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<v Speaker 1>This program is intended for mature audiences only.

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<v Speaker 2>You are not listening to observe the radio.

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<v Speaker 3>Good evening listeners. It's me Purporina at Observable Radio. We're

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<v Speaker 3>tinkering away at season two. If you'd like to see

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<v Speaker 3>a taste of what we're building up to, please check

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<v Speaker 3>out our Patreon, which is linked in the show notes

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<v Speaker 3>and on our website. Tonight's story is about a person

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<v Speaker 3>who never consciously knew she wasn't at home in this world,

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<v Speaker 3>but lived her life going through the until something profoundly

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<v Speaker 3>strange happened to her. But first, a word from the

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<v Speaker 3>Observable Radio Company store.

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<v Speaker 4>Following exposure to Observable Radio, you or your loved ones

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<v Speaker 4>may find yourself struggling with any of the following.

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<v Speaker 3>Symptoms strying out ey eyes, Tonsleston's anxiety, dread at essential

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<v Speaker 3>to spare anti capitalist you, rotation's loving a skin, blassy,

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<v Speaker 3>emotional apetite, development of bony plates, dancing, minian systemic discuss,

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<v Speaker 3>crossed peperal confusion, rickets, alvalescents, or dysentery.

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<v Speaker 4>If so, you may be entitled to get yourself a

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<v Speaker 4>nice little treat from the Observable Radio Company store where

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<v Speaker 4>you can find yourself pins, stickers and t shirts. It

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<v Speaker 4>won't fix what els you what. They're pretty neat. You

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<v Speaker 4>are now by prom observable.

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<v Speaker 5>Radio turning over. There was something stuck in her throat.

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<v Speaker 5>She was no stranger to tonsilstones, those nasty, calcified bits

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<v Speaker 5>of food debris that got caught in her tonsils. But

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<v Speaker 5>typically she could get them out on her own, just fine.

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<v Speaker 5>A vigorous cough here, a poke with a cute tip there,

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<v Speaker 5>and she was good to go. She even got so

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<v Speaker 5>used to the process that sometimes she could dig them

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<v Speaker 5>out with her finger, not even looking in the mirror.

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<v Speaker 5>It was disgusting, but it worked. This this felt different.

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<v Speaker 5>She tried to ignore the fact that she had the

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<v Speaker 5>sore throat for days with no relief, no matter what

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<v Speaker 5>she tried. She was now on day fourteen of salt water,

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<v Speaker 5>gargling a rigorous hydration schedule and possibly brushing her teeth

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<v Speaker 5>a little too often. Never before had she found herself

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<v Speaker 5>so distracted by something that was usually a non issue.

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<v Speaker 5>She forced herself to swallow saliva, as though that would

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<v Speaker 5>bring any relief, and tried to put it to the

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<v Speaker 5>back of her mind. She had completely zoned out the

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<v Speaker 5>last fifteen minutes of her meeting with the regional director,

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<v Speaker 5>who was looking to her for an answer to a

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<v Speaker 5>question she never heard. The pain in her throat throbbed

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<v Speaker 5>that evening. She widened her mouth as much as possible

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<v Speaker 5>and hit the usual angles with her phone's flashlight so

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<v Speaker 5>she could peer right into the crips of her tonsils.

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<v Speaker 5>A doctor once told her that they were exceptionally large.

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<v Speaker 5>She thought it somewhat amusing that this would be the

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<v Speaker 5>one area in her life where she could be considered exceptional.

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<v Speaker 5>As she looked down her throat, she couldn't see the whitish,

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<v Speaker 5>yellowish lumps that she expected. In fact, for the most part,

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<v Speaker 5>her tonsils looked normal. As she slowly moved the light

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<v Speaker 5>to see between the fleshy crevices, something unfamiliar caught her eye.

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<v Speaker 5>She almost dropped her phone. There, toward the back of

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<v Speaker 5>one of her tonsils was a dark spot. She felt

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<v Speaker 5>like she stared at that spot for hours, but no

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<v Speaker 5>matter how hard she looked, she was unable to identify

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<v Speaker 5>this odd form. It definitely seemed solid, not like a scab.

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<v Speaker 5>On the surface of her tonsil. She could feel her

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<v Speaker 5>heart beat quickened, fighting tears and the urge to look

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<v Speaker 5>up dark spot on tonsil is at cancer on the Internet.

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<v Speaker 5>She quickly washed her hands and went straight to bed.

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<v Speaker 5>After an hour of lying in the dark, she finally

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<v Speaker 5>felt herself drifting off to sleep. She heard faint whispers

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<v Speaker 5>of her name, which she ignored. Just like the tonsil stones,

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<v Speaker 5>she was used to the hypnogogic hallucinations that came to

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<v Speaker 5>her from time to time. She had experienced them for

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<v Speaker 5>as long as she could remember, long before she even

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<v Speaker 5>knew that they could be considered scary by some folks.

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<v Speaker 5>By the time she was old enough to have that understanding,

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<v Speaker 5>their phantasmic visitations happened so frequently that she saw them

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<v Speaker 5>as completely benign. They were nothing more than the brain

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<v Speaker 5>getting its wise crossed. After all, the whispers faded to

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<v Speaker 5>nothing as she sank into the dark of a dreamless sleep.

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<v Speaker 5>For the next few days, she tried to ignore the

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<v Speaker 5>growing soreness in the back of her throat. She maintained

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<v Speaker 5>her tried in true Antitonsilstone regime, but it didn't seem

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<v Speaker 5>to help at all. Her sleep became more and more

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<v Speaker 5>restless every night, and she grew exhausted from sleep deprivation.

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<v Speaker 5>One night, she woke up in a panic. It was

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<v Speaker 5>still dark outside, Her heart was racing a mile a minute,

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<v Speaker 5>and she could see a figure standing at the foot

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<v Speaker 5>of her bed. It was a being that appeared skeletal

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<v Speaker 5>at first, towering above her at six or seven feet tall.

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<v Speaker 5>As she stared, she realized that it was not skeletal,

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<v Speaker 5>but an entity that was made of twigs and sticks.

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<v Speaker 2>It appeared to be.

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<v Speaker 5>Bound at the joints with twine or some other fibrous material.

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<v Speaker 5>Its triangular hair tilted down at her her with ampler

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<v Speaker 5>like bows jutting upwards and nearly scraping the ceiling. Its

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<v Speaker 5>arms reached out toward her, gnarled fingers widespread. She could

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<v Speaker 5>hear the creaking of wood straining against movement as the

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<v Speaker 5>being extended its limbs in her direction. A low rumble

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<v Speaker 5>accompanied its presence, like an earthquake, rattling only inside her

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<v Speaker 5>ear drums. She sat up and blinked, expecting it to disappear,

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<v Speaker 5>but the vision of the being lingered, its limbs still outstretched.

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<v Speaker 5>After a few moments, the being and the rumble finally vanished,

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<v Speaker 5>but she found it difficult to allow herself to breathe.

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<v Speaker 5>It was just another hallucination, she told herself, attempting to

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<v Speaker 5>soothe her nerves, But as she reorientated her body under

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<v Speaker 5>the covers, she was afraid to turn her back to

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<v Speaker 5>the corner where the entity stood moments ago. The next morning,

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<v Speaker 5>the pain in her throat was agonizing. It was worse

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<v Speaker 5>than the strip throat she remembered having as a child.

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<v Speaker 5>She called in sick to work and stood in front

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<v Speaker 5>of the bathroom mirror, stealing herself for what she might see.

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<v Speaker 5>She slowly brought the flashlight to her lips, afraid to

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<v Speaker 5>part them. She reminded herself doing nothing fixes nothing, and

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<v Speaker 5>allowed herself one more deep breath before dropping her jaw.

