kerr and Craig Cohen. Thank you all so much for

427
00:33:58.119 --> 00:33:59.960
your support. And if you want to hear your name

428
00:34:00.440 --> 00:34:03.880
at the end of the program in my spooky, silky voice,

429
00:34:04.119 --> 00:34:07.400
just go to Weeklyspooky dot Com slash join at the

430
00:34:07.440 --> 00:34:10.599
fifteen dollars a month or higher tier you get to

431
00:34:10.639 --> 00:34:12.800
hear your name at the end of Weekly Spooky and

432
00:34:13.159 --> 00:34:17.239
Terrifying and true every single week. But now, my friends,

433
00:34:17.280 --> 00:34:19.239
it's time for me to get back to work. So

434
00:34:19.360 --> 00:34:23.280
many scary stories to tell, so little time. So I

435
00:34:23.320 --> 00:34:26.599
hope you're all doing well. You're healthy, happy and keeping

436
00:34:26.599 --> 00:34:30.039
it creepy for myself, For my executive producers Rob Fields,

437
00:34:30.079 --> 00:34:33.559
Markshields and Bobbletopia dot Com, my producer Dan Wilder, and

438
00:34:33.599 --> 00:34:37.400
my composer Ay Mattis, we will talk at you next time,

439
00:34:38.039 --> 00:34:41.239
so avoid the woods. Thank you for listening to me.

440
00:34:42.079 --> 00:34:45.800
Make sure to find your way back next week. But

441
00:34:45.960 --> 00:34:50.920
for now you are safe, trust me.