Blair Bathory
Appearances
Something Scary
Buried Screams
Didn't include that pre-branch or that moss-covered rock. Wenn der Wald entscheidet, schifft er sich langsam, patient, bis jeder Weg tiefer innen führt. They never found Alex, but a new video surfaced recently. It was posted from her old account, years after it had been deactivated. No description, no tags, just a black screen and the sound of leaves exhaling.
Something Scary
Buried Screams
The timestamp read April 22nd, but the year was next year. What if nature isn't just alive, but aware? Would you know if the ground beneath you was watching you? And if you love horror like we do, join us at patreon.com slash schnarl to get even more spooky fun. Sometimes when you disturb the darkness, the darkness follows you home. Like in this Guyanese urban legend inspired by Amarita.
Something Scary
Buried Screams
The younger hunter crouched silently in a makeshift platform he had constructed in a tree, several feet above the forest floor. It was a deep night in the jungle surrounding Santa Mission, Guyana. und die Dunkelheit um ihn herum war fast komplett. So dünn, dass es fühlte sich an, als ob die Bäume Licht bewegen. Aber es war ein guter Abend.
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Buried Screams
Er hatte bereits zwei Labas getötet und war optimistisch, dass er noch einen vor der Nacht fangen könnte. Nur 22 Jahre alt, Joseph Brown war bereits ein verabschiedeter Hüter. Geboren und geboren in der Kirche von Santa Mission, hat Joseph erwachsen, das Wald wie eine zweite Sprache zu lesen.
Something Scary
Buried Screams
Finally, my last story, some eyes don't blink. So, wanna hear something scary? Buried Screams. It's not what you hear in the woods that should scare you. It's who hears you. Like in this story inspired by Marcus. Als wir im vierten Jahrgang waren, gingen wir auf eine Klassenreise nach Islandwood, einem pflanzlichen Bildungszentrum, der sich in den schwarzen Wäldern von Bainbridge Island befindet.
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Buried Screams
Und jetzt, er wurde sogar von einem legalen Firmen in Georgetown bezahlt, um Wildmehl für ihre Kunden zu hüten. It was around 8 o'clock, the hour when the forest begins to feel a little less alive. Joseph knew from experience this was the time the Labas liked to roam. The jungle was quieter now, as if the trees themselves were holding their breath.
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Buried Screams
He adjusted his grip on the shotgun and was preparing to climb down from the platform to retrieve the second Labas. But then, a sound... Irgendwo unter ihm, hinter dem Baum, scharf, subtil, ein Fußweg, eine Branche, die unter Gewicht lebt. Er pausierte, hörte. Die Luft hat gewechselt. Er hat hunderten von Nachts allein im Busch gelebt, und er wusste seine Sprache intim.
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Buried Screams
Dieser Geräusch war nicht normal. Es war nicht das Rutschen eines Pferdes oder das Stöcken eines Predators. Es war deliberate. Etwas, das mit Zweifel bewegt war. Und es ging näher. Joseph kept his 12-gauge shotgun at the redhead and slowly switched on the torchlight. The beam pierced through the thick blackness, slicing into the underbrush where the sound had come from. Then his light caught eyes.
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Buried Screams
Two twin pinpoints of eerie, glowy reflection just hovering in the dark. He expected the eyes to be low to the ground, maybe a nocturnal animal caught mid-crete. But no, they were too high, chest height, then higher. The beam slowly climbed until it revealed the full outline of a man, or what looked like a man.
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Buried Screams
Tall, about six feet, and completely still, just standing there, staring directly at him. Joseph's chest tightened. The figure didn't make a sound, didn't flinch, didn't blink. Um rational zu sein, schlug Josef seine Flasche drei Mal ein, um zu sagen, ich sehe dich. Identifiziere dich. In der Wälder, es war ein einfaches, gemeinsames Gestütz.
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Buried Screams
Wenn die Figur eine Person war, ein anderer Wanderer, ein Lokaler, sie würden antworten, etwas sagen. But the strange man remained silent. Not a breath. Not a word. Then Joseph noticed something even stranger. The eyes. They weren't reflecting light. They were glowing. Like a cat's or something deeper in the food chain. No human's eyes did that. Not like this.
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Buried Screams
A cold shiver ran through Joseph's veins. The hair on his arms stood on end. His instincts screamed. This wasn't a man. He raised the shotgun and fired. The jungle erupted with the blast. A deafening boom tore through the silence, briefly illuminating the trees in stark, unnatural light. Then silence again. But not a normal silence. It felt wrong, hollow, pressurized.
Something Scary
Buried Screams
There was no scream, no impact, no sound of a body hitting the floor. The echo of the gunshot was swallowed instantly by the thick, human air, as if the jungle itself didn't want the noise. Joseph didn't wait. Clutching his shaka, he climbed down from the tree and ran, sprinting through the bush, dodging branches, tearing through the brush, his breath ragged.
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Buried Screams
The two miles to his home blurred into one endless corridor of shadows and rustling leaves. He left the Labus behind, left everything behind. When he reached his home, panting and drenched in sweat, he told his wife what had happened. She listened quietly, then said something that chilled him even more than the silence in the jungle. You shouldn't have shot it. You shouldn't even have seen it.
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Buried Screams
The next morning he returned to the spot with about ten other men from the village. The Labas were still there, but that wasn't all. They found blood. Thick splotches trailing through the underbrush and a jagged path like something wounded had tried to flee but wasn't running straight. The trail led all the way to Kamani Creek, miles away.
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Buried Screams
But there was no body, no evidence of where the thing had gone. Joseph later told the attorney who had hired him to hunt. The man paled and gave an unsettling warning. You must stop hunting. I had a bad dream about you. That might have been the end of it, just another strange story from the bush.
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Buried Screams
Human, or at least mostly, the bones were weathered, half buried and too clean, picked over by insects and scavengers. But what disturbed them most? There was no skull. Joseph crouched down and stared at the remains. We wanted to find the head, he later said. The head would have told us what it was, but there was none.
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Buried Screams
They waited for any word of a missing person, a report, a name, but nothing came. The villagers began to whisper. Some said the thing Joseph had shot wasn't a man at all, but a mass U-Kuramon, a creature from folklore, said to haunt the waterways, hairy, human-shaped, sometimes helpful, sometimes hostile. Es wurde gesagt, Leute aus Booten zu töten.
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Buried Screams
Es wurde gesagt, von den Ecken der Bäume zu schauen. Und dann begannen die village dogs zu verschwinden. Die Hühner verschwanden. Auch das Tier. Es gab Schatten. Eine tolle Figur. always just on the edge of torchlight, gone the moment anyone approached. Joseph, now 71 years old, still remembers that night with painful clarity.
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Buried Screams
He says he was being buckshot, powerful enough to drop a wild cow in his tracks. No human he assists could have taken a direct hit and fled for Mayos. Not without screaming, not without falling. And yet, it ran and vanished. Although he's still a hunter, Joseph admits he's never gone out at night in quite the same way.
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Buried Screams
He's killed jaguars, faced snakes longer than a man is tall, but nothing, nothing happened. Hat er ihn jemals gefreut, wie er ihn als Santa Mission gesehen hat? Er hofft, dass er es nie wieder sieht. Denkst du, dass der Dunkel Geheimnisse hat, die er von uns behalten will? Oder bringen wir die Dunkelheit mit uns, wenn wir reinsteigen?
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Buried Screams
Für die meisten Kinder war es ein dreijähriges Abenteuer mit Schmuck und Hiken und dem Lernen von Salmon. Für mich war es das letzte Mal, dass ich in den Wäldern sicher war. Es waren vier von uns, ich, Matt, Harrison und Jackson. Untertitelung des ZDF, 2020 Ein scharfer, metallischer Klick-Klick, als würde jemand versuchen, reinzukommen.
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Buried Screams
Könntest du jemals wirklich die Dinge auslösen, die dich zerstört haben? Oder folgen sie, wartend auf den richtigen Moment, um zurückzukommen? Untertitelung im Auftrag des ZDF für funk, 2017
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Buried Screams
If you have a story you'd like to submit, send me an email at somethingscaryatsnarled.com Don't forget to watch the video version of Something Scary over at youtube.com slash snarled And if you'd like to support the show and everything we do at Snarled, join our Patreon at patreon.com slash snarled Well, witches, I hope you enjoyed this week's stories.
Something Scary
Buried Screams
And let me know in the comments if you liked our new two-sentent horror story at the beginning. And like I said earlier, if you have one you'd like to share, leave me a comment or send us an email at somethingscaryatstarl.com. And I'll see you next week. Sweet screams.
Something Scary
Buried Screams
Aber die Tür wurde von innen geschlossen, und es war niemand in der Halle, als wir uns angeschaut haben. Wir haben es dem Wind verurteilt, oder vielleicht eines der Bewerber, der sich anschaut. Aber ich sah den Blick auf Harrison's Gesicht. Er hat es auch gehört. Und es klingt nicht wie der Wind. Die zweite Nacht war schlimmer.
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Buried Screams
Wir haben gerade unsere nachtliche Routine beendet, unsere Zähne in der riesigen gemeinsamen Bathroom. Sprinting barefoot down the hall like idiots. When Jackson dared us to sneak into the woods behind the lodge. Just for a minute. We'll be back before anyone notices, he said. So we slipped out with our flashlights. Through a side door near the mud run. The forest swallowed us whole.
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Buried Screams
The trails were slick. The trees gnarled like they'd grown angry. Twisted by time. In etwa zehn Minuten haben wir ein Klärgerät gefunden. Die Sonnenlicht fiel in Schläge, alles blutig-grün. Das war, als Matt es sah. Was ist das? Er schrie. Im Zentrum des Klärgeräts war eine seltsame Struktur aus Stein. Es sah aus wie ein Karren.
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Buried Screams
I sat silently in my tent listening to the sounds of snapping bones and guttural growls. When the sun rose and I peered out, all that was left were blood-soaked footprints leading right to my truck. Hi, I'm Blair Bathory and this is the Something Scary Podcast. Thank you so much for being here. Whether this is your first time or you're one of the brave souls who join us every week.
Something Scary
Buried Screams
Steine, die wie eine krüge Tauern stecken, aber nicht wie alles, was ich je gesehen habe. There were sticks tied with twine, bone-colored things arranged in a circle. A rusted bell hung from a branch above it, motionless. Jackson reached out and rang the bell. I still hear that sound sometimes. Not a ding, not even a chime. More like a sharp whine, like metal screaming.