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<v Speaker 5>The dark spot was larger, It was more solid. Dread

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<v Speaker 5>resonated in her rib cage. Carefully, she stuck a cue

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<v Speaker 5>tip in her mouth to poke it. The spot was hard,

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<v Speaker 5>but it moved. It moved like a tonsilstone. That was

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<v Speaker 5>some small measure of relief that meant it could come out.

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<v Speaker 5>She took the cue tip and gently pushed the object

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<v Speaker 5>out toward the front of her mouth. It caught on

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<v Speaker 5>some of her tonsil flesh as it moved. Inducing a

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<v Speaker 5>terrible coughing fit. She hoped she wouldn't accidentally inhale the thing.

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<v Speaker 5>She had coughed violently, she managed to spit something out

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<v Speaker 5>into the sink. Through tears, she could see the object

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<v Speaker 5>sitting in the white porcelain. It looked like a raisin.

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<v Speaker 5>She picked it up to inspect it. The object unexpectedly

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<v Speaker 5>had a very rough texture that felt somewhat familiar. As

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<v Speaker 5>she examined it closely, she was shocked to discover that

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<v Speaker 5>it was a piece of bark, like tree bark from

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<v Speaker 5>the outside. She dropped it in surprise, and it tumbled

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<v Speaker 5>down the drain. She was simultaneously thankful that it was

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<v Speaker 5>out of her sight and angry that she had lost

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<v Speaker 5>her only physical evidence of this strange situation. On the

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<v Speaker 5>bright side, there didn't seem to be anything else in

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<v Speaker 5>her throat, aside from the slight redness and irritation from

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<v Speaker 5>poking at her tonsils. She went to bed, thinking she

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<v Speaker 5>could rest easy now the object was gone. She was wrong.

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<v Speaker 5>That night, she dreamt. She dreamt about a forest. It

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<v Speaker 5>was dark and warm and damp. She was inside this forest.

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<v Speaker 5>She heard shuffling in the trees around her. She moved slowly,

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<v Speaker 5>like she was wearing heavy weights on her legs. What

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<v Speaker 5>little dapple sunlight made it through the leaves above only

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<v Speaker 5>made it harder to tell where she was going. She

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<v Speaker 5>had to move forward deeper. She couldn't breathe, or she could,

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<v Speaker 5>but these lungs were not her own. They were foreign, borrowed.

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<v Speaker 5>Each breath felt like she was inhaling through a damp cloth,

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<v Speaker 5>straining to fill her chest with air. Her hum rumbled

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<v Speaker 5>in the forest around her, deep and thrumming. She knew

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<v Speaker 5>this noise. She knew it from a time when she

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<v Speaker 5>was too young to know to be afraid more, moving, more, shuffling.

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<v Speaker 5>She strained against the resistance of the thick air. It

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<v Speaker 5>was here, she could feel it. She made it to

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<v Speaker 5>the clearing. It was waiting for her, its limbs reaching

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<v Speaker 5>out toward her, its triangular head tilted at her. The

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<v Speaker 5>antlers appeared to grow before her, reaching higher and higher.

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<v Speaker 5>The shuffling grew louder and louder, until it crashed around her,

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<v Speaker 5>combining with a hum that was now so rich and

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<v Speaker 5>so heavy, creating such a clamor that it sounded like

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<v Speaker 5>boughs breaking above her head, until finally it was on

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<v Speaker 5>top of her, and it was all she could do

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<v Speaker 5>to nod do. She woke up in her bed, sweating

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<v Speaker 5>and crying. Her throat was dry. She forced herself to

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<v Speaker 5>work every day, knowing that she didn't have enough paid

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<v Speaker 5>time off saved up to stay at home rest. Her

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<v Speaker 5>hair started falling out by the handful in her showers,

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<v Speaker 5>and she stopped wearing make up. Her wardrobe shifted from

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<v Speaker 5>carefully planned outfits to barely meeting dress code as she

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<v Speaker 5>wore the most casual and comfortable clothes she could get

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<v Speaker 5>away with. She noticed that people stopped making small talk

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<v Speaker 5>with her in the office. Some of them even avoided

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<v Speaker 5>eye contact with her. She was too tired to care.

