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.
Speaker 2: To handle what others can.
Speaker 1: Parental consent is recommended now for tonights micro terror.
Speaker 2: Bump in the Night too. Carver's Revenge by Scott Donnelly.
I sat there on the couch, watching TV and eating
a snack. The storm outside had put to rest my
plans of playing outside with my friends, so this was
the next best thing, eating chips and watching Jurassic Park.
A blast of thunder from outside ripped my attention away
from the TV and I sat up on the couch.
Storms didn't really bother me much. Being from the Midwest,
I was used to them, but ever since we moved
to California for my dad's job, the storms seemed different.
My mom said it was just because I was homesick,
but I wasn't so sure about that. My dad said
it was due to the ocean being so close that
the storms could gather more energy. I wasn't a weather
buff so I couldn't confirm nor deny my dad's theory either.
All I knew was that for me, California storms were
far scarier than the ones in the heart of the country.
My dad crossed the living room in a hurry, tossing
on his raincoat and putting the hood over his head.
I saw he had his car keys in his hands.
Where are you going? I asked him, confused as to
what would possess him to leave in the middle of
the storm on his only day off this week. He
turned Tommy work. He said, they're having an issue that
they need me for. I'll seriously only be about ten
minutes there, then I'll be home. I didn't know what
my dad did for work. I'd asked a couple of times,
but for some reason, my parents kept the nature of
his job a secret. I had been curious, though. All
I did know was that it had to do with
mechanics or something. Can I come, I asked, thinking maybe
it would distract me from the storm. He removed his hood.
They don't really allow kids inside the building, he said
to me. I stood up, still hopeful. I can stay
in the car, I said to him, I just don't
want to. Another loud boom of thunder shook the house,
making me junk. My dad faced the TV, where a
fictional storm was crashing down on the dinosaurs in the movie.
He looked at me and smirked. Fine, he said, get
your rain coat. I'll go tell your mother. I did
as he said, excited to finally see where my dad worked, well,
the outside of the building, at least. Within the next
few minutes. We were in his car driving through Los
Angeles County across the city. My dad pulled into a
large gated parking lot where a long brick warehouse was situated.
Through the falling rain, I scoured the outside of the building,
the fences and a small guard shack at the entrance
where we'd come in, but I couldn't find the company's name.
You're a mechanic, I asked him. I looked over at
my dad behind the wheel and saw him again, sort of,
he said. He turned to me. I fixed things once again.
He decided to keep his profession very vague. I started
to wonder if my dad was a hitman and fixed
things by well eliminating the problem. We parked close to
the brick building, right outside a door that read Area five.
My dad made sure the parking break was on and
then looked at me, stay here, okay, pal, I'll be
back in about ten minutes and then we'll head home.
I nodded sure. With that, my dad left the car
and hurried through the rain, opening the door and disappearing
inside the building. I took a deep breath and looked
around the lot. There weren't many cars in a lot
to begin with, so I wondered if this was most
people's day off from the job. I turned on the
radio and scanned the stations, trying to find a good song,
but the storm was interfering with the reception. Everything was
coming in as static. I turned the radio off and
looked back out the window toward the door my dad
had gone in. My heart sank. The door was open
and someone stood within the doorframe. They looked tall and
were wearing a long, flowing black robe, with their face
obscured by shadows within the hood. In their hand, I
noticed a long, grim, reaper style scyphe whoever it was,
was staring right at me, and then out of nowhere,
two red eyes lit up in the darkness of his face.
I swallowed hard, watching the grim reaper just gawk at me. Then,
without warning, he removed his foot from the bottom of
the door and let it shut on him, sealing him
in the building where my dad had just went. I
grew nervous, and my heart began to beat faster. That's
when my brain made the connection, and I recognized the
shadowy creeper Carver. Christopher Carver, to be exact. He had
been punished by his classmates and hung out up in
a corn maze where he disappeared overnight, only to return
for revenge ten years later. But what was he doing
here and why? It didn't make any logical sense to me,
Actually it was impossible. Thoughts of my dad meeting the
business end of that scythe began to race through my head,
and I knew I had to do something about it.
I had to help my dad, warn him, or get
him out of there before Carver made his move. I
turned the car off and took the keys with me.
As I dashed through the pouring rain and crashing thunder,
I flung open the area five door and let it
shut behind me. I was staring down a long empty hallway.
Silence surrounded me. Even the rain outside was muffled by
the heavy door and thick brick walls. I took a
few steps forward, my shoes squeaking on the floor. I
wanted to call out for my dad, but I had
no idea where he was. Suddenly, Carver crossed the hall
up ahead of me and disappeared into another room. Gasped
and ducked into the closest room. I closed the door
quietly and flipped on the light switch. The room lit up.
