Speaker 1: Welcome to micro Terrors, scary stories for kids where it's
always the spooky season, full of chills, thrills, and spine
tingling spooks. Micro Terrors are family friendly frights for those
ages eight and up, and while our stories are for
younger years, we are still talking about things that go
bump in the night, and some children may not be
able to handle what others can. Parental consent is recommended
now for tonights micro terror.
Speaker 2: Mister Rubberhead an original micro terror written by AJ Spencer,
narrated by Darren Marler. Hey, Dobby, watch out with the
loose boards above your head. Dobby, Well, he was my
best friend, but I hated when he called me a
dummy or idiot. I guess it was fair this time
I lost the coin toss and had to be the
one stupid enough to enter a partially collapsed house, all
to prove one thing that it's haunted if the rumors
were true. This was the house of a piano player
named mister Apricot. He used to perform for people back
in what my parents called the old days. One of
his most famous acts was with a marionette he called
mister Rubberhead. He would play a song with one hand
and make the puppet dance with the other. I've seen
pictures of the couple black and wife. Photos of mister
Rubberhead made him look more creepy than entertaining. It wore
a little striped suit over its wooden body that led
up to a round rubber ball head that was painted
to feature two large eyes and a wide smile. Hurry
somebody by gub chases out of here, then we won't
have proof and become legends, Tommy called. His voice seemed
so distant now I was already where the living room
might have been at one point. Now, with the part
of the wall and roof collapsed, it was a triangular tunnel.
If the rumors were true about mister Apricot's last days
in this house, it surprised me that any of the
structure was still standing. The story was always different depending
on who you asked, but one detail stayed the same.
The rescue team responded to a call from a panicked
mister Apricot, something about the ground opening up beneath him.
They showed up and there was no sign of mister Apricot.
Both he and his prized puppet were missing. The authorities
assumed he was dead. Only people who went by the
house claimed they saw someone looking back at them through
the frosted windows. Now I was looking directly into the
bottomless pit. Sinkholes are one of my biggest fears, and
my heart was jackhammering as I looked down into the abyss.
There was a piano stuck sideways in the wreckage. Its
keys peered out of the darkness like a smile full
of broken teeth. The lid was partially open, and for
just a second I could have sworn I saw two
wide cartoon eyes staring right at me from inside. I
jumped backward and another piece of the floor gave way,
and before I knew it, I was grasping for something,
anything to catch myself from falling through. It was time
to get the video and then run as fast as
I could to get out of here. After hitting the
record button, I panned around the room at a quick three
hundred and sixty degrees to display the damage, and back
down into the hole. As you can see, this is
the sinkhole that took mister appercut. Even the biggest skeptics
say you can still hear him. I'm wailing in agony
when it's dark and the moon is up. I'm not
sure what that means, but I think we can all
agree that this place has a very haunted energy. A
creaking sound interrupted my narration from behind me. Someone else
was in here. I spun around to find someone standing
in the tunnel i'd come through. In the frame, it
looked like a human sized marionette, standing motionless. Could this
be a ghost? My skin went cold at the thought
of actually seeing one for the first time. He didn't move,
He just stood there, blocking my only way out, letting
me film him. When all the paranormal shows I watched
never got clear footage, the kids a school were going
to freak. At the moment, I was too stunned to
think about what to do next. I needed to see
if I could get him to communicate, mister Apricot, I asked.
The specter shook his head no, then pointed at the sinkhole,
after which he raised one hand to each side of
his mouth and use his index fingers to pull his
permanent smile into a scowl. Fear locked me in place.
There was just something so unsettling about this figure streaming
to express anger that got under my skin. However, I
still couldn't leave, so I had to fake my composure.
You're mad about dying, I asked once again. Mister Rubberhead
said no, and pointed down below into the hole. The sudden,
low tone of dead notes coming from the broken piano,
which shouldn't be able to produce any sound, startled me.
Someone or something was attempting to compose music with its remains.
I could tell that it allured mister Rubberhead. He immediately
pretended to puppeteer himself, pulling on invisible strings to move
his feet. He spawned in a circle until we were
facing each other again. Then he pointed at me, then
at himself, and then at the hole again. Even in
my panicked state of mind, I knew what he was suggesting.
You want me to go down there with you, because
that's where you're stuck. He reshaped his scowl back into
a stretched out smile to confirm I was right. The
piano must have tethered him. He was now trapped in
the darkness and wanted me to stay with him, to
keep him company forever. I'm sorry, I said, my voice
trembling with every word. I can't stay here. I have
people waiting for me.
Speaker 1: At home.
Speaker 2: This was apparently the wrong answer. His face reshaped itself
on its own. This time, his wide eyes shrank down
to slits, and the scowl was back. The sight would
have the toughest person alive shaking. Don't be angry, I'm
making a video. I'll show it to the world and
make sure you're not forgotten, I cried, holding my phone up.
He stopped towards me. His giant, heavy shoes knocked some
more floorboards loose. The piano music got louder. This was
the end for me, and I knew it. I would
disappear forever down below, but at least my best friend
had a story to tell. I closed my eyes before
there was an extremely bright flash. I prepared my mind
to see memories of my short life flashed before me.
Then nothing happened. I looked to see that mister Rubberhead
had stopped moving, his rag doll clothing collapsed in a
heap until his head bounced off the ground and into
the sinkhole. Somehow I survived. I looked down at my
phone's screen to see if it was still recording. The
screen had changed to taking pictures. That was where the
flash had come from, not some form of divine intervention,
just a fortunate accident, one that deflected the ghost of
the old puppet. Too bad. Nothing was in focus, so
it was all useless, just a bunch of blurry emotion.
No one would believe I had seen anything but a
few interior shots of this dilapidated old shotgun house. My
side defeated, trying to be happy that I was at
least getting out of here alive. There was one video
at the end, one of the broken piano. Mister Rubberhead
peered out of the lid, raising it up like a coffin.
As the sinister smile spread across his face. A horrifying
realization came over me. I didn't take just his picture.
I transferred his soul. And now he didn't need me
to come with him, because he was coming with me.
Coming up next week on micro Terror's Scary Stories for Kids,
an overjoyed podcaster reads a story to his listener, said
He'll never forget, And later this month we'll explore dark
and maze like sewers in Encounter with a Snake Not
from this World, as well as a brand new listener
Terror's episode. In the meantime, be sure to head on
over to my micro terrors dot com for all the
latest updates. To check out our e merch store, sign
up for our monthly newsletter, and become one of the
Terrified by joining the fan club fanclub perksing budd to
welcome pack in the mail, access to commercial, free episodes,
and exclusive updates and offers. You can also read news
stories a week early, participate in polls, and communicate directly
with micro Terror's creator, Scott Donnelly. I'm Darren Marler, your narrator.
Thank you all for being such dedicated micro Terrors listeners.
Speaker 1: Thank you for listening to micro Terrors. Join us each
Saturday for another scary story. For more fun, visit our
website at microterrors dot com, where you can get the
latest micro Terrors news, read fun facts about each story,
sign up for our monthly newsletter, and even send in
your own scary story for us to tell. Plus, you
can become one of the Terrify by joining a fan
club at microterrors dot com who enjoy exclusive perks like
reading stories a week early, receiving complimentary books, and communicating
directly with micro Terrors writer and creator Scott Donnelly. You
can also Follow us on Facebook and Instagram using the
handle at microterrors. I hope you'll join us again soon
for Microterrors scary stories for kids.