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<v Speaker 5>The dream became reoccurring, sapping her of her rest and

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<v Speaker 5>energy day after day. Every night, she stayed up later

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<v Speaker 5>as she dreaded returning to that clearing and hearing the

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<v Speaker 5>droning and the crashing. Strangely, she was never afraid in

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<v Speaker 5>the dream. It was almost like she was excited. But

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<v Speaker 5>the terror flooded back to her bones upon waking as

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<v Speaker 5>she ruminated on the fact that she did not know

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<v Speaker 5>what was happening to her or why her skin started

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<v Speaker 5>breaking out with what appeared to be black heads, not

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<v Speaker 5>just on her face, but across her limbs and torso.

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<v Speaker 5>There was one particular bump on her forearm that she

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<v Speaker 5>found herself picking at often. The sensation wasn't pleasant, but

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<v Speaker 5>it wasn't painful either. She knew she should leave the

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<v Speaker 5>bump alone, but she couldn't help it. One day, as

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<v Speaker 5>she absent mindedly picked at the bump, she noticed that

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<v Speaker 5>something was moving inside the enlarged paw every time she

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<v Speaker 5>poked it. She squeezed it, and it was clear that

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<v Speaker 5>the thing inside was much larger than the small opening.

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<v Speaker 5>It reminded her of the video she had seen of

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<v Speaker 5>butterfly lava, except it didn't move on its own. She

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<v Speaker 5>dug her nails into the flesh around the opening, coaxing

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<v Speaker 5>the object closer to the surface. She was surprised to

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<v Speaker 5>find something green coming out. It was still attached to

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<v Speaker 5>the inner layers of her skin, but it was clear

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<v Speaker 5>that whatever this was, it was rolled up in there.

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<v Speaker 5>She grabs some tweezers from her desk and got a

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<v Speaker 5>fur grasp. Pulling slowly and steadily, She could feel it

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<v Speaker 5>heavily anchored inside her arm as it resisted her but

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<v Speaker 5>she didn't stop. The dull pain barely registered in her

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<v Speaker 5>mind as she concentrated on the excavation. Relief overpowered this

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<v Speaker 5>stinging sensation. As the object was freed from her flesh,

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<v Speaker 5>she uncurled it and found that it was a leaf.

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<v Speaker 5>She was thoroughly unsure as to whether or not she

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<v Speaker 5>was hallucinating, and found herself giggling loudly at this bizarre veal.

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<v Speaker 5>Her manager called her into the office and gave her

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<v Speaker 5>information on stress related leave, encouraging her to consider taking

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<v Speaker 5>a break. The words bounced around meaninglessly, sounding as though

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<v Speaker 5>they were traveling to her ear drums through water. She

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<v Speaker 5>responded as though she was powered by a motor, going

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<v Speaker 5>through the motions of expressing gratitude and nodding. Though she

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<v Speaker 5>felt like some one else was guiding her through it.

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<v Speaker 5>She was too focused on the smell of damp moss

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<v Speaker 5>that seemed to come from nowhere. She lost track of

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<v Speaker 5>time even more. At home, she vaguely remembered a life

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<v Speaker 5>of paperwork. Was that yesterday, five weeks ago? She lost

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<v Speaker 5>her phone somewhere in the apartment. The battery was probably

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<v Speaker 5>long dead. Who knows if any one had been trying

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<v Speaker 5>to reach her. She didn't care. She was exploring her body.

