Speaker 1: Hmm. Welcome to Season two or Dark Tails Uncovered. This
time we're delving into the chilling world of zombie Isle
White to the Living Dead. In this season, we're piled
back the layers of terror hidden on the mysterious Isle
of Wight, where ancient forces and the dead rise. Our
journey begins with chapter one, The First Shadows. The dusk
falls on the island, Strange occurrences shroud the land and unease.
The locals speak in hush, whispers of figures moving in
the fog, Shadows that seemed to have a life of
their own. What was once a peaceful coastal retreat is
now about to become a battleground between the living and
the undead. Prepare yourself for a gripping tale of survival,
dark history, and the terrifying unknown. Are you ready to
Uncover The First Shadows? Chapter one? The First Shadows? The
sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden
light over the Isle of Wight. Emm Renalds adjusted her sunglasses,
breathing in the sultry air, and she guided a small
group of tourists along the cliff side path overlooking the
English Channel. The sea was calm, its surface shimmering like
a liquid gold, and the distant cries of seagulls echoed
through the air. It was perfect summer evening, one of
those rare days where the island felt like a small
paradise detached from the world's struble. This spot here, Emma began,
pointing towards a rocky outcrop is known as the Needles,
one of the island's most famous landmarks. These chalked stacks
have stood here for millions of years, shaped by the
relentless power of the sea. The tourists gathered around, snapping
pictures and murmuring in appreciation. Emma had done this tour
countless times, her voice slipping into practice rhythm. But today
something felt different. There was a tension in the air,
the strange unease that prickled at the back of her mind.
She couldn't quite place it, but it lingered, just like
a shadow, just out of sight. As she continued the tour,
leading the group towards the old lighthouse that stood sent
all over the cliffs, Emma's phone buzzed in her pocket.
She glanced. She paused, glancing around her group to make
sure they were engaged with scenery. Before discreetly checking the screen.
A text message from her brother Tom flashed on her display.
Have he's seen the news. Something weird is happening in
sand Out Call me asap, Ever, frowned. Tom wasn't one
to be easily rattled. He worked as a paramedic on
the island, and he'd seen his fair share of strange incidences,
especially during tourist season when things got a little wild.
But urgency in his message unsettled her. Excuse me, everyone,
she said, turning to the group with a quiet smile.
Feel free to explore the area around the lighthouse. I'll
be right back. Torris nodded, already some wandering off to
take more pictures. Emma stepped away, dialing Tom's number as
she walked towards the edge of the cliff, where the
wind was stronger and the sounds of the waves louder.
He picked up on the second ring, Emma, thank god,
are you okay? I'm fine, just finishing at all. What's
going on? There's some kind of outbreak in sand Down
or something. The hospital was swamped with people coming in
with strained symptoms. It's nothing like I've ever seen people
are his voice wavered. Something she rarely heard from her
composed older brother. They're attacking each other ever, biting they've
lost their minds, and his grip tightened on the phone,
biting you serious, I wish I wasn't, Tom replied grim,
his tone grim. The police are setting up barricades and
the ferry services have been halted. They're trying to contain it.
But I don't know how bad it is yet. You
need to get somewhere safe, safe, Tom on on the
other side of the island. What do you mean safe.
I don't know how far it's spread. Just don't go
into any towns, Okay, stay away from crowds. I'm heading
to Newport to help out. If things get worse, head
for the house, stuck up on supplies and stay put,
Tom Wait. The line went dead, and were stared at
her phone, her heart racing. She looked out at the tourists,
laughing and chatting as if nothing was wrong, blissfully unaware
of the chaos that might be unfolding just miles away.
For a moment, she considered telling them, but the words
stuck in her throw. What could she say that there
was a strange, possibly dangerous situation developing. They'd think she
was crazy. Instead, she took a deep breath and forced
herself to stay calm. She needed more information before she
could decided what to do next. As she slipped the
phone back into her pocket, she noticed a man standing
on the cliff side path a little way off, staring
at and to see. He wasn't part of his group,
his clothes, His clothes were too disheveled, his stance too rigid. Sir,
she called out, taking a step towards him. Are you
all right? The man didn't respond. He stood complete. He's
still his back to her, the wind tugging at his
torn jacket. Something about the way he was standing so
naturally unrigid, so unnaturally unrigid, sent a shiver down her spine. Sir,
She called again, louder this time. The man's head jerked suddenly,
and he began to turn around. Emma's breath caught in
her foat throat as she saw his face pale, sunken eyes,
lips peeled back to revealed teeth that was strained stained
red blood. He staggered towards her, a low, guttural growl
escaping his throat, something between a growl and a moan,
and took a step back, her mind racing, No, this
can't be real, This isn't happening. But it was the man. No,
the thing was moving faster, now, lurching forward with unnatural speed,
Andma's survival instincts kicked. She turned and ran, sprinting back
towards the lighthouse, where the tourists were still scattered. Unaware
of the danger, Get back, she shouted, waving her arms frantically,
Get inside the lighthouse now. The tourists looked at her
in confusion, but the urgency in her voice drove them
to move. One by one, they scrambled inside the old
wooden door of the lighthouse. Emma ushered them inside, her
heart pounding, glancing back over her shoulder to see the man, no,
the zombie, still staggering after her. Once the last tourist
was inside, she slammed the door shut, bolting with trembling hands.
The others looked at her with wide, terrified eyes, some
clutching their cameras, others holding onto each other. The reality
of what was happening finally seemed to dawn on them.
What was that, one of the tourists and middle aged
women asked, her voice shaking I don't know, Emma replied,
leaning towards the door, trying to catch your breath, but
I think it's something very very bad Outside the sun
continued to set, casting long shadows over the island as
the first true Knight of Terror began