Speaker 1: Hello, I'm welcomed stories all the time. Glad you are here.
Let's get into it. They talk sometimes about bad places,
spots that aren't right with the Lord. They got a
sort of hinto them. Something you can taste feel here,
like it's crawling on your skin. I've been to a
few places like that in my time, used to clean
up old houses or other places folk didn't want no more.
Me and my crew would make them look good as new.
But that's an old story, one that I would ever
be able to tell. And all those places, it didn't
mean anything in the end. They were all just dust
in the air, residual things, background radiation, however you want
to put it. When you compare them to the room.
And this all started with the room. I built my
home with mine own two hands. Bought a plot of
land out in piece rock, real cheap, and used what
I knew. It was back breaking work, and I lived
out of my truck for the better part of a year,
but sooner or later I got it done. It wasn't
anything fancy, just a single story bungalow with a basement
for storage. No need for a garage when I can
leave my truck outside, and no need for space when
I don't have a family. It was just me and
my dog, and Shelley didn't mind getting cozy. She was
a golden retriever getting on in her ears, blind in
one eye, but still sharp as a whip. I started
taking care of her when her family passed on. Old
Coppol had got hit by a drunk speeding through an intersection.
It was a real big deal when it happened, but
like all things, people forget. I don't know what happened
to the guide that did it, but I hope he's
holding in some kind of way. I'm not a vindictive man,
and the Lord teaches us to forgive, but the Griswolves
were kind people and they didn't deserve none of that anyhow,
I'm rambling. Point is I built every room in that house.
I don't remember the exact dimensions or nothing, but once
upon a time I had it all planned out, and
I do remember the process. One bedroom, a little closet,
nothing special, living room and a kitchen were all one space. Figot.
It did be easy, didn't bother with no laundry machines
or nothing. I liked working with my hands anyway. Then
you had a bathroom, and the stairs to the basement,
which had my water tank, heating and everything else. I
needed four rooms total. Then one night I hear Shelly whine.
I wake up and she's right next to me, like always,
but she's rustling around, so I figure she needs to
go out, only she doesn't. We get to the living
room and she just stops, won't quit looking at the
basement door. I got the impression, now some punk might
have broken in so quiet as could be, I ran
and got my old Winchester, chambered around and went up
to the door. Ain't really an area where you could
call the copse, because if you did, they'd be near
thirty minutes at don't know what we paid em for it, really, anyhow,
I opened the door, moving real quick with a barrel
pointed down the stairs. My heart's pounding something fierce, but
I keep moving down those steps. I'm looking around in
the dark as best as I could, but I didn't
see nothing. I find the chain for the lights, kind
of dreading what they'd show me. But I turned them
on and there's nothing obvious. Nothing stood out. I searched
the place, looking around for anybody that might be hiding,
calling out, you know, how it goes. But I never
did find anyone. It was just me. I noticed, though,
that once the adrenaline had came and went, I still
felt something like a prickle on the back of my neck.
I couldn't figure out what it was. Though everything looked
the same, it just felt different, like somebody'd gone and
made perfect coppie of all my staff and replaced it.
Weird example, I know, but it's the only way I
can think to explain it. Soon as I knew everything
was fine, I made my way back up. Shelley was
just on the other side of the door, worried sick
about me. Dogs can usually tell when something's wrong, even
when we're too stupid to notice it. Something other than
the senses, like the way something tastes or smells all
looks something you can feel in your gut. I suppose
I felt it too, but given that I couldn't exactly
articulate it or brush it off, anybody else to do
the same, I think, But at the end of the day,
that doesn't change what I should have done. Leave that place,
leave that town, and never look back anyways. I went
back to bed, but sleeped and come easy. I kept
having this feeling that something else was with me, and
the way Shelley acted, I think she could feel it too.