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<v Speaker 5>Since she had found the leaf, she discovered other oddities

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<v Speaker 5>growing out of her paws. Some of them bore leaves,

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<v Speaker 5>just as the first one did. Some appeared to be

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<v Speaker 5>the start of twigs. Those wouldn't come out, no matter

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<v Speaker 5>how hard she tugged on them. In fact, pulling at

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<v Speaker 5>those seemed to make them stronger. Some of these growths

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<v Speaker 5>started happening in impossible places. She found a thorn on

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<v Speaker 5>one of her knuckles. Her teeth started to loosen. In

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<v Speaker 5>her gums, all of the flesh inside her mouth shifted

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<v Speaker 5>from pink to a sort of faint shade of green,

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<v Speaker 5>not quite as sickly green, more like something that seemed

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<v Speaker 5>to need sunlight to feed. She couldn't remember when she

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<v Speaker 5>stopped eating, but she kept showering. She spent more and

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<v Speaker 5>more time showering and letting. The bathroom become humid and foggy.

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<v Speaker 5>As the water ran over her, she found it nourishing.

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<v Speaker 5>One day, as she massaged her hair, she felt something

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<v Speaker 5>come loose. She expected another clump of hair, and she

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<v Speaker 5>was mostly right. Within the tangle, she found some kind

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<v Speaker 5>of vine. She smiled as she traced her fingers over it,

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<v Speaker 5>touching the delicate leaves attached to the stem. She was

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<v Speaker 5>delighted to find a small yellow flower near the end

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<v Speaker 5>of the vine. When she wasn't showering, she was dreaming.

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<v Speaker 5>She returned to the clearing over and over again. Now

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<v Speaker 5>she was earnestly trying to get close to the entity,

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<v Speaker 5>but she was never able to reach it. Before the

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<v Speaker 5>dream ended, what used to be tears of fear upon

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<v Speaker 5>waking were replaced with tears of sorrow. Every time she woke,

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<v Speaker 5>she found her body to be more stiff than before.

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<v Speaker 5>She struggled to bend her joints a little more every day.

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<v Speaker 5>Her skin was no longer as pliable as it once was,

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<v Speaker 5>as it slowly became a rough, protective shell. She felt

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<v Speaker 5>like her internal structure was somehow different with these still

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<v Speaker 5>bones inside her. Did her heart still pump blood? Did

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<v Speaker 5>it matter? Somewhere in the back of her mind, she

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<v Speaker 5>knew her days of exploration were coming to a close.

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<v Speaker 5>She knew that if she indulged too long, she would

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<v Speaker 5>be stuck and all of this would have been for nothing.

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<v Speaker 5>The day she left, she didn't bother closing the door

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<v Speaker 5>to her apartment. She simply found her keys and walked

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<v Speaker 5>to the car. She still had a full tank of gas. Good.

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<v Speaker 5>She knew she was moving slowly, but she was sure

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<v Speaker 5>that she left with plenty of time. She did not gps,

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<v Speaker 5>she knew exactly where she needed to go. She drove

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<v Speaker 5>until she met the tree line. She left the car

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<v Speaker 5>off the side of the highway, partially covered by some bush.

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<v Speaker 5>This time it was not a dream. She made her

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<v Speaker 5>way through the plants, each one a familiar sibling to her.

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<v Speaker 5>There was no man made path, but this did not

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<v Speaker 5>stop her. She did not need it. She made her way,

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<v Speaker 5>her limbs stiffening slightly more with every step. Her hands

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<v Speaker 5>were nearly frozen in place, her fingers now no more

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<v Speaker 5>than small branches, slightly twisted with lively green leaves bouncing

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<v Speaker 5>at the tips. She tried not to rush her pace

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<v Speaker 5>lest she break something and be unable to move entirely.

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<v Speaker 5>She could hear her limbs groaning in protest with every movement,

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<v Speaker 5>she willed them to keep pushing her forward. She could

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<v Speaker 5>hear the faint droning, and made her way in its direction.

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<v Speaker 5>The shuffling, she now realized was only her. She felt

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<v Speaker 5>a bit silly now, looking back at her initial reaction

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<v Speaker 5>to the dreams. If only she knew, if only she

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<v Speaker 5>could have seen back then, how freeing this would be.

