Speaker 1: High Excursionists, it's way back Wednesday on Into the Night anthology,
a return to a story that left its mark. And
if you're a library member, don't forget there's another story
waiting just for you. Be sure to check your email
if you haven't found your way there yet, listen all
the way to the end to find out how you
can become a story in my library. High Excursionists, I
just wanted to take a moment to say thank you.
We appreciate every single one of our listeners. We do
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so please feel free to stop in and say hi
from time to time. I want to give a special
thanks to Nico Rodriguez for his rating and review on
Apple Podcasts. We are so glad you enjoy our stories.
This is a special two episode week. Today's episode, of course,
and then on Halloween we will be airing the title
episode of Into the Night. Be sure to join us
to see where it all began, and don't forget bring
a friend. Welcome to Endo the Night. I'm Nari, your
guide on today's excursion down a twisted path. Be careful
not to get lost. Be it dark or light, It's
easy to lose your way. Are you ready, then let's begin.
This episode deals with themes of supernatural horror. Listener discretion
is advised. Charcoal drawings, the pinks, purples, and golds of
an early October sunrise filtered their way through the scattered clouds.
Autumn was Mila Kennedy's favorite time of year, and this
year was special. After dreaming of becoming an art teacher
since junior high, Mila finally had a position at Highland
Hills Elementary for the area. This was a plum job.
How she was hired over teachers with years more experience
she didn't know, but she was going to question her
good fortune. It's obvious, honey, that your positive attitude and
enthusiasm won them over. Her mother told her, mom, You've
always been my biggest cheerleader. I just hope I'm good
enough and don't let the school down. Her mother took
Mala by the elbows and leaned in her green eyes
on fire with love. You listen here, you are the
best teacher for this job. You've lived for this moment.
Everyone loves your spunk. Now go make the world a
brighter place for those children. With her mother's pep talk,
in mind. Mila poured herself into the school year, teaching
kindergarten through fifth grade. Art kept her on her toes,
but she loved every second of her job. Each grade
brought its own challenges, but she did her best to
instill the fundamentals and to inspire the love for art. Children.
Look at the world around you, she would say, everything
you see can become art if you view it that way.
Did you see something today that you think is art?
Jimmy Martin raised his hand as twenty the other first
graders raised theirs. Yes, Jimmy, I saw a bird this morning,
a blue bird. It sat on a wooden fence. It
was pretty very good. Who else? Liza Gantry spoke next.
My grandmother has a rose bush in her front yard.
It's yellow. Yellow is my mom's favorite color. I'm sure
it's beautiful. Liza wriggled and smiled a shy little grin,
pleased that her answer was correct. Around the class, Mila,
or Miss Kennedy, as her students knew her, called on
each child my brother's new truck, the red barn at
the Klaus's farm, my dog Pixie. Each child had a
piece of real world art to talk about every day,
Mila Kennedy asked her students to think of something they
could see that they considered art. It could be as
simple as the pencil on their desk, or as exotic
as a peacock. After a month or so, she asked
her students to picture art objects in their minds. Close
your eyes, imagine what it would look like if you
drew it on a piece of sketch paper. She could
tell by the expressions on their faces that her eager
students visualized their art. This is what she'd always wanted.
Art became a part of her student's daily lives. One day,
mister Reynolds, the principal, stopped her in the hallway. I'm
not sure what magic you're casting in your classes, miss Kennedy,
but the students love your room. Parents have even told
me when they're driving in the car or taking a walk,
their children point out the art they see. Keep it up.
Mala blushed, Thank you, mister Reynolds. I'll do my best.
We're glad to have you here. With that, Reynolds, always
a man on the move, strode down the hallway. His
encouraging words fueled Mala to think of innovative ways to
teach her young students the fundamentals of art. They'd begun
the year with hands on clay sculptures. The children loved
feeling the medium in their little hands. Now she needed
another engaging project. One idea had tickled her brain for
a few months, and she decided that the time had
come to try it Today, class, we are going to
put art we see down on paper. Peter, will you
pass out the charcoal pencils for me? Lydia? Will you
give one sheet of sketch paper to each student? Smiling,
she patiently stood at the front of the room as
the supplies were handed out. What I want you to
do is close your eyes and imagine something that is
in this room that you would like to draw. Imagine
it as a piece of art, just like we've been practicing.