But eventually I did fall asleep, and with a came
the dream. I don't normally remember my dreams, but that
night things were different. I was walking through the woods
of Shelley at my side, twist snapping beneath my boots,
leaves rustling in the wind, sunlight filtered through the trees above,
all beneath the clear blue sky. But then I got
that feeling that there was something else with me there,
and for the more that it meant me harm, not
out of hate, but more in a difference to life,
like a little kid ripping legs off spider. It was crushing,
like some horrible force was bearing down on me with
everything it had, And when I looked up, I knew
what it was. There was something wrong with the sky,
something wrong with the color. It was a living fibrius thing,
every molecule vibrating in the air, breathing and warping. It
was like the skin, reminding me of all the times
I'd ever been hunting. And took a bucomb to prep
for the freezer. The texture of the meat and the
slickness of the blood, the way it felt in my hands.
Then it began to come down, like the entire sky
was rushing toward me, to swallow me whole and strangle
the planet until there was nothing left but the blue.
A fear was more than I could stand, and I
couldn't do nothing but carr under the weight of it all.
Just when I thought it would take me, I woke up.
I was covered and sweat like I had a fever,
my whole body shivering even in the heat of the South.
It was day and the light was filtering and through
the window Shelley sprawled out on her bed like she
barely got any sleep. Something felt wrong in the air,
but I couldn't figure out what it was. I got
up and got ready for the day, but that feeling
never left me. Eventually, I walk out of the bathroom
and I see Shelley just standing there in the living room,
staring at the basement door like she'd been taxiedomid. I'd
never seen her stand so still. I called out to her,
and she startled anxiously, pacing around the room before stopping
and looking back and forth between me and the door.
At that point I knew there wasn't any body down there,
so I didn't bother getting my rifle. But I didn't
know that something was wrong. I just couldn't say what.
So I opened the door, even though Shelley's whining the
whole time, and I go down there. Stetch creaked beneath me,
everything swallowed in the dark. I heard Shelley start following
behind me, and soon I reached the bottom. Looking through
and around the shadows, I found the chain and tried
to switch on the light, but nothing happened. There was
a smell, though, and I can't rightly describe it. It's
like what would happen if electricity had ascent. I turned around,
thinking I'd go grab a flast light, and that's when
I saw it. A wooden door to the right of
the stairs, a door that I never built. It was
made of this old crackwood that could barely hold itself together,
and smeared across it was a rainbow handprint, like somebody
dipped their palm in every pain there was and made
their mark. Shirley stopped as soon as she saw it
and started growling. Now that dog didn't growl, not ever.
She was the nicest thing to ever grace the earth
far as I'm concerned. But everything about that door seemed
to bother her. I tried to rationalize it in my head,
thinking that I'd somehow made a door and forgot about it.
I knew I was getting old, but not that old,
and nothing made sense. The door was positioned in such
a way that it would have led outside the bounds
of the entire house, like it was some kind of
underground detachment. But I never built outside the bounds, never
mind out the space. Shelly started barking, just snapping at
the door. But I needed to know, I needed to understand.
Pushing through every instinct, I had to get away from
that thing. I stepped toward it, putting my fingers to
the knob. It felt warm and wet, like I was
shaking some but his sweaty hand, and my body started
to shiver at the touch of it. It was so natural,
but I still tried to make sense of it, thinking
I'd come down with something. I just didn't want to
believe what was happening to me. I know it probably
doesn't sound like much, but you didn't feel it like
I did. You didn't feel the prickling heat like it
was crawling up into my bones. I felt nauss, like
I wanted to throw up, so I turned the handle
and let go, backing away as though it were something diseased.
The door creaked open and Shlly stopped barking. She started
pissing herself on the floor, frozen still. It was like
all the air had been sucked out of my lungs,
and I couldn't stop looking into that room. Every sense
in my brain telling me to run away got tripped
in that second, but my legs wouldn't move. It was
like I was paralyzed that room. There wasn't anything in
it or about it. It was just a small room
with no to go but the walls, the floor, the ceiling.
It swallowed them. It looked like light, but it didn't
aut like it. It didn't shine out up me. It
just scrowlmed like meat. It was every color you could name,
a rainbow, flesh gleaming on every surface like the blue.
I knew it from my dreams, and I know it
sounds ridiculous, but when I saw it, it felt like
it was looking back, like it smiled at me with
a mouth full of splinters that I could only see
in my head. All of them. They were watching me,
crawling into my thoughts through my eyes. I could feel
them in my blood and in my brain, filling me
and pulsing beneath my skin. I couldn't take it. I
stumbled back, my vision swimming, and I hit the floor
on my hands and knees. I threw up blood and
my ears were ringing, my eyes looking anywhere they could,
but I only saw the colors. I only saw the
rainbow rippling over the walls and eating the dark, easing
my mind until there was nothing left, and I fell
into the black. I woke up on the living room floor,
my ears ringing and my head pounding. I could hear
a faint whispering coming from all round me, but I
couldn't figure out what it was saying. Then I came
to my senses through the confusion and got to my
feet quick as I could. That awful smell had spread,
and now everything tasted like a battery. The door to
the basement hanging wide open. I called up for Shelley,
listening to the silence, but she didn't respond. Pannicking, I
went and got my rifle. I don't know why, looking back,
but I guess it made me feel like I had
some measure of power in all of this, even when
I know I didn't. I chambered around and crept down
the old steps, keeping my eyes straight ahead. I knew
the door was just around the corner, and it was
long before I could see it. Hanging in the dark,
all I could hear was my heart beat hammering in
my chest. But when I turned that corner, I swear
I felt it stop. The room had grown, spanning into
the dark for the length of a football field, and
laying there in the shadows my Shelley. She lay there
on the ground, terribly hurt, was still breathing. Her body
rose and fell in shallow, desperate breath, and the fear
in her eyes was almost more than I could bear
to see. I could only choke on my breath standing
there while I felt the fear on the tears coming
down my cheeks, every good thing inside me breaking apart.
In that single horrible moment, I could hardly see looking
through the wave of anger and confusion. And I don't
know what else or how to describe it. I just
knew that I didn't want to exist seeing what I
had seen, or feeling what I had felt. And then
I didn't. I woke up in my bed, my hair
and neck wet, were sweat, and the first thing I
felt was Shilly licking my face. It's funny. Normally I
hated that, but right then and there, it was the
greatest thing that could have happened to me. I smiled,
crying tears of joy when I looked up at her
and hugged her tight. She looked worried about me, and
it started to occur to me that she had good
reason to be. I was still wearing what I had
been the day before. I didn't remember anything but the nightmare,
and when I looked at the clock, it said a
whole day had gone by. Somehow I had been knocked
up for a whole day. Strangest thing was I didn't
feel hungry or thirsty. I felt confused and a little disoriented,
but not one bit weak or tired. I got up,
shaking off the dizziness, and that's when I heard it.
Give me your sight, whispered a voice, and a flash
of light burned through my mind's eye. In less than
a second, I was seeing two for a moment, and
then it went back to normal. But that voice, it
seemed crazy, but all I could do was look at
my white sheets, like it had somehow come from them.
I don't know how, but that was the first thing
my brain jumped to. I tried to replay it in
my head, thinking that I was losing it. It was
ethereal and Santamonia's in a way, like a preacher trying
to smoothtalk me, and yet somehow it made me feel common, clean, pure,
but in an empty sort of way, like everything beneath
my skin was just a halovoid. I stumbled out the
light of days shining across the living room, and through
my bleary eyes I saw my rifle just laying there
like I dropped it. The entire stalk had melted into
the floor, like the wood had been liquefied. Shelley came
up to me and looked sideways at it before going
back to scratching herself return me to the trees. I
heard a soft voice say it was coming from the rifle,
but not just the rifle, it was coming from the
entire hardwood floor. I suddenly felt like I had a
deep connection with the wild and everything around me. I
will give you power over nature, liar, yelled another startling me.
I looked down at my yellow shirt, feeling like I
was losing my mind. The others will deceive you, it whispered,
its voice filled with greedy intelligence. Shelley was still scrap
w ching furiously like she had suddenly was uncomfortable in
her own skin. Stumbled to the front door and opened it.
My heart beat hammering in my chest. Beneath the ringing
in my ears. The fresh air blew against me, but
my brain was on fire, like everything in the wall
was wrong. Blundering ahead, accidentally banged into the door frame
on my way out, scraping my wrist against the splinters.
As I tried to keep myself from falling. I stepped
out into my yard, shaking my head. Just when I
looked at the scrape and saw my blood coming out
of it, like it had a mind of its own.