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<v Speaker 5>Every step brought her closer to home. She approached the clearing.

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<v Speaker 5>The entity stood there, beckoning her with an outstretched arm.

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<v Speaker 5>As she made her way to it, ancient knowledge surfaced

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<v Speaker 5>from the depths of her mind, delicate blooms of story

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<v Speaker 5>and pictures that had been buried for so long. Such

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<v Speaker 5>an understanding would have been impossible to conceive of in

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<v Speaker 5>her lifetime before, But here and now there was nothing

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<v Speaker 5>but comprehension and acceptance. The entity guided her to a spot,

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<v Speaker 5>her spot there in the clearing, the remains of her

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<v Speaker 5>feet melted away as roots quickly grew over the spots

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<v Speaker 5>of flesh that were left. She stretched the limbs that

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<v Speaker 5>used to be her arms upward and tilted her face

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<v Speaker 5>to meet the sun. She could feel the roots penetrating

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<v Speaker 5>the soil beneath her, reaching the nutrients and moisture that

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<v Speaker 5>she craved, and she felt strong. An ancient song echoed

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<v Speaker 5>in her mind, and something within her clicked into place.

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<v Speaker 2>She made it.

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<v Speaker 5>She was here. She settled into her spot as the

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<v Speaker 5>song grew louder within her spirit, reverberating through her and

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<v Speaker 5>connecting her to her surroundings. Her body fully hardened in

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<v Speaker 5>its position, she was comfortable and at peace. Here she

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<v Speaker 5>could grow, and here she would be.

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<v Speaker 1>You have been listening to Observable Radio. Tonight's episode, Turning

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<v Speaker 1>Over was performed by The Ensemble featuring Maria Corcobado and

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<v Speaker 1>Jason Smith. Written by Perporina, produced by Cameron Suey, Phil

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00:20:31.880 --> 00:20:35.839
<v Speaker 1>Van Hest, Perperina and Wendy Hector. Edited by Cameron Suey.

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<v Speaker 1>Turning Over was originally published June fifth, twenty twenty one,

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00:20:39.039 --> 00:20:42.559
<v Speaker 1>on Gaily Dreadful for the twenty twenty one Gaily Helpful fundraiser.

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<v Speaker 1>Big thanks to Terry Minard for initially hosting the story

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<v Speaker 1>and supporting. Our psychology consultant is doctor Elissa Leal. Art

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<v Speaker 1>by Krinn Fletcher. Our theme is the back Rooms, performed

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00:20:53.039 --> 00:20:57.440
<v Speaker 1>by Mew. Additional music from this episode provided by Christian Anderson,

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<v Speaker 1>Blue Saga, Lennon Hutton, Tim Kool, Polar Nights, Ethan Sloane,

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<v Speaker 1>and August Wilhelmson. Observable Radio is listener supported thanks to

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<v Speaker 1>all of our patrons and listeners, including Kathleen John tid Russ,

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00:21:10.480 --> 00:21:14.680
<v Speaker 1>Rick Callison, Brianna Zach and Jasper. Patrons fund the production

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<v Speaker 1>costs of the show, as well as get access to

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<v Speaker 1>behind the scenes information, extra production material, a discount at

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<v Speaker 1>the Observable Radio Company Store, and an ad free early

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<v Speaker 1>release feed of this show, all at patreon dot com

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<v Speaker 1>slash Observable Radio. With the help of our patrons, we've

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<v Speaker 1>launched the Observable Radio Company Store at observable radio dot

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<v Speaker 1>com slash store. There you'll find stickers, enamel pins, and

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<v Speaker 1>our very first shirt on sale and shipping anywhere in

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<v Speaker 1>the work. We'd be grateful if you stop by to

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<v Speaker 1>take a peek. Thank you for listening, and stay tuned.