She gave the squirming students a moment to focus on
what the envisioned drawing. Now, open your eyes and draw
what you could see. But Miss Kennedy, yes, Hannah, we
don't have any colors, just black. That's right. I want
us to practice the basics first. Later this year we
will add color to our drawings. For now, we are
going to work on getting the shapes down. Make sure
you give your drawing a title too. We will be
practicing these same drawings every day for the next two weeks,
improving on the idea you come up with today. Her
students loved her, so they set to work, doing their
best to please her. At the end of class, a
few students rushed to put the finishing touches on their creations,
as she'd taught them. When the bell rang, they carefully
turned their work into their hour slot in the wooden
cabinet next to Mala's desk. They placed the charcoal pencils
back in a supply box. With smiles on their faces,
they filed out of the room. It was the end
of the day and the students hurried off to their
home room. Eager to see what her students drew. Mala
pulled the papers from the cabinet and flipped through them.
She was puzzled.
Speaker 2: Hmm.
Speaker 3: The children did as I asked. They gave their drawings titles.
But these are all of the same thing people. But
these aren't people who were in our room.
Speaker 1: One boy's drawing was entitled Gregor, a little girl's was
named Janno, and another named his bells Or. Each child's
drawing was a version of either Gregor, Janno or Bellzor. Perplexed,
the next day, she addressed her class, yesterday's students, we
were supposed to d pictures of something in this room.
All of you drew figures of people. You named them
all the same three names. I'd asked you to draw
something in this room, but we did. Miss Kennedy, Lydia
looked at her with wide blue eyes. You asked us
to close our eyes and draw what we saw. Peter
shifted in his chair and looked around the room at
his classmates for support. They all nodded in agreement. Yes,
I did. We always have our friends with us, Miss Kennedy,
you do, Billy, Yes, ma'am. She stood in thought for
a moment before she realized what her first graders meant.
Of course, are these your imaginary friends? Peter looked to
his left and whispered something to no one in particular.
He paused, then nodded, yes, Miss Kennedy. Gregor says, he's
our imaginary friend, and he's right here next to me.
He's in this room, so we can still draw him.
Having imaginary friends was natural for children. Mala didn't want
to dash the creativity of her students. This world would
have enough chances to destroy their imaginations, and there was
no reason for it to start. To day in her
class room, I did say we'd practice the same drawings
for two weeks, and this is what you chose to draw,
so yes, you can continue to draw them. Sighs of
relief swept through the class room. Jimmy said, Jano says
thank you. Mala chuckled and said, tell Jano he's welcome.
Speaker 2: Now for our.
Speaker 1: Lesson on the board, she modeled how to draw body, legs, arms,
and a head. The students went to work. Following her lead,
they created new versions of their previous drawings. Each day
a new aspect was practiced. At the end of the week,
Mila was amazed by how much their drawings had improved.
They became more detailed and less rudimentary. For being first graders,
they showed a great deal of talent. She marveled at
how the children's depictions of their imaginary friends were so similar.
Mila assumed they told each other so many stories about
these imaginary figures that they had a common description in mind.
She didn't want to brag, but the children were rapidly
learning the drawing techniques she'd modeled for them. She left
work on Friday feeling invigorated. Her project was coming along
better than she had hoped. The air was crisp and
the sky was clear. As she walked to her car,
Mala pulled her coat closed against her chest as the
wind whipped past her. The crimson of the maples mixed
with the golden cottonwood trees. How could an artist not
love autumn? The palette of colors was laid out across
the countryside, and Mala took the long way home so
she could enjoy the sights a little longer. The next Monday,
Mala picked up her lessons where she left off again.
The children's work was better than the time before.
Speaker 2: Children.
Speaker 1: I'm so proud of you. Your artwork is really improving
and I am very impressed. Thank you, Miss Kennedy. Shouts
of joy erupted in the classroom. Gregor says, he's glad
you like what you see. Peter smiled and nodded at
the air beside him as he passed out the charcoal
pencils to his classmates. By Wednesday, how however, an unusual
change in the drawings took Mila by surprise. A darkness
enveloped them. The details had improved yet again, but there
was an unsettling look in the eyes of Gregor, Jano
and Belzor. These imaginary friends looked downright well evil. Only
two more days to the unit remained, and Mala looked
forward to moving on to a happier project. Next week,
they would create Halloween decorations for the school hallway. On Thursday,
Mila's mind played tricks on her as she looked over
her student's work. She could have sworn the eyes of
the figures watched her. She heard someone whisper in the
back of the room. As she reached the end of
the stack of drawings. She jumped, and a sound akin
to laughter behind her made her turn. Of course, there
was nothing there. She gathered her purse and coat, looked
back into her classroom, then shut and locked the door.