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Buried Screams
It echoed through the forest. Then everything went quiet. Not late night in the woods quiet, but the kind that makes your chest hurt. No bugs, no wind. Just stillness. We should go, I said. And we did. We ran. Back in Room 203 we tried to pretend everything was normal. We didn't tell anyone, but we couldn't stop listening to every creak, every scrape.
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Buried Screams
That night, just after midnight, something fell in the janitor's closet. The door was locked like always, a heavy padlock hung from the outside. But we all heard it. A shift, a thud, then silence. We sat up in our beds, not saying a word. At some point, we must have fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion. I woke up at 5 a.m. to scratching, slow and deliberate, from inside the closet.
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Buried Screams
And something else, humming, a reedy off-key melody, like someone singing a lullaby through clenched teeth. I shook Harrison. As soon as he opened his eyes, the sound stopped. We sat there in the dark, too scared to breathe. I cracked the window for air. The fog rolled in, thick and cold. That's when the door opened. Es war Timmy, einer der Jungs aus Raum 210.
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Buried Screams
Er ist reingeworfen und hat überlegt, wie früh er aufgewacht ist. Wir haben uns nicht interessiert, wie oder warum er reingekommen ist. Wir waren nur froh, jemanden zu sehen. What's with you guys? he asked, eyeing our pale faces. I told him about the closet, about the sounds, about the thing we saw in the woods. He laughed until we mentioned the bell. That's when he got quiet.
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Buried Screams
My brother told me something once, Timmy said, about a thing called the Whistler. It lives in the Olympic Mountains. He said, if you hear anything whistling in the woods, you're already marked. It doesn't kill you right away. It waits, follows, gets into places it shouldn't. Like your closet. Stop messing with us, Matt muttered, but his voice cracked. No, listen, Timmy continued.
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Buried Screams
It rings a bell so you hear it. Once. And then it comes for you that night. You'll hear it whistle before it takes you. But if it stops... Das ist schlimmer. Wir starrten alle an ihm, nicht atmen. Nur dann kam ein kräftiger Schrein durch das Fenster. Nicht ein Tier, nicht ein Mensch, sondern ein Geräusch, der den Fog zerstörte. Wir schlugen alle. Dann, scratch, scratch, aus dem Klosthaus.
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Buried Screams
Wir warten nicht. Wir schlugen. Aber als wir den Knochen bewegen, klingelt es. Von außen. Keiner war in der Halle. We spent the rest of the night huddled together. Backs to the wall. Lights on. We didn't talk. Didn't blink. The next day, our teacher told us it was time to pack up. We didn't argue. We barely spoke. Room 203 had turned quiet and strange.
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Buried Screams
Like the air itself didn't want to be there anymore. Auf der Busreise zurück, habe ich die Wälder geblurrt und Schrecken von Grün und Schatten gesehen. Sobald wir den Bind aus dem Eilenwald umdrehten, habe ich etwas in den Bäumen gefangen. Eine Figur, nur über der Bäume, groß, flach.
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Buried Screams
thin perfectly still like it had been waiting i blinked and it was gone none of us ever talked about it again matt moved away the next year harrison stopped answering my text by middle school jackson switched schools and wouldn't meet my eyes when i pressed him at the grocery store years later but sometimes in the deepest part of the night i wake to a sound a soft whistle Slow and off key.
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Buried Screams
Not outside. Inside. In my closet. At first, I thought it was my imagination. Then I heard the scratching. The quiet tap, tap, tap of fingernails on wood. And last week, I found dirt on the floorboards. Pine needles. Like something had been coming and going. I don't sleep much anymore. Because the Whistler waits. Not in the woods. Not in the mountains. It waits in the places that we feel safest.
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Buried Screams
And I hope you enjoyed that two-sentence horror story at the opening of this podcast. If you have one you'd like to share with us, drop it into the comments or send me an email at somethingscaryatsnarl.com. We might even add it to next week's podcast. Manchmal ist der Boden unter dir nicht so fest, wie es scheint. Es schifft, atmet und erinnert. Der Wald wächst nicht nur.
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Buried Screams
And once it finds a way in, it never leaves. Not until you do. What would you do if you heard a whistle in the dark? Could it have followed you home? Do you think it was in their closet? Tell us your thoughts in the comments The forest doesn't need to chase you. It just waits. Like in this story inspired by Japan's Dancing Trees and written by Sarah. Sie haben ihr Telefon zuerst gefunden.
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Buried Screams
Gesicht in der Mosse, immer noch merkwürdig enthalten. Kein Blut, keine gebrochenen Brüste, nur ein Telefon, das dort saß, als ob es süßlich eingepackt wurde. Ein feiner Inbruch in der Untergröße, wo sie fallen oder knallten musste. Die Batterie hatte lange gestorben, aber nicht bevor 24 Stunden von Fotografie streamten. Die meisten von ihnen waren Routinen, schäbige Fotos von zerstörten Beinen,
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Reckless Commentary on insane moss density and that wide-eyed, over-caffeinated YouTube energy. Let's get primal today, fam! Happy Earth Day, respect the land, lead no trace, right? Aokigahara hat nichts auf dieser Insel. Ich schwöre. Die Bäume bewegen sich. Das Video hat die Runden gemacht. Reddit hat es frame-by-frame ausgewählt.
