Speaker 1: Calaruga Shark Media. Welcome to Ghost Scary Stories and the
October Records, a month long Halloween Nightmare. This is episode
twenty one, The Convergence.
Speaker 2: October twenty first, nineteen seventy four. Silas Crane. They're all here,
everyone touched by the pattern at the library, my library,
surrounding the building. The Davidson's from the walls, the nurses
from the morgue, the children from the bus, the congregation
from the church, the residents from the apartments, all of them.
But they're not separate anymore. They're merging. Missus Davidson's arm
extends from Nurse Holloway's mouth, Timothy Brennan's legs grow from
Pastor Williams's back, Striver's head splits open, and the radio
DJ crawls out. They're becoming one thing, one body, thirty
parts forming a hole, and at the center. At the
center is a hole, a gap, a missing piece. They're
waiting for something, someone, the thirty first, the one who
binds them all. They're coming in through the windows, through
the walls, through the floor. They're saying something, all of them,
same words, same voice. The witness must join, the witness
must complete the witness.
Speaker 3: Must Hello, Margaret, it's me you. Sarah from seventeen seventy four.
I'm in the library with Silas now in his throat,
in his lungs, drowning him from inside, like you're drowning,
Like we're all drowning. Tomorrow, I'll be in you, all
of us will. The convergence isn't a meeting. It's emerging.
Thirty become one, become none, become all. See you soon,
see you, always, see you never The twenty wrong Margarets
were still here when I woke. They'd spent the night
redecorating My office. Walls now showed my deaths, not painted,
growing from the walls like fungi, three dimensional recreations in
flesh and bone. Seventeen seventy four Sarah Blackwood belly split open,
thirty infants crawling out. Eighteen twenty four. Sarah Blackwood drowned
in the fountain, bodies sprouting into the town's water supply.
Eighteen seventy four, Sarah Blackwood burned as a witch, her
ashes becoming the soil. Nineteen twenty four. Sarah Blackwood dissected alive,
her organs mapping the pattern. Nineteen seventy four, Sarah Blackwood
merged with the library, her nervous system becoming the filing system.
Today's the day the antlered, Margaret said, convergence day when
all the separate horrors realize they're the same horror. The
library doors exploded open, not inward, this time outward, being
pushed by something massive trying to squeeze through. It was them,
all of them, the marked from the past twenty days,
but wrong, so wrong. They'd fused into something that shouldn't exist.
A body made of bodies. The Holloway family formed one leg,
their faces screaming from the kneecap. The Patterson family was
an arm, each finger, a child, with their mouths open,
revealing throats that went deeper than should be possible. The
church congregation had become the torso. Their bodies twisted into organs,
hearts that prayed, lungs that sang hymns, a stomach lined
with pews, and the head. The head was forming from
the twenty three children, their bodies liquefying, reshaping, becoming something
that had too many eyes, all looking in different directions,
all seeing different times. We are the pattern, it spoke
with hundreds of voices. We are the body of it.
We are what happens when thirty pieces remember they're the
same piece, the wrong Margarets began walking toward it, into it,
melting into its flesh, adding to its mass. No, I said,
backing away, I'm not part of this. The massive thing laughed,
and windows shattered throughout downtown. You're the most important part,
the witness, the recorder, the memory. Without you, we're just
meet with you. We're meaning.
Speaker 4: Davidson walked through the wall, not the mayor, All the Davidsons,
every generation, fused into one impossibly old man whose skin
showed centuries like tree rings. It's time, he said, his
voice layered with ages. The convergence needs its center, its observer.
It's Sarah. The thing that had been thirty families reached
for me with appendages that shouldn't exist, a hand made
of tongues, fingers that were entire arms, palms that were faces.
It touched me, and I felt it, the merging, my
skin connecting to theirs, my blood mixing with theirs, my
thoughts becoming theirs. I was Sarah in seventeen seventy four,
pregnant and afraid. I was Margaret in eighteen twenty four.
Documenting the first return. I was Elizabeth in eighteen seventy four,
trying to break the pattern. I was Dorothy in nineteen
twenty four, accepting the inevitable. I was Catherine in nineteen
seventy four, hiding the recordings. I was myself in twenty
twenty five, playing them. But also I was the Davidson
in his walls. I was the nurse in the morgue.
I was the child on the bus. I was the
voice on the radio. I was everyone and no one
and stop. Father Williams burst through the convergence, but not merged,
fighting his inverted body, allowing him to exist inside and
outside simultaneously. The convergence is a lie, he screamed through
external lungs. It's not meant to merge us. It's meant
to digest us, make us easier to swallow one big
piece instead of thirty small ones. He pulled me free,
but I left skin behind, layers of myself peeling off,
adding to the mass. Run, he gasped, get to the fountain,
the real convergence point where Sarah actually died. That's where
you can The mass absorbed him mid sentence. His inverted
body became just another organ in its impossible anatomy, but
his words echoed from inside it. The fountain. Halloween the Choice.
I ran through streets, where buildings were leaning toward each other,
trying to merge, Where cars were fusing with their drivers,
where pets and owners were becoming single creatures. The town
was converging, everything pulled toward a single point, the fountain.
When I arrived, I found her, Sarah Blackwood, the original,
standing in the fountain, still pregnant after two hundred and
fifty one years, still dying, still giving birth, Hellomi, she said,
ready to converge, properly, ready to become what we've always been.
Behind me, the thirty family mass approached, filling the entire street,
absorbing everything it touched. Choose, Sarah said, Merge with them
and become the pattern itself, or merge with me and
become the solution. What's the difference, She smiled, and water
poured from her mouth. One makes us food, the other
makes us poison. But either way we're getting eaten. The
mass reached the fountain's edge, waiting, watching hungry, ten days
until Halloween, ten days to decide which convergence I choose,
But looking at the mass at Sarah. At my own
reflection in the black water, I realize the convergence already happened.
I'm already all of them. The question is am I
the meal converging or the mouth? Tomorrow I'll play October
twenty second tomorrow. The past speaks tonight. I'm standing between
two convergences, two hungers, two versions of myself, and I
can feel myself splitting down the middle, trying to choose both,
becoming neither, dissolving into the space between.
Speaker 1: Ghost Scary Stories is a production of Caloroga Shark Media.
Some elements of AI may have been used in this production,
but it was written, edited, mixed, and produced by Real
Live People Executive producers Mark Francis and John McDermott.