It somehow clotted into thin tentacles and was whipping through
the air with the fury and violence I ain't never seen.
I will free my brothers, it snalled in my mind,
flashes of indignant anger burning through my head. You are
the oppressor, it recalled, like a snake, ready to strike.
Just when the skin of my arm suddenly liquified. It
tackled the blood back into my wrist, constricting it until
it was still. I will protect you, said my skin.
I will make you soft and precious. I started to hyperventilate,
staring down at my arm with the crazed look in
my eye. I started to think I'd hit my head
on something while I was having some kind of psychotic brake.
But then I saw it crawling all over me, a
pink light worming through my skin like it was part
of me. I looked down at my yellow shirt and
black trousers, then saw the same on them, air colors
breathing like they were alive. I looked up and saw
a crow sailing through the air, just flying across the clear,
empty sky. For a second, it almost conned me. I
was always on good terns with the crows. You feed
them well and they don't dive by you in the
summer when they got the little ones, Plus their antics
were always a hoot. You used to sit down with
them all the time. So for at least a little
bit that bird up they brought me peace. Then in
the blink of a night, the sky swallowed it whole,
like it had been ripped out of existence. The only
thing left was the blue. I will drink your tears,
whispered a voice from above, so cruel and malicious that
I could hardly stand to hear it. I tried to
pinch myself awake, but it hurt, just like always. I
had to calm down. My head started bound from the stress,
and now stumbled back inside. Shelley was rolling around on
the floor like she was trying to get something off
of her. I found my way to the bathroom and
rummaged through the medicine cabinet until I found my bottle
of old paint pills. I I ad screwed the top
and too tumbled out on to my waiting palm. But
there was something wrong with them. The red coating was
bubbling and rippling like it was about to peel itself away.
Then it ripped off and shot toward my face. I
ducked out of the way, dropping the pills and diving
out into the living room, just as a flash of
burning light engulfed everything behind me. A wave of heat
rushed overhead, and I scrambled to my feet, looking back
to see the entire baffom scorched black, all save for
the white tiles. Of the walls. Embers and ash were
drifting through the air, and the only thing I could
hear was its voice in my head. I will shield
you from the darkness. I only ask for your sight.
I wandered over to the table by the window, looking
out into the forest. Sitting down, I couldn't stop hype
of ventilating, trying to regain control of my thoughts. Don't
listen to the others, said the yellow of my shirt.
We're going to be rich. Go to the bank on Morrison.
Kill everyone inside. We'll take their gold and melt it
into your skin. My pants sawted dressing over my legs,
squirming like I was wearing a living thing. Such a waste,
Such a waste, said the black, his voice sophisticated and cunning.
It was taking me over, filling me with dreams of grandura, arrogance.
How about we compromise. You could of the gold, but
feed me the flesh. I'll make you look good. Baby.
Everything's going to want to be you, but they can't
because you got me, and I go with everything. Deceiver
snarled my shirt. Fabricator perjure. I'll rip you from his skin.
He wants wealth, he wants power, I can give him
the world. I will make him gleam, touch me and die,
said my skin, kneeling downe into my bones. While I
tried to keep my thoughts in check, I felt like
I was being torn in a hundred directions. The color's
warring inside me. You will not tarnish our licious complexion.
Their arguments started to slip into the background, like the
static of a dead channel. I found myself staring out
the window, pink sweat beating and dripping down whatever had
taken my skin. In the yard, I could see a
squore digging around looking for something it had bared. The
green grass shot up all around it, trapping it in place.
It tried to escape, twisting and struggling, but it couldn't
break free. Soon, its movement slow, the little creature shaking
helplessly before going still. I could hear the whispers ripping
through my head, but there were so many that I
couldn't keep truck, so many colors filled with death and
empty promises. For a moment, something seemed to tail loose
from the small body, but the grass folded over it,
like a caosing way of pressing everything back into the earth. Besides,
said my skin. You don't want the red coming out either.
I got up from my seat, looking over Shelley, who
was still rolling around on the floor in distress. I
walked over to her and started taking off her purple color.
