Speaker 1: Welcome listeners to fast Food Horror and this final installment
of the Tale of the House on Morrow Hill, Decisions
to be Made, written by E. J.
Speaker 2: Miller and narrated by E. J.
Speaker 1: Miller and Stephanie Miller.
Speaker 2: I woke to the sound of the front door closing,
which was an odd sound to wake to if I
were in the master bedroom way at the rear of
the house. But I was not in the master bedroom.
I was on the living room couch with a comforter
tucked all around me, sun streaming through the curtains, the
rays of light shining through the open drapes, specks of
dust playfully dancing in the air, with a nagging question
peer wetting in my head, how did I get here?
I remember driving home with stuff from the city, fretting
over the video uncovered by the various surveillance cameras, trying
to figure out how to broach the subject of the
cameras and their contents, and me not wanting to be
here anymore, not living with the shadows. I heard the
crush of gravel outside the windows, signifying someone either pulling
up to the house or driving away. A glance out
the window found it was steph. Driving away from the house,
I fouled the smell of coffee to the kitchen, looking
for caffeine and answers. I found both, one in the
form of some freshly brood Sasquatch Coffee Company coffee, and
the second being a small note from my bride at
my spot at the breakfast nook. It read good morning.
You were dead asleep on our way home, and you snored.
I was able to guide you out of the car
and into the house. You seemed pretty adamant about sleeping
on the couch. Hope you slept. Okay, I'm going to
town to pick up some supplies and some groceries. Remember,
the furnace guy is coming to day. Make sure you
let him in. I'll be home shortly, love me. I
took a long gulp of coffee and was about to
go back to my cell phone and look at the
video again when I heard a knock at the door.
It was the furnace guy. He introduced himself as Cedric Young,
a third generation furnace guy, having taken over the business
from his father. He assured me he had seen everything
and there wasn't a furnace he couldn't fix. I led
him to the basement door, and he barreled on ahead,
leaving me at the top of the staircase in his dust.
I admired his ambition and his energy. I grabbed my coffee,
forgot about the cell phone, and went on to take
a shower. A few minutes later, I emerged, clean and awake,
glided back into the kitchen to freshen up my coffee.
At the exact same time, Cedric the furnace air came
up from the basement and announced he had now seen everything.
He said he had never seen a furnace like that,
but he assured me after tinkering with it, it was
in fine working order now. He told me he would
bill me later as he made his way to the
front door, and then turned on a dime at the
door and asked the most curious question, what did the
trap door behind the furnace lead to? I told him
we had just moved in and I had not even
explored the basement yet. He explained that many homes of
this age, especially from that era, always had curious secrets
from what they used for insulation, floorboards that were removable,
where people stashed money in valuables, wall and floor safes
to forgotten rooms, but he had never found one with
a secret sub basement. He asked to let me know
after I explored it what I found, and then he
made his exit, leaving me alone in the house with
the mystery of the trap door. I did what any
rational person would do in my place. I did what
any rational person would do in my place. I found
the flashlight and made my way to the basement door
while calling Steph. Maybe she knew about it and knew
exactly what was in it. Maybe she didn't know at all,
but the curiosity was killing me and I had to
go see for myself. The call went directly to voicemail.
I left a message about the furnace being okay, and
then going right into the secret trapdoor. Cedric the furnace
air told me was behind the furnace and told her
then I was going exploring. I got to the bottom
of the basement stairs and turned on the flashlight to
cut through the darkness. The basement was bigger than I expected,
and just as dark. A few small, dirty windows here
and there gave some light. The rest was provided by
bare bulbs every few yards, enough to see what was
fifteen feet in front of you. The rest was darkness
and shadow until the next bulb or window. It seemed
to go on forever and appeared to extend far beyond
the framework of the house, Going deeper and deeper back,
I made my way past stacks of old boxes, old
fashioned trunks containing god knows what discarded furniture, shelves of
papers and books, knickknacks and memories. I finally found the
furnace at the end of the labyrinth, looking more like
a giant oven than it did a furnace, all oxidized iron,
dusty with cobwebs and thyme. I made my way behind it,
and sure enough my light caught the trap door, a
three x three foot square in the middle of the
concrete floor with an iron ring to open it by.
I lifted the iron ring latch to pull the trap
door up as my cell phone started to buzz. It
was steph but as soon as I picked up the call,
the signal dropped. I found a wooden ladder leading to
the floor below, and carefully made my way lower and
lower as my phone continued to buzz, before stopping as
suddenly as it started. My feet found the concrete floor.
I found a pole chain for a light directly in
front of me and pulled it. I immediately regretted it.
The one light bulb seemed to light up a majority
of the room. On the one wall were two sets
of chains and shackles affixed to the concrete wall. There
was what appeared to be an operating table to my
right with sets of tools behind it rusted with age
or stained saws, knives, scalpels, and pliers. To my left
was what I can only describe as being a large
set of small drawers four hundred or so, much like
an old style library card catalog. And behind me, as
I turned around and played my flashlight through the cavernous room,
three sets of cells, and in the cell to the
right bones clumped in the corner, complete with a skull,
a human skull. I made my way over to the
drawers and found them marked in handwritten script with names
and dates. I opened up one at random. Inside I
found a watch, a wedding ring, and two sets of molars.
Inside the next, I found a pocket watch, a few teeth,
and a bracelet. Inside the next a small wooden carved animal,
a bear, a child's toy. I'm sure, two smaller teeth,
and a ribbon faded red again and again I opened
drawers and found more of the same in each. The handwriting,
though changed as I proceeded down the line, and then
towards the far right of the drawers, empty empty drawers,
not yet filled with no names or dates.
Speaker 1: And then.
Speaker 3: I wish you would answer your phone.
Speaker 2: Oh my head. Did I hit my head on a
rafter or fall?
Speaker 3: Oh no, honey, sorry about your head. I only meant
to give you a love tap. I wanted us to
come down here together so I could so I could
show you, so I could tell you tell me. I
spent a lot of summers here when I was a girl,
spent time with Granddad in the orchard, pottering around the
property doing chores, and he used to take me down
here to my great great grandfather's private laboratory to help
him continue his work. He said he saw the same
spark in me that his father had in him, the joy.
We had such good times down here playing continuing the work.
After seeing my joy for it, he told me that
this would all be mine one day, to continue the legacy,
to continue the work my great grandfather started all those
years ago. This is my inheritance. This is my birthright
and my responsibility to all of them.
Speaker 2: And now what you're gonna leave me in the cell?
Speaker 3: No, you choose, choose, don't be naive.
Speaker 2: Choose to help you murder, butcher end stuff. The shadows.
Was I going crazy?
Speaker 1: Or them?
Speaker 3: You get used to them. They can't hurt us. They're ghosts,
their souls trapped here, trapped in these walls. They feed
the house. They give the house power and give the
owners power, and the house must be fed. Now you
must choose join me or join the shadows. I'll just
let you stay down here and think about it, just
bang on the bars when you've come to the right decision.
Speaker 2: Seven nights. I don't think there will be an eighth.
Not for us
Speaker 1: Yet