I turned around and couldn't believe my eyes. There were
skeletons everywhere, laying on the floor, hanging from the rafters,
secured to the wall. I stumbled into Carver's lair, a
dumping ground for his victims. I screamed as loud as
I could and flung the door back open. I ran
into the hall, still screaming. I looked down the long
corridor and watched as a man poked his head out
from one of the rooms. When he saw me, he
stepped out into the hallway, and I noticed it was
a police officer. Are you okay? How'd you get in here?
The officer asked, there are dead bodies in that room,
I shouted at him, while frantically pointing to Carver's lair.
Oh what, the officer questioned with a laugh. Oh look,
I don't thank you. But before he could finish his sentence,
Carver appeared behind him in the hallway. My eyes widened.
Look out behind you. The officer turned around and was
face to face with Carver, his red eyes glowing menacingly
beneath his hood. Suddenly, Carver lifted his scythe into the air.
But I didn't wait around to see the messy aftermath.
I bolted into the next room and slammed the door shut.
That's when I heard the officer scream out in the hallway.
This can't be happening, I tried to convince myself. I
ran through a cluttered room of boxes and crates and
exploded through another door and into a dark room with
red lights hanging above me. This place was like a
nightmare come to life. Another door opened and Carver stepped
into the room, his scythe blade glinting under the red lights. No,
I screamed at him, and then kept running. I found
another door labeled exit and pushed my way through. I
ended up in another large dark room that was leaking
from above. The rain from outside must have been too
much for the old roof. I stepped through the room,
feeling soft dirt and mud beneath my feet. What was this?
I tripped and fell into a large flat stone sticking
out of the mud. I braced myself on it and
pushed myself away just enough to see it was a gravestone.
My eyes widened and my stomach felt sick. A flash
of light from above briefly lit up the room, which
was a full blown graveyard with rolling hills, rows of headstones,
and Carver. Another flash of lightning outlined Carver's appearance again.
He stood on one of the rolling hills between two
gravestones and held his scythe in the air. I screamed
as loud as I could. Then a man's voice shouted
cut With this one demanding word, the rain stopped falling
and the lights in the room all turned on, blinding
me at first. But when my eyes adjusted, I looked
around at the confusing sight. There were people all over
the place, strategically hidden around the graveyard. Carver, standing in
the center of the space, lowered his scythe and then
hood I saw the innocent face of a twenty something
year old man. How do you get on my set?
A man's voice said. It was the same voice that
demanded cut moments earlier. I turned and saw a middle
aged man with a beard and mustache jogging over to me.
When I saw him, I immediately recognized him from the
horror magazines I secretly read behind my parents back. It
was Wes Hitchcock, the horror movie director who had made
Bump in the Night. Wait, I said, looking around the
graveyard Carver the red eyes I was on a movie set. Wait,
is this Bump in the Night too?
Speaker 1: I asked.
Speaker 2: Wes Hitchcock came up to me and placed his hands
on his hips. Yes, he said, kind of annoyed. Carver's
revenge and you are that's Johnny Boy, another voice said.
I turned around and saw a second carver hurrying up
to me, removing his hood and glowing red eye glasses.
Behind him was the police officer I thought he had eliminated. Now,
in the large scope of knowing where I was, I
recognized the officer as Billy Nelson, an actor who I'd
seen in about five different movies. The second Carver came
up to me and turned to Hitchcock. Johnny came in
to fix the mechanical hand and said his son was
out in the car. I looked outside to make sure
he was okay out there by himself. When I noticed
him slip into the building, I decided to just play
a little harmless prank on him, he said, alluding to
when he had raised the scythe on Officer Billy Nelson.
This is why I don't like kids on the set.
It's not a child friendly environment, Hitchcock said. This is
an R rated feature film, people. I shyly muttered, don't
tell my dad, but I've seen Bump in the Night
about a dozen times. Hitchcock let his frustrations dissipate, and
then he smirked, I bet you have. You're not the
first kid to sneak and watch a scary movie behind
their parents back, and you definitely won't be the last.
I then heard the unmistakable sound of my dad clearing
his throat behind me. I slowly turned around, knowing he
had just heard what I had told. Mister Hitchcock. He
stood there with a mechanical prop hand in his grip,
his fingers squirming robotically and squirting fake blood from exposed
wires at its open wrist. You've watched Bump in the night,
he questioned me, vibes of shock and surprise in his voice.
I gulped nervously and could do nothing but nod, and
you liked it. I shyly nodded again. Then my dad smirked.
Then you're gonna love Art two. Thank you for listening
to Mike row Errors. Join us each Saturday for another
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