Speaker 1: Before we start today's episode, we're excited to announce the
biggest perk ever in the micro Terrrist fan Club. The
very first micro Terrors short film, The Dire More Phantom,
is now in production. Not only will Spooky and Terrified
fan club members get exclusive access to the movie when
it premieres, but they'll also receive a copy of the
screenplay signed by some of the cast and crew, as
well as a limited edition movie poster. Head on over
to microterrors dot com and click the micro Terrrist Films
tab at the top to follow the progress, and if
you're a Spooky or Terrified Tier fan club member, you'll
get even more behind the scenes photos and videos all
leading up to the movie's release.
Speaker 2: 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.
Speaker 1: Terror Ron Abbey, an original micro Terror by Scott Donnelly
and the Terrified members of the micro Terrorrist Fan Club.
When I arrived at mister and Missus Wellington's house, it
was pretty much what I thought it would be like.
It was a large, two story home that sat at
the edge of an old, rich neighborhood. I'd never met
mister or missus Wellington, nor had I ever seen their house,
but with a name like Wellington well I had a
gut feeling it would look like a mansion. I'd seen
their ad in the newspaper. Help wanted teenage babysitter, competitive pay,
full fridge access. It was spring break and I wanted
some extra spending cash. I used to babysit my little
cousins when they were little, so I figured I had
enough experience. My parents dropped me off in front of
the Wellington's home just before seven pm, and I waved goodbye.
I told them i'd call them when mister and Missus
Wellington returned home from their evening out and they could
come and pick me up. As my parents drove off
and disappeared around the corner, I faced the mansion before
me Okay, well, maybe it wasn't an actual mansion, but
it was far large than any house I'd ever been to.
My friends would be jealous if they knew I was
going to get to spend a few hours in this place.
I walked up to the door, where a brass lion
door knocker was front and center. I picked it up
by the handle and banged it against the door three times.
I stepped back, and a moment later it opened. Mister
Wellington stood there. He was tall, baby in his thirties
and wore what appeared to be a very expensive suit.
You must be abby, mister Wellington said, with a welcoming smile.
I nodded with what I had hoped was an equally
friendly smile. He then extended his hand and shook mine.
His grip was strong and his hand was nearly twice
the size mine was. Please come in, he added. I
walked into the home and stood close to the door,
my hands cuffed together in front of me, while my
backpack hung loosely from my shoulder. Mister Wellington closed the door.
We can't tell you how much we appreciate you responding
to our abb he said. Brenda and I were invited
to a party that we just can't pass up. And
obviously having a baby at home now, well, it makes
going out pretty difficult. I smiled again. Well that's where
I come in. I'll make sure your little bundle of
joy is safe and as content as possible. Just then,
missus Wellington or Brenda called from upstairs. Steve, can you
help me please? Steve Wellington rolled his eyes and laughed.
She can never decide what to wear. I'll be right back,
he said to me with a wink. Take your time,
I told him, I have all night. Steve dashed up
the red carpeted grand staircase and around the corner on
the second floor, where he disappeared. The house fell silent
and still. Somewhere in another room, I heard a grandfather
clock chime. It was seven pm. I looked to my
right and saw a tall entrance to another room. The
room was cast in flickering shadows. I noticed a few
candles displayed on a table within it. To my left
was a hallway. It looked long, like it went on forever,
and was lined with doors that all looked identical to
one another. That's when I noticed that only one of
the doors appeared to be open. It was slightly a jar.
It stood out from the rest which were all closed.
Then I saw movement from within the open gap of
the door. Long bony fingers, gray and fragile, extended out
from the darkness within the room. They grabbed the door
and pulled it shut. As soon as the door clicked shut,
a chill ran down my spine. What was that, I wondered.
The fingers didn't look like normal fingers. They were much
longer than normal ones, slow moving in a dull gray color.
Skin looked like dead skin to me. I glanced up
the grand staircase. Neither mister or Missus Wellington were within sight.
I couldn't even hear them anymore. So I made a decision.
I had to check out the door in the hall.
I slowly walked toward the hall, careful not to let
my footsteps draw attention to me, and crept down to
the door that had just been pulled shut. I stopped
right outside of it and listened. Something shuffled behind it.
I gently pressed my palm against it and leaned in closer.
The shuffling sound stopped. I froze, waiting to hear it again.
My heart stopped and I held my breath as I
awaited any further noises, but there was nothing. No shuffle,
no drag, no click, no clack. A hand touched my
back and I recoiled, releasing a startled shriek. I spun
around just as my heart jumped, started back to life,
and nearly burst out.
Speaker 2: From my chest.
Speaker 1: Ah it was mister Wellington standing there behind me in
the hallway with a curious smile. Okay, he laughed. I
caught my breath and nodded, glancing back at the door.
But with his calm, lighthearted reaction and dis interest in
what I was doing, it made me feel like whatever
was behind the door was no big deal at all.
Maybe it was just a family member, a living grandparent,
an old weird aunt.
Speaker 2: Something.
Speaker 1: I placed my hand on my chest as I calmbed
down from the scare follow me. Steve said, we're about
to leave. I followed Steve Wellington back out to the
bottom of the grand staircase. That was when I first
laid my eyes on missus Wellington. She was tall, beautiful,
and wore a striking red dress. Her hair flowed down
over her shoulders, and her diamond ear rings glinted under
the chandelier high up on the vaulted ceiling above us.
This is my wife, Brenda, Steve said, introducing us. Brenda
smiled and shook my hand. Abby, I shyly replied, shaking
her hand. Her grip wasn't as strong as Steve's, but
her skin was much smoother. It's nice to meet you, Abby,
Brenda said. We can't thank you enough for your service tonight.
It's my pleasure. I said so badly. To look down
the hallway again. All get the cars started while you
explain things to her, Steve said to Brenda. He shot
me another smile and wink before leaving through the front door.
Brenda and I stood there alone. So Florence is asleep,
Brenda said, she's bent still cranky today. If I were you,
I would try your best to not make much noise.
Trust me, you don't want her to wake up. If
she does, there's milk for her in the fridge that
usually calms her down a bit. There's also food and
drinks for you too, I smiled. I couldn't wait to
check out the fridge. Brenda then handed me a small
business card. This is Steve's work card, she said. It
has a cell phone number on it. If there's an emergency,
please don't hesitate to call, and we'll be home as
soon as we can. I nodded, stuffing the card into
the side pocket on my backpack. Any questions, Brenda then asked.
Of course, the bony fingers in the hallway were still
on my mind, so oh I had to inquire somehow.
Is anyone else here? I asked, like, do you have
any other guests, old aunts? Anyone? Brenda laughed, No, it's
just the three of us. The house will probably seem
extra quiet while you're here, as long as Florence stays asleep.
That is. There's a TV in the basