Speaker 1: Calorogu Shark Media. Hello and welcome to Ghost Scary Stories.
This episode is titled Halloween Inheritance, Part One. The haunting begins.
Speaker 2: The crisp October air bit at Emily's cheeks as she
fumbled with her keys, struggling to unlock the front door
of her newly inherited Victorian mansion. The porch light flickered ominously,
casting dancing shadows across the weathered wooden boards. A gust
of wind rustled through the overgrown bushes, carrying with it
the faint whisper of laughter or was it a scream?
Emily shook her head, dismissing the thought. It was just nerves,
she told herself. After all, it wasn't every day a
twenty eight year old graphic designer suddenly became the owner
of a decrepit mansion courtesy of a great aunt she'd
never even met. As the key finally turned in the lock,
Emily couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.
She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes scanning the darkened yard,
nothing but shadows and the gentle sway of bare tree
branches against the starlit sky. The door creaked open, the
sound echoing through the empty foyer. Emily stepped inside, her
footsteps muffled by a thick layer of dust coating the
hardwood floors. The air was stale, heavy with the scent
of mothballs and something else, something older and more sinister. Hello,
Emily called out, her voice, wavering slightly. Is anyone here?
Silence answered her, broken only by the steady tick tock
of an unseen clock. Emily fumbled for the light switch,
sighing with relief as a dim bulb flickered to life,
illuminating the entrance hall. The foyer was a time capsule,
frozen somewhere between the elegance of the early twentieth century
and the neglect of recent decades. Ornate wallpaper peeled from
the walls, revealing glimpses of faded floral patterns. Underneath a
grand staircase curved upwards, its banister draped with cobwebs. Emily's
gaze was drawn to a large portrait hanging above the fireplace.
It depicted a stern looking woman with piercing blue eyes
and silver hair pulled back into a tight bun. Great
aunt Agatha. Emily presumed the woman's eyes seemed to follow
her as she moved, A disapproving frown etched onto her
painted features. Well aunt Agatha, Emily muttered, setting down her bags,
I guess it's just you and me now, As if
in response, a cold draft whispered through the room, causing
the chandelier to sway gently. The crystals clinked together, creating
an eerie melody that sent shivers down Emily's spine. Determined
to shake off her unease, Emily began to explore her
new home. Each room told a story of faded grandeur,
Dusty furniture draped in white sheets, tarnished silver gleaming dully
in the moonlight that streamed through grimy windows. As she
ascended the creaking staircase, Emily couldn't shake the feeling that
she was disturbing something. It was as if the house
itself was holding its breath, waiting to see what this
intruder would do next. The upper floor was a maze
of shadowy corridors and closed doors. Emily's hand hesitated over
each doorknob, her heart racing as she imagined what might
lie behind them. But each room revealed only more dust,
more forgotten relics of a bygone era. It wasn't until
she reached the end of the hall that Emily found
something truly unsettling. The last door was different from the others, older,
with strange symbols carved into its dark wood. As her
fingers brushed the intricate patterns, a jolt of electricity seemed
to pass through her. The door swung open of its
own accord, revealing a small, circular room. Unlike the rest
of the house, this space was immaculate, no dust, no cobwebs,
just gleaming hardwood, floors and walls lined with floor to
ceiling bookshelves. In the center of the room stood a pedestal,
and upon it rested a large, leather bound book. Emily
approached cautiously, drawn by an inexplicable force. The book's cover
was blank, but as she reached out to touch it,
golden letters appeared, as if by magic, the grimoire of
Aagatha blackwood. Emily's fingers trembled as she opened the book.
The pages were filled with strange diagrams, cryptic symbols, and
text written in a language she didn't recognize, But as
she flipped through, certain words seemed to leap out at
her spirits, summoning binding. A chill ran down her spine
as the realization hit her. This wasn't just any book.
It was a spell book. Her great aunt had been
a witch. Suddenly, the temperature in the room plummeted. Emily's
breath came out in visible puffs as she spun around,
her heart pounding. The door slammed shut, trapping her inside.
Who's there, she called out, her voice shaking. A disembodied
whisper answered, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
You don't belong here, child, this house, this power, It's
not for you. Emily clutched the book to her chest,
backing away until she hit the wall. Who are you?
What do you want? The air in front of her
shimmered and a translucent figure began to take shape. It
was the woman from the portrait, Aunt Agatha, but her
stern expression had twisted into something malevolent. I am the
guardian of this house and its secrets, the ghost hissed,
and you, my dear, are an unwelcome guest. Emily's mind raised.
This couldn't be real. Ghosts weren't real, and yet here
she was, face to face with the spectral form of
her great aunt. Please, Emily stammered, I didn't mean to intrude.
The house was left to me. I'm family. The ghost's
laughter was like breaking glass. Family, you know nothing of
our family's legacy, of the power that runs through your veins.
You are weak, unprepared for the responsibility that comes with
this inheritance. As Agatha spoke, other shapes began to materialize
around the room, shadow figures with glowing eyes, reaching out
with grasping, clawed hands. Emily pressed herself against the wall,
her heart threatening to burst from her chest. What do
you want from me? She cried. Agatha's form flickered, her
voice growing fainter. The veil between worlds grows thin. Child,
Halloween approaches, and with it a chance to right old wrongs.
You have until the stroke of midnight on all Hallow's
Eve to prove yourself worthy of your inheritance. Fail, and
this house and all the souls trapped within it will
be lost forever. With a howling gust of wind, Agatha
and the other spirits vanished. The room returned to normal,
leaving Emily alone and shaken. She sank to the floor.
The grimoire still clutched tightly in her arms. Her mind
whirled with questions, what did Agatha mean by proving herself worthy,
what souls were trapped in the house, and most importantly,
how was she supposed to deal with any of this?
As the grandfather clock in the hallway began to chime midnight,
Emily realized with a start that she had exactly one
month until Halloween. One month to unravel the mysteries of
her family's past, to learn the secrets of the Grimoire,
and to save not only herself but the trapped souls
of the house. Suddenly, an ear splitting crack echoed through
the room. Emily whirled around to see a jagged line
appearing in the air, like reality itself was being torn apart.
Through the widening rift, she caught glimpses of a swirling
vortex of colors and shapes that hurt her eyes to
look at directly. What's happening, she cried out, backing away
from the strange phenomenon. Aunt Agatha's voice whispered from the shadows.
The veil grows thin. Child, their coming through? Who's coming through?
Emily demanded, but the ghost had already faded away as if.
In answer, A long, grotesque arm reached through the rift,
its fingers ending in sharp talons that grasped at the air.
Emily screamed, stumbling backwards and nearly dropping the grimoire. In
her panic, she tripped over a loose floorboard, sending her
crashing to the ground. The book flew from her hands,
landing open on the floor. As Emily scrambled to retrieve it,
her eyes fell on a page that seemed to glow
with an other worldly light. Strange symbols danced across the paper,
rearranging themselves into words she could somehow understand. To seal
the rift, speak these words, Emily's heart raced. Could she
trust this book? Did she have any choice? The arm
was now joined by another, both clawing their way further
into our world. Taking a deep breath, Emily began to
recite the incantation, her voice shed ay, but growing stronger
with each unfamiliar word. The air crackled with energy, and
the rift began to pulse and shrink. But just as
it seemed the portal would close, a face appeared in
the gap, a face so terrifying, an alien, that Emily's
voice caught in her throat. The creature's eyes locked onto hers,
filled with malevolence and hunger. We will return, it growled
its voice, like grinding stones. At the stroke of midnight
on sam Hen, when the veil is thinnest, we will
claim what is ours. With a final bone chilling shriek,
the creature was sucked back through the closing rift. The
tear in reality sealed itself with a thunderous boom, leaving
Emily alone in the suddenly silent room. She sat there, shaking,
the grimoire clutched tightly to her chest. What had she
just seen? What were those creatures? And what did they want?
And how was she a normal girl who knew nothing
of magic just hours ago supposed to stop them. As
the adrenaline began to fade, exhaustion washed over Emily, but
she knew sleep would not come easy tonight, not with
the creature's threat echoing in her mind. One month until Halloween,
one month to learn magic, to uncover her family's secrets,
and to prepare for a battle she never asked for
but couldn't ignore. Emily looked down at the Grimoire, its
pages now innocently blank. Well, she muttered to herself, a
hint of grim determination in her voice. I guess it's
time to start studying. Little did she know the true
horrors of her Halloween Inheritance were only just beginning.
Speaker 1: Ghost is a Calorogus 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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