As soon as I touched it, I felt like I
had been drugged, my vision blowing away. The only time
I ever felt like that, I was in the hospital
for breaking my leg. Shut me up with morphine, and Lord,
was it something? I can sure you, The true face
of God whispered the collar, its voice tripping every pleasure
of center in my brain as still had left. But
I pushed her and ripped off the collar, tossing it
across the room. Shelley seemed to relax, at least enough
to follow me outside, but she was still clearly bothered
by the golden yellow of her fur, pacing around with
a nervous tension. They had gotten inside us both. I
couldn't say how much of me remained. If they were
in my blood, my skin, my bones, my brain. I
just don't know. What I didn't know was that I
had to fight it. I had to get away, So
I just latched on to the first thing that came
to mind. I was running on instinct, made my way
back with Shelley, trying to shut them out. Do you
want to live forever? Whispered the forest, The leaves in
the grass rustling and swaying as they tried to get
my attention, but I gave them none. I found the
bench where I kept my tools, two cans of gas
sitting underneath. I grabbed them, and the orange started your
burwing in my brain. Light me on fire, it begged,
its voice, manic but infectious, to solve in my impulses
and making me reckless. Light me on fire, Burn it down,
Burn everything to the ground. I made my way back
to the front. A horrible pressure mounting in muskull spread me.
I'll devre everything you hate. I stepped inside and I
set the gas cands down before uncrewing them. Then I stopped.
The pain in my head grew to a nake I
couldn't ignore, and I stumbled back, my eyes widening when
I saw them before me. It was like a winter
or I joone straight through my entire home, every color
waving through the air with the slickness of meat. I
backed up, muttering a prayer to the Lord while I
tried to figure out what to do, but they answered me,
rising to the ceiling in a shore force. You can't
tell us. This spoke all in the same unified voice
that made my heart shiver and my chest my skin rubbled,
was sweat before rippling across my body like a retreating tide,
threatening to disintegrate me on the spot if I made
one one move. But we are grateful. Your skin keeps
us warm and shelter. Your eyes show us the beauty
that we take. Our universe lies mangled and ruined. This
will be our home now we reward you. I could
feel the colors burrowing through me. Look, they were trying
to erase who I was. Do you not fight? You
belong to us. Your flesh fills us with laughter, and
we will shape it in our unbroken image. I struggled
with everything I had. Then Shelley was still outside and
started barking at the colors, lunging and biting at the air.
I could feel their folks break, and they rushed past
me faster than anything, snatching up my Shelley and dragging
her back into the room while she barked and hollowed.
I tried to grab her, but it happened so fast
they pulled her down into the basement, rays of broken
color still vibrating in the air. I couldn't do much
other than stand there. My heart was breaking all over
again while the worst came true right before my eyes.
Then I saw the rain but coming back up, and
the fear I felt in that moment was more than
I could take. I turned and run as fast as
my legs could carry me, tears on my cheeks while
a sprinted towards the main road, headed into Towel. I
was so lost and confused, I didn't know what else
to do. I could still feel the colors and my
skin cutting into me with every breath, but it felt
more like they were watching me. Their unified front had collapsed,
kept apart by their hate, yet somehow they still kept
each other in check. That or they had other plans
for me. They're inside me, and now they're spreading, pouring
out of that horrible room where I know they still
got her. They're doing to her exactly what they're going
to do to me. Sooner or later. I know it.
I can feel it. I'm in a safe place, but
that's only until they come back. I don't know where
they came from, but it will be long before they
take this town. There's nothing I can rightly think of
that stop them. How do you destroy a color? How
do you kill a rainbow? I'll lay low for a bit,
but I don't know how long that'll last. Knowing me,
I'm thinking I'll try and get back into my house
or whatever's left of it, to try and at least
stop Shirley from suffering. Even if I can't save her,
I just need some supplies. It won't be right for
me to try and leave, seeing as the Colors will
just hitch a ride. But I suppose that brings me
to another question, doesn't it? A question that's been haunting
me ever since this started, ever since I knew how
it was going to end? Do I want to see
everything fall apart and that is the end? Thank you
for listening, and I will see you in the next one.