Hello, Hello, can anyone hear me? Is this working? I don't
know who you are or if anyone is even listening, but if you can
hear me, I I think I'm lost. I don't think anyone is listening.
Screw this. Trying this again, not because I think anyone is actually
getting these and it's not like they could even help me if they did.
But in a world that's not making a whole lot of sense right now,
it's nice to have something to do. So here goes audiologue entry number one.
My name is Skyler Henderson and I died about a week ago. My
name is Skyler Henderson, and I died about a week ago. At least
I think it's been a week. Time is surprisingly difficult to track when you
don't have a body. I mean, I still look like I have a
body, but when I try to do something like this, Yeah, I
just tried to open that door, but my hand went right through it.
Plus, I know this isn't my body because I watched my real body drop
to the ground the day that Atropost kept my life thread some help whiskey Jack
was couldn't find him anywhere. After watching my body fall to the floor,
I made my way outside, where a red four door sedan was waiting for
me. I didn't need to look at the sticker to know that it was
from six Stripped Incorporated. The drivers spotted me and started to roll down their
window, but I was already running the other way, or at least I
thought I was running away. I don't know. Directions are weird when you
don't have a body, Like there's more of them, more than just left,
right, front, back, up and down. It's like there are
these fold directions that I I can't really explain. I thought I was running
away from the car, but I accidentally stepfolded into one of those non three
dimensional directions that I don't have words for, and wound up in this cold,
colorless place. It was really disorienting and made me terrified of moving again.
What if I wound up someplace even worse than this silent, boundless space
where even the air seems too scared to tremble. Just as I was having
that thought, a light appeared in the distance. And that's what you're supposed
to do when you're dead right, walk into the light. The thing about
bright lights, though, is you never know whose whole them until it's too
late. The light was a trap. Never, I repeat, never walk
into the light. As I squinted and approached the light, I began to
make out the details of an old metal lantern. But behind that lantern was
an eight foot tall, shadowy creature with menacing wings and a pointed beak.
The entity was draped in a tattered robe that didn't do much to hide its
bony ribs. I stopped moving, and it let out a piercing cry,
so vile that I instinctively turned away. Luckily for me, I had retreated
into one of a new full directions. I should really find out what those
are called. That was at least four five days ago. I popped up
in the middle of a cemetery at about three in the morning. Might even
be the same cemetery where they interred my body. I don't know. I
was too scared to look. It seems silly, right, I'm already dead.
It's not like finding my grave is going to make me any less dead.
But I still don't want to know. Of course, I wasn't the
only spirit in the graveyard. There were some sad, half rotted children and
adults. Seemed like the older they were, the more of them. Had
rotted it away, almost like they were mirroring their decaying bodies. Let me
tell you that was not a pleasant thought. Still, it was nice to
have the company, even if we didn't talk much. So I stuck around
the cemetery for a couple of days, and it was actually daytime when I
first saw it. See living people naturally emit this kind of sap, almost
or honey. It's like the substance that they exude. But like honey,
different variables can come together to sheep the overall taste and texture of this thing.
Maybe taste isn't the right word. It's not like spirits eat it or
anything. Not really. But there was this freshly dead, brown haired kid
who'd already lost a nose and eyes to decomposition. Right well, this kid's
family came to visit the grave during the day, and even though I didn't
get anywhere near them, I could tell that the sap the living relatives produced
was warm and a little like butterscotch, but with a metal after taste due
to grief. Their sap was drawn to this child, and by the time
they left, the kid's nose and eyes had been restored. Not only that,
little pieces of sap kept drifting towards me, even from complete strangers.
They'd break off in pieces and slip right into my pocket. That's when I
remembered the cool black stone that Whiskey Jack had handed me all those months ago.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out a stone that was identical to
it in every way but to The stone had turned a brilliant white, and
it thrummed with warmth. Just then, every spirit in the graveyard whipped their
heads around to stare at me. Not all of the spirits were human.
Clearly having overstayed my welcome, I slipped toward one of the new fold directions
at random and wound up in this room. As far as I can tell,
none of my flesh or clothing is rotting off. I think I might
have the stone to thank for that. That bird thing found me again.
I've got to get out of here. Sorry to cut the short, but
I This show was made possible in part by our Kickstarter backers, Apocalypse Cowboy
on Twitter, Stephen Lafon from the Whichever Path podcast, Duane Farber, and
nineteen eighty five the podcast by Cherie Madewell. Special thanks to our muse on
Patreon Olivia. Thank you so much for believing in us. If you liked
to support the show, consider becoming a patron. You can also support the
show by writing, subscribing, and sharing with others. Sharing is carrying,
after all. Stick Shift Incorporated was written, produced, and set in Vancouver,
BC, which is the unseated shared traditional territories of the Coast Salish peoples,
including the territories of the Musquiam, Squamish, and Slighwatooth nations. This
episode featured Dietree Marie Bowie. Music for the show was composed by Anthony Louis
Sanchez. If you'd like to hear more of his work, visit Anthony Louis
Sanchez dot com or subscribe to his YouTube channel. Multo Rubato eighty eight.
Stick Shift Incorporated is a Microphones and Monsters production. You can find Stixhift Incorporated
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