Speaker 1: Calarogu Shark Media, Hello and welcome to Ghost Scary Stories.
This episode is titled eight Nights of Terror, Episode six,
The Cursed Costume.
Speaker 2: The bell above the door of Masquerade Memories jingled cheerfully
as Emma Reeves flipped the sign to open. The small
Halloween costume shop was a riot of color and texture,
packed to the brim with outfits ranging from the whimsical
to the macabre. As a college student working part time,
Emma usually found the job fun, if a bit monotonous,
but in the days leading up to Halloween, there was
a palpable energy in the air that set her nerves
on edge. Another day in Paradise, Emma muttered adjusting a
witch's hat on a nearby mannikin. As she turned her
head behind the counter, something caught her eye, a shimmer
of movement in the back corner of the shop where
the vintage costumes were kept. Frowning, Emma made her way
through the cramped aisles. The vintage section was her favorite,
full of genuine articles from bygone eras. As she approached,
she noticed a dress she didn't recognize. It was an
exquisite Victorian era, a gown all deep burgundy silk and
intricate black lace. That's weird, Emma said, reaching out to
touch the fabric. I don't remember unpacking this one. The
moment her fingers brushed the dress, a jolt of electricity
shot up her arm. The world around her blurred, and
for a split second, Emma saw a flash of a
grand ballroom, heard the echo of laughter and music. Then,
as quickly as it had come, the vision vanished. Emma
stumbled back, her heart racing what the hell well was that.
Before she could ponder it further, the shop door opened,
a group of giggling teenagers entered, and Emma was swept
up in the day to day bustle of retail. But
she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had settled over her,
nor could she keep her eyes from drifting to that
corner where the Victorian dress hung, seeming to shimmer with
an other worldly light. As the day wore on, Emma
found herself drawn to the dress again and again. Each
time she touched it, flashes of a life not her
own flickered through her mind. A grand manor house, a
handsome man with a cruel smile, a sense of terror
and betrayal, By closing time, Emma's curiosity had gotten the
better of her. She slipped the dress off its hanger
and into a garment bag, determined to investigate further at home.
As she locked up the shop, she failed to notice
the shadow that seemed to detach itself from the wall
and follow her down the street. In her small apartment,
Emma carefully laid the dress out on her bed. In
the soft lamplight, it seemed to come alive, the fabric
rippling as if stirred by an unfelt breeze. With trembling hands,
Emma began to undress. This is crazy, she muttered, but
she couldn't stop herself. It was as if the dress
was calling to her, begging to be worn. As Emma
slipped the gown over her head, the world around her
began to change. The walls of her apartment melted away,
replaced by the grand ballroom she had glimpsed earlier. Music swelled,
and figures in period dress swirled around her in an
elegant dance. A man approached, devastatingly handsome in a black tailcoat.
He extended his hand, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.
My dear Evelyn, he said, his voice smooth as silk.
I've been waiting for you. Emma tried to speak to
say that wasn't her name, but no sound came out.
To her horror, she realized she couldn't control her own body.
She was a passenger, trapped in the mind and body
of a woman who had lived over a century ago.
As the man Lord William Blackwood, she somehow knew, led
her in a waltz. Memories that weren't her own flooded
Emma's mind. Evelyn had been Lord Blackwood's wife, a vibrant
young woman with a passion for art and life. But
William was not the man he appeared to be. He
was cruel, controlling, and obsessed with the occult. Evelyn had
discovered his dark rituals, his sacrifices to entities beyond mortal comprehension,
and for that she had paid the ultimate price. The
ballroom scene dissolved, replaced by a dimly lit chamber Evelyn
Emma struggled against bonds that held her to an altar.
Lord Blackwood looming over her with a wicked knife. Your
sacrifice will open the way, my love, he said, his
eyes gleaming with madness. On all Hallow's Eve, when the
veil is thinnest, your blood will bridge the gap between worlds.
Emma screamed, the sound tearing from her throat and snapping
her back to reality. She was on her knees in
her apartment. The Victorian dress pooled around her. Sweat soaked
her brow, and she was shaking uncontrollably. Oh god, she gasped,
scrambling away from the dress. It's real, It's all real.
A cold laugh echoed through the room, and Emma whirled
to see a translucent figure materializing near her window. It
was Lord Blackwood, his form flickering like a candle flame.
Well done, my dear, he said, his voice a ghostly whisper.
You've awakened the dress. Now you will help me finish
what I started all those years ago. Emma shook her head,
backing away. No, I won't help you. Blackwood's smile turned cruel.
You don't have a choice. The dress has chosen you.
You're bound to it now as Evelyn was, and through you,
I will complete the ritual. That was interrupted with a
surge of spectral energy. Blackwood's ghost flew at Emma. She
felt a terrible, cold, envelop her seeping into her very bones.
Her vision blurred, the world spinning around her. When everything settled,
Emma looked into her mirror and gasped. Her reflection showed
her wearing the Victorian dress, her hair styled in an
elegant updo, but the eyes that stared back at her
were not her own. They burned with an other worldly light,
a mixture of Evelyn's terror and Blackwood's malevolence. No Emma whispered,
but the word came out in Blackwood's voice. This isn't possible,
but it was. Somehow the spirit of Lord Blackwood had
possessed her, merging with the lingering essence of Evelin in
the dress. Emma was still there, a prisoner in her
own mind, watching helplessly as Blackwood used her body to
smooth out the dress and check her appearance perfect. Blackwood said,
using Emma's voice, Now we have much to prepare Halloween approaches,
and this time nothing will stop the ritual. As Blackwood
guided Emma's body out of the apartment and into the night,
Emma struggled to break free, but the combined power of
the dress and Blackwood's spirit was too strong in her mind.
Emma screamed for help, hoping against hope that someone, anyone
might hear her psychic cry. Little did she know her
mental anguish was broadcasting on a frequency that a certain
late night radio DJ might just pick up across town.
Johnny mack McIntyre sat bolt upright in his bed, woken
from a fitful sleep by a voice in his head.
Help me, it, pleaded to dress Blackwood Halloween Knight. Johnny
rubbed his eyes, his conversation with the spirits from his
radio show fresh in his mind. Find the others, they
had said, the artist, the fisherman, the doctor. As he
reached for his phone to call doctor alex Chen, Johnny
couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out. The
threads of Milhaven's ghost stories were starting to weave together,
forming a tapestry of horror that threatened to engulf them all.
Halloween was almost upon them, and the final act of
this terrifying drama was about to begin.
Speaker 1: Ghost is a Calarogu Shark Media production, written and hosted
by Alexander Ian McIntyre, produced by Mark Francis. Executive producers
Mark Francis and John McDermott. Portions of this podcast may
have been created with the assistance of AI.
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