This project was no longer fun. Friday, of course, brought
even more vivid images from the children. Nervously, she paced
round the room, checking their work as they furiously drew
to finish their masterpieces. Mila was eager for the week
and that project to be over. She was exhausted as
she made her rounds. Was she losing her mind? Surely
Jimmy's eyes didn't flicker black for an instant. No, that
couldn't be. Then a deep voice behind her said.
Speaker 2: Missus Kennedy, what do you think it looks real? Doesn't it?
Speaker 1: Startled? She spun around. Peter had held his picture up
for her to see. She forced a smile and said, yes,
it does, and it did. The bell rang, but the
students didn't place their drawings in the cabinet. Instead, they
left them sitting on their tables and rushed out the door, laughing. Well,
I guess on Monday I will have to remind them
what our end of class procedures are, she muttered to herself.
As she reached to pick up the first drawing, the
piercing glare of Gregor made her blood run cold. Before
she could pick up the paper, a clawed black hand
came out of the drawing and grasped her wrist. Gregor cackled.
Mala struggled to free herself. A rush of air swept
through the room and the paper swirled into the air,
spinning frantically in a blur. Gregor continued his hold on
her wrist.
Speaker 2: You cannot escape my hold. Mala, Can I call you Mala?
Missus Kennedy seems so formal. After all, we're friends, not
so imaginary friends. Isn't that right, my sweet?
Speaker 1: His other clawed hand reached out and caressed her face.
What's happening? This can't be real.
Speaker 3: Oh, but we are real.
Speaker 1: We just needed your help, two voices spoke in unison.
Mala turned around to see the incarnations of Jano and Belzar.
My help, what do you mean my help? You can't
be real.
Speaker 2: We are real now, Mala. We've waited so long to
be given form, and with your help here we are.
That chill and their drawings brought us into this world.
Now our work can be done.
Speaker 1: Jano's eyes sparkled. The three beings hissed hideous laughter. No,
you're nothing more than imaginary friends. I'm dreaming that I
see you. Gregor's razor sharp claw slid down Mila's forearm,
and a thin stream of blood flowed. He placed the
tip of his finger in his mouth.
Speaker 2: This is all real, and I yes, you are indeed,
my sweet?
Speaker 1: What are you? You're no childhood imaginary friend? Belsor took
a step forward.
Speaker 2: You're a smart one, Mala Kennedy, No, we are not
imaginary friends.
Speaker 1: What are you?
Speaker 2: Then?
Speaker 1: Jano and Belsor grinned and gave a nod toward Gregor,
who pulled her close to him. She smelled the putrid
stench of his breath and the odor of singed hair.
Speaker 2: My sweet, we are demons. We have waited a long
time for a means to cross over. We have hovered
in this school for decades. The children were right. We
were in this room and you told them to draw
what was in this room? You gave us our avenue
to materialize in this dimension.
Speaker 1: What are you going to do? Why are you here?
Let go of me. Mala tugged her arm, but Gregor
only tightened his grip.
Speaker 2: Do we are only the first others will follow my suite?
We are going to conquer this world.
Speaker 1: In a flash, He entered her body. On Monday, it
was second grade's turn to draw what was in the room.
Thank you for joining me for this episode of The
End Too the Night Anthology podcast written by Caroline Giamanco,
narrated by Naris Nico Rodriguez. All other original music, sound
design and editing by Omenhawk Studios. You can find our
links in the show notes. Into the Night is on
your favorite podcatcher, so make sure to like, subscribe and
leave a five star review to help other excursionists to
join us. I'll see you next time, and remember, whether
in the shadows or in the daylight, all twisted paths
lead you into the night. Into the Night Anthology is
a creative typo entertainment production you've been listening to way
back Wednesday from Into the Night Anthology. Library members already
have a second story waiting, and you can join them
anytime at Nari narrates dot com. Just look for the
blue Join the Library button.
Speaker 2: I'll see you there.