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Aber das letzte Video, das kurz vor Mittwoch veröffentlicht wurde, war das, was geblieben ist. No tags, no music, just a title. The forest is breathing. It knows I don't belong here. And then, in the glow of her headlamp, the sound of leaves shifting, the lungs drawing in a slow, shallow breath. After that, only silence.
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Buried Screams
Sie sagten, ihr Name sei Alex, Backpacker, Solo-Trekker, besessen mit remote Trails und off-grid-Vibes. Yakushima-Inseln war ihr Erdzeit-Pilgrimage. Unbekannte Seeders, jahrhundertelange Routen, UNESCO-Level-Peace. Sie war nicht die erste Hikerin, um zu verschwinden, aber sie war die erste, um am 22. April zu verschwinden.
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Buried Screams
Und ein Forst, das die Lokalen schreit, lässt dich nur weg, wenn es dich wählt. Sie sagen, es passiert einmal im Jahr. Eine Seele ist zurückgeflogen. Der Wald wartet patient und dann fliegt es. Alex hatte ihren Hike von Shiratani begonnen, folgendem markierten Weg. Zumindest zuerst.
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Buried Screams
Die frühen Videos zeigten Sonnenlicht, das über mossige Bäume fliegt, Flüsse, die über Wolken wie aus einem Ghibli-Film fliegen. But somewhere around hour six the trail changed. Not dramatically, just subtly wrong. Markers vanish, trees bent at odd angles, as though leaning into whisper. A few had growths, bulbous knots or hollows that looked too much like eyes, like mouths caught mid-word.
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Buried Screams
Alex laughed it off, calling it anime-level weird. Dann hat ihr Kompass angefangen zu spinnen. Das ist nicht wahr, hat sie auf der Kamera gesagt. Nervös. Sie hat den Dial zu lange gehalten, als ob sie wartet, es zu lösen. Aber es hat es nicht gemacht. Dann hat sie ein wenig gestürzt, als ob die Gravität für einen Sekunden nach links geflogen ist. Ihr Atem hat nur einmal geflogen, trotz des Heites.
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Buried Screams
Der Wald hat stillgehalten. Sie hat ihr Telefon-GPS gecheckt, aber das Signal ist gestorben. Sie ist immer noch da. Das ist die Art von Ehrgeiz, die man mit einem Überlebensreise-Hike live streamen muss. Aber die Wälder sind kein Fan von Selbstvertrauen. Bei Twilight haben die Videos einen anderen Ton genommen. Weniger Kommentar, mehr Ruhe.
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Buried Screams
Das einzige Audio sind Brüder, die im windlosen Luft fliegen. Die Flasche ihrer Schuhe, in einer einmal feinten Stimme, nicht ihres. Hast du das gehört? fragte die Kamera. No one did. She laughed weakly. Probably just an echo. Or a bird, right? The forest didn't answer. The lens shifted toward the trees. Gnarled trunks stood like frozen dancers mid-step.
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Buried Screams
Er schaut, schreit und wartet auf dich. Jeder Schritt, den du nimmst, erwacht etwas, das geblieben sein sollte. There are places where the earth hungers, where the trees are hungry for more than just your fear. And once you've crossed the line, there's no going back. So, my spooky listeners, happy Earth Day, or should I say, beware. First, marked by midnight, followed by it breathes beneath you.
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Buried Screams
One root twisted mid-air, curling as if it had been in motion. She paused, then muttered. I swear that tree was facing the other way earlier. No one responded. The forest isn't big on conversation. Sie hat weniger darüber gesprochen. Seine Atmung wurde lauter in den Rekordungen. Schallig, ungewiss. Sie hat unter ihrem Atem gesungen. Unzumutbar und schräg.
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Buried Screams
Ein Video zeigte ihr, dass sie die selben selben, selben, selben, selben, selben, selben. Die Zeitplätze waren Minuten entfernt. Die Lokalisten nannten es Kotaimori, der Wald von schiffenden Körpern. Sie sagen, dass seine Rüste tiefer als Böden strecken, dass seine Bäume alles in ihr verbleiben. Dass am Erde-Tag der Wald wacht, nicht mehr ein Ort, sondern ein Wesen.
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Buried Screams
Und wie bei jedem lebenden Ding, muss es füllen. Nicht auf Blut, nicht genau, aber auf Leidenschaft. Um 11.52 Uhr hat Alex das letzte Video gemacht. Die Kamera hat zu ihrem Körper geschlüpft. All das, was wir sehen, ist ein langsamer, Seite-zu-Seite-Schwingen, als sie aufwacht. Als ob der Wald sie schlägt, sie schlägt.
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Buried Screams
There's movement up ahead, leaves shifting without wind. Branches twisting mid-frame. Not fast, just wrong. Then clearly, a groan, like wood flexing under weight. Except no one is stepping on it. The lens tilts. The trees are circling now, like a spiral. A quiet, subtle dance that only makes sense if you stop blinking. She turns the camera slowly, toward the trees, where something had been.
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Buried Screams
Not a figure, just the echo of where one might have stood. Something rustles close. Too close. Her breath hitches. The trees don't move, but the shadows between them seem to deepen. Then, just before the footage cuts, there's the faintest impression of a handprint forming in the moss beside her foot, pressing doubt. The forest is breathing, she says, voice cracking. It knows I don't belong here.
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Buried Screams
And then the footage ends. Search teams combed the area, found the pack. The stick was gone. No tracks, no struggle. Just the phone, perfectly placed, like someone had set it down or handed it off. People still hike there. Some try to recreate Alex's routine. Urban legends always attract the curious. But they say GPS fails in strange, specific ways.
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Buried Screams
That the trees bend to form new paths behind you. And that if you listen, really listen, you're going to hear a low hum, pulsing underfoot. A breath. Once a year, the earth takes someone back. It's never the worst people. Not killers or oil executives. Just someone who thought the rules didn't apply to them. Someone who thought, leave no trace.
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Death Lingers in Silence
Yeah, but the flowers, they weren't just left there. They were placed there. I frowned. "'What are you talking about?' He turned around and looked at me, his eyes wide with something like dread. When we were at the shop, I asked the owner about the flowers. He said he remembers them vividly. They were the last bouquet he ever sold before the shop closed.
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Death Lingers in Silence
Sometimes the cost of your dreams isn't measured in money, but in something far more precious, like in this story inspired by Shelby Lane. Drake felt that life had been completely unfair to him. Despite being a talented, aspiring musician, he was having no luck and was currently between jobs. To add to his misery, his friend Connor, an artist, had experienced a recent boom of tremendous success.
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Death Lingers in Silence
He thought it was strange, but he never sold them to anyone. My blood ran cold. There was no way my aunt could have gotten those flowers unless... unless they had been sent by someone who had no business doing so.'" Someone who had been in that apartment before her. Someone who had been there long before she ever thought to move in. And I realized then, it wasn't just the flowers.
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Death Lingers in Silence
It was the apartment itself. It had been waiting for her, waiting for someone. And whoever sent those flowers hadn't just wanted to leave a gift. They wanted her there. They needed her there. But for what? I didn't know. and I don't think I ever will fully understand. What happened that day, what we learned, was only the beginning of a much deeper mystery.
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Death Lingers in Silence
One that feels like it's still alive in the apartment, still watching, waiting. And it's been years, but sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still feel it. The eyes of whatever or whoever is inside those walls, watching, always watching. What would you do if you found out that something had been waiting for you long before you ever moved in?
Something Scary
Death Lingers in Silence
Do you think there is anything hiding in the walls of your home? If so, tell us your story by sending us an email at somethingscaryatsnarled.com. They say envy can twist the human heart into something monstrous. Like in this story inspired by Kiki, In a small town nestled in the hills of West Bengal, there were two sisters, Asha and Priya. Asha, the older of the two, was the epitome of grace.
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Death Lingers in Silence
She was a beauty not just in face, but in spirit. Her smile could light up even the darkest corners, and her kindness was known throughout the village. She had a way of making everyone feel special, making her the center of admiration wherever she went. Priya, the younger sister, adored her. She even looked up to Asha with a reverence that bordered on worship.
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Death Lingers in Silence
But as the years went by, something dark began to simmer inside Priya. A feeling that she couldn't shake, no matter how hard she tried. No matter how much she admired her sister, the truth gnawed at her heart. Asha was everything Priya could never be. The whispers in the village only made it worse. Asha, the perfect one. Asha, the graceful one.
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Death Lingers in Silence
Asha the kind-hearted beauty and Priya, as much as she loved her sister, could feel herself slowly becoming invisible. The jealousy started small. At first, it was a bitter taste whenever Asha received praise or attention. Priya tried to bury it, convinced that it was just a phase. But as the years passed, the jealousy grew into something darker, more sinister, and less controllable.
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Death Lingers in Silence
Priya began to resent her sister, not for her kindness, but for her ability to draw love and admiration so effortlessly. Each smile Asha gave to someone else, like the knife in Priya's heart. Then came the night that everything changed. Asha was to be married to a well-known man from a neighboring town. The village was buzzing with excitement. This was a union that would bring great joy to all.
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Death Lingers in Silence
Priya was expected to be a bridesmaid, to stand beside her sister in celebration. But as she watched Asha try on her wedding dress, her heart broke all over again. Asha's beauty was incomparable. She was radiant, as if the world itself had conspired to make her perfect. Priya stared at her sister, a hollow emptiness filling her chest. That night, something inside Priya snapped.
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Death Lingers in Silence
In the dead of night, as the village slept under a blanket of darkness, Priya waited. She crept into Ash's room, where her sister lay asleep, unaware of the growing storm in her sibling's heart. Priya's hand trembled as she picked up the sharp, glistening knife from the kitchen. She could feel the weight of the blade, the coldness of it, matching the coldness in her soul.
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Death Lingers in Silence
This was the only way to make herself feel free, the only way to rid herself of suffocating envy that had strangled her for so long. With a breathless whisper, Priya leaned over her sister's sleeping form. She hesitated for a moment, the face she had once adored now something she could no longer bear. And then, in one swift, terrifying motion, Priya ended Asha's life.
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Death Lingers in Silence
The silence that followed was deafening. Asha's blood stained the sheets, and the room filled with the scent of death. Priya stood over her sister's body, staring in disbelief at what she had done. But there was no turning back. She had freed herself from the poison of envy. Only now, she was shackled by something far worse. The next morning, the town awoke to tragedy.
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Death Lingers in Silence
Patrons paying hundreds of thousands, even millions, for his paintings and sculptures. Instead of feeling happy for his friend, Drake only felt envy. One night, while the two were enjoying drinks at their favorite bar, Connor sensed the tension in his friend. Reaching into his pocket, he handed Drake a business card.
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Death Lingers in Silence
Asha's death shocked everyone and the grief that swept over the village was palpable. Priya played the part of the mourning sister well, shedding fake tears, her heart pounding with fear at the thought of being discovered. But deep down, she knew that the act of violence she had committed had set something into motion, something she couldn't control.
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Death Lingers in Silence
The curse, they would say later, began that night. Priya's life was never the same. She felt a growing unease, as though the world inside her had shifted into something darker. The villagers, though they mourned Asha, began to whisper about strange occurrences that followed her death. Priya couldn't sleep, she couldn't eat.
Something Scary
Death Lingers in Silence
Every night she felt as though something was watching her, stalking her in the shadows. A cold presence that never left her. Then, it began to happen. During weddings, during childbirth celebrations, whenever there was happiness in the air, Priya's guilt began to manifest.
Something Scary
Death Lingers in Silence
First, it was small, an uneasy feeling at a wedding feast, a sudden cold gust of wind that would send shivers through the guests. But then it escalated. Brides would suddenly fall ill, their faces pale and drained. Infants would cry uncontrollably, as though terror had gripped them from the inside.
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Death Lingers in Silence
Priya could feel the eyes of the villagers on her as she stood in the middle of it all, but she was helpless. She had no explanation. And then, one night, after a particularly disturbing incident at a local wedding, Priya saw it. The thing that had been stalking her waiting. It was a shatter, draped in the blackest night, standing at the edge of the wedding hall.
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Death Lingers in Silence
Its face, once familiar, was now twisted into something grotesque. A face that no longer held any trace of Asha's beauty, only rage. Priya's heart stopped as she realized the truth. This was Asha, or something like her. Asha's spirit consumed by the envy she had died with. She had become a pret-atma, an angry ghost, doomed to wander the earth bringing misfortune wherever she went.
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Death Lingers in Silence
The villagers were terrified. They knew that no matter how they tried to keep their celebrations joyful, the Pret Atma would find its way in. Priya tried to flee, but wherever she went, the ghost followed her, appearing in the shadows. In the reflection of mirrors and the silence of the night, it was Asha's face, but twisted, distorted, filled with the unrelenting bitterness of jealousy.
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Death Lingers in Silence
The woman who once embodied beauty and grace had become the very thing that had always been feared. As years passed, the town developed strange rituals to protect themselves. They tied black threads around babies' wrists and smeared coal on their faces to ward off the phase of pret-atma. But even these precautions couldn't stop it entirely.
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Death Lingers in Silence
The spirit of jealousy lived on, tormenting the living, feeding off the misfortune it caused. And Priya? She was cursed forever to witness the destruction her envy had wrought. Her sister's ghost always lurking in the background, a constant reminder of the price she had paid for her bitterness. Have you ever felt envy so deep that it started to consume you?
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Death Lingers in Silence
"'There's someone who can help you,' goes by the name of Miss L. She helped me to get where I am. I owe it all to her." Drake snatched up the card, his eyes roving hungrily over the gleaming gold letters. Connor's expression was one of concern. "'Just be careful, man. Her price is steep.'" The next day, Drake followed the address written on the card, leading him to a palatial townhouse downtown.
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Death Lingers in Silence
This week's podcast stories were edited by Sarah Lukasiewicz, narration by Blair Bathory, audio edited and mixed by Fitz Harris, additional audio editing by Calvin Linderman, produced by Anna Villalobos, executive produced by Gil Gilman, music by Sapphire Sandalo and Calvin Linderman. If you have a story you'd like to submit... send me an email at somethingscaryatsnarled.com.
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Death Lingers in Silence
Don't forget to watch the video version of Something Scary over at youtube.com slash snarled. And if you'd like to support the show and everything we do at Snarled, join our Patreon at patreon.com slash snarled. As always, witches, thanks for joining me this week. I hope you enjoyed these stories.
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Death Lingers in Silence
And don't forget to leave a comment and let me know what version of the video podcast do you like the most. We're listening to you and we want to hear what you think. Until next time, sweet screams.
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Death Lingers in Silence
As he approached, the door swung open on its own. A melodic voice called out, "'Come in. Come in. I've been expecting you.'" Wearily, Drake stepped through the threshold, marveling at the opulence of his surroundings. He followed the voice into a sitting room, where a woman lounged on a velvet chaise.
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Death Lingers in Silence
She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, voluptuous and slender, with simmering red-gold hair cascading down her back, jade-green eyes, and porcelain-like skin. She wore an ivory pantsuit, golden jewelry gleaming under the light. This was Miss L. She smiled at him, and Drake sank into an armchair across from her. Miss L spoke as if she had all the time in the world.
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Death Lingers in Silence
We've done a couple of variations of this, so let me know in the comments which one you like best. Sometimes, the things that haunt us aren't the ones we can see, but the ones we carry inside. The quiet jealousy that festers over time, the unspoken fears that linger in the corners of our minds, and the dark emotions we try to bury.
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Death Lingers in Silence
She already knew who he was and why he was there. Her calm demeanor unsettled him as she explained her offer. I don't take money. What I take is time. Confused, Drake asked, Time? Yes, time, she replied. But not just any time. I take time off your natural lifespan, she chuckled, her eyes gleaning with something dark. Your friend Connor was able to haggle me down in one month.
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Death Lingers in Silence
He promised to create a life-size portrait and a marble statue of me. Well, I simply couldn't resist. Drake's skepticism grew, but Miss L leaned in closer, her gaze intense. I'll do you one better. One single day of your life, Drake.
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Death Lingers in Silence
Fame, riches, endless adoration. Still unsure, Drake hesitated. One day... That's all, she assured him. Her voice had a melodic but dangerous edge to it. And when you agree, I won't collect for ten years. You'll live gloriously for a decade.
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Death Lingers in Silence
Without fully understanding why, Drake extended his hand and accepted. Deal, he said, his voice a little too eager. Miss L leaned back, a satisfied smile on her face. Then expect a surprise in the morning. That night, Drake lay in bed, restless, his mind racing. He hardly slept. But by 10 a.m. the next morning, his phone rang.
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Death Lingers in Silence
It was the head of a record label who had seen one of Drake's videos and wanted to sign him. His heart raced.
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Death Lingers in Silence
It had worked. The next 10 years of Drake's life was a whirlwind of fame and indulgence. He had everything he ever dreamed of, luxury, adoration, and power. But with success came excess. Drake gambled, drank, and used drugs. His behavior grew increasingly erratic. He abused his staff and took advantage of anyone who came in his way.
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Death Lingers in Silence
Worst of all was the event with Natalie, a young girl who had tried to stand up for herself. Drake's actions led to her tragic death, and yet the media turned against her. They called her a liar, and in the end, the girl took her own life. As the years went on, Drake became more corrupt. Even Connor, his once closest friend, couldn't stand him anymore and severed all ties.
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Death Lingers in Silence
Alone, Drake revealed in his power, his monstrous ego growing with every passing year. One night, after a late recording session, Drake received a call from an unknown number. Thinking it was his manager, he answered. A familiar, velvety voice echoed through the phone. Hello, Drake. Long time no see. Drake froze. He recognized the voice instantly. Time's up, Drake.
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Death Lingers in Silence
Hi, witches, I'm Blair Bathory, and this is the Something Scary Podcast. Thank you so much for being here. Whether this is your first time or you're one of the brave souls who join us every week. And if you're watching on Spotify or YouTube, you may notice we're doing another video version of the podcast.
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Death Lingers in Silence
Miss L continued, her voice chilling. Your payment is due tonight. Drake checked the date. It had been exactly ten years since their agreement. He groaned, already fatigued from the day. Can't this wait? It's late. No one keeps me waiting, Drake. Miss L's voice was sharp with authority. You know where to find me. Come now or else. And she hung up.
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Death Lingers in Silence
Drake drove quickly, feeling a mix of dread and exhaustion. When he arrived, the door opened before he reached it. Miss L was waiting for him, looking exactly as she had 10 years ago. This time, she wore a blood red gown, her beauty unchanging, as though she had not aged a day. She looked at him with a strange hunger in her eyes. Did you have fun these last ten years? She asked, sipping wine.
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Death Lingers in Silence
These are forces that shape our lives in ways we don't always understand. But be warned, when these shadows are unleashed, they have a way of taking control, and nothing will ever be the same again. First, fame at a deadly cost, followed by something sinister waits for you. Finally, in our last story, consumed by envy.
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Death Lingers in Silence
I heard concerning things about you. Gambling, drinking, mistreating others. Is this the legacy you want to leave? Drake scoffed. I'm just living my life. Who cares about anyone else? Miss L's gaze hardened. Even Natalie?
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Death Lingers in Silence
drake stiffened but his response was cold it was her fault she shouldn't have been out walking when i was drunk she begged me to stop but i knew what she wanted she killed herself that's not my problem miss l's eyes turned to ice and she checked the time one minute to midnight she murmured drake's smug grin faltered as he began to feel the weight of his sins Do you regret any of it?
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Death Lingers in Silence
Miss L asked softly, her voice dark. No. Drake answered without hesitation. I'd do it all again. Miss L smiled, twisting into something far more sinister. That's all I needed to hear. The clock struck midnight, and the room seemed to shift. Drake was suddenly seized by excruciating pain, his body feeling as if it were being torn apart.
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Death Lingers in Silence
As if he looked down, his body started to disintegrate into a wisp of black smoke. He collapsed on the floor, gasping in horror as Miss L stood above him, her appearance transforming into something monstrous.
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Death Lingers in Silence
ears elongated her features sharp and angular and her eyes glowed like hellfire her skin became even paler her hair whipping around as though caught in an invisible wind she towered over him her grin widening i knew from the moment i saw you drake she said softly you were a wretch undeserving of life a blemish of humanity Drake tried to speak, but terror had seized his throat.
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Death Lingers in Silence
He could only watch as his body continued to disappear. Misselle knelt, her voice cold and mocking. Care to know which day I took from you, Drake?
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Death Lingers in Silence
Drake's mind raced, full of regret. For all he had done, Misselle's voice echoed in his fading consciousness. Your greatest desire was to be remembered. But no one will remember you now. He will never have existed. As his head finally began to fade, Drake's last words were a desperate, Who? What? Are you? Misselle's voice was the last thing he heard, filled with cruel amusement.
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Death Lingers in Silence
I have been called many things, but you may know me as Lian Shi. I am the one who takes what's most precious when you dare to covet what you cannot earn.
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Death Lingers in Silence
Have you ever promised something that was too good to be true? Did you agree to do it anyway? If so, tell us your story by sending us an email at somethingscaryatsnarled.com. Sometimes it's the smallest things that hide the darkest secrets, like in this story inspired by Alicia. It was 2010 when my aunt, in her mid-20s, moved into her new apartment.
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Death Lingers in Silence
She had rented it from a friend who inherited the place after his grandmother passed away a couple of years before. The apartment was charming. The kind of place you could picture yourself settling into. Small, cozy, with a view of the city that felt like a secret. A few weeks after she moved, something strange happened. One day, she found a bouquet of flowers sitting on her doorstep.
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Death Lingers in Silence
They were fresh, vibrant, clearly bought from a flower shop. No card, no delivery notice, just the flowers. At first, she thought it was just a gift from a friend, maybe something to celebrate Dio de los Reyes, which was just around the corner. The thought of someone being kind enough to send her flowers didn't feel strange. It was almost comforting.
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Death Lingers in Silence
But before we get to our stories, I wanted to ask if you would take a minute to rate and review this podcast. It's one of the ways you can help Something Scary continue to grow, and it only takes a minute. We are so grateful for the support of all of our listeners around the world.
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Death Lingers in Silence
But when our family decided to celebrate the holiday at her place, our first time seeing her apartment, that's when the unease began. The moment we walked through the door, I felt it. There was something wrong with the place, something I couldn't put my finger on. But it gnawed at me, like a dark cloud hanging just over my head. The air felt thick. almost suffocating. But it wasn't just me.
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Death Lingers in Silence
My grandmother's reaction told me everything I needed to know. She stepped into the apartment, froze, and then her face drained of color. Her eyes darted around like she was searching for something. Or someone. I didn't say anything. I thought I was just being paranoid, but I could feel the wrongness deep in my bones, and I wasn't the only one.
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Death Lingers in Silence
My grandmother turned to my aunt, her voice low, almost frantic. You need to get out, she said. I could see the fear in her eyes. There's something wrong with the house. The words hit like a blow to the chest. My aunt stared at her, confused. What do you mean? There's something here. There's something you can't see, but you can feel it, can't you?
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Death Lingers in Silence
She stepped forward, her hand trembling as she clutched my aunt's arm. Has anyone been here before us? No, my aunt answered, her voice small. A silence settled over us, and then my grandmother's voice cut through the air like a knife. Did anyone send you anything? My aunt's face changed, her eyes widened, and for a second, I thought she might faint. She froze, caught in the question.
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Death Lingers in Silence
She didn't want to say it aloud, but I could see she was terrified. She finally spoke, her voice shaking. There were flowers, a few weeks ago. Someone left them on my doorstep. I felt my stomach drop. The same flowers, the ones that had been so innocuous at first, now felt like a signal. Like something was brewing just beneath the surface. Something dark and malevolent.
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Death Lingers in Silence
My grandmother didn't want to waste a second. She looked my aunt in the eye and said, Get rid of them.
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Death Lingers in Silence
The words rattled around in my mind. My cousin and I exchanged a glance, our unease growing. We knew what we had to do next. We left the apartment to look up the flower shop where the bouquet had come from. We didn't think it would be much of a lead. After all, flowers are flowers.
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Death Lingers in Silence
But the more we thought about it, the more we realized how strange it was that those flowers had been left there without a trace. No delivery, no note, no explanation. It wasn't the kind of thing you just forget. It took us a while, but we tracked it down. The flower shop was tucked away in an old part of the city, like it was trying to hide itself.
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Death Lingers in Silence
It was small, rundown, and barely noticeable, like the kind of place you would think was long forgotten. But the real shock hit when we discovered the shop had been closed for over 10 years. 10 years? ! How could that be? How could there be a fresh bouquet from a store that had been out of business for a decade? We stood outside the shop, trying to process the information.
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Death Lingers in Silence
My head spun with questions, each one darker than the last. Who had sent the flowers and why? There was something deeply wrong about this. If the flowers weren't from the past, then where had they come from? Who had placed them on her doorstep and why? My stomach churned as I thought about the possibilities.
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Death Lingers in Silence
I kept trying to tell myself it was just a coincidence, a strange one, yes, but not impossible. But then I thought about the feeling in my apartment, the way the walls seemed to press in on us, how the air turned thick and impressive the moment we stepped inside. It wasn't just the flowers, something more was going on.
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Death Lingers in Silence
The house itself felt alive, like it was hiding something just out of view, something that didn't want us there. We went back to my aunt's apartment, both of us in silence, the weight of the discovery hanging over us like a storm cloud. When we walked in, it felt different. The apartment seemed quieter, colder. It was as if the walls had changed.
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Death Lingers in Silence
They seemed to close in on us, as though they were watching, waiting. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I looked around at my aunt, who was sitting on the couch, her face pale. She seemed off, disconnected. She had been distant ever since we came back from the flower shop, as though she wasn't quite there. It was like she was somewhere else, staring at the walls, at nothing.
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Death Lingers in Silence
I wondered if she felt it too, the pressure, the suffocation. Then my cousin spoke up. He'd been quiet up until that point. You didn't see it, did you? He said, his voice barely a whisper. I turned to him, confused. See what? He stood up and walked over to the window, his back to mine. The flowers weren't from the shop, he said slowly. The shop hasn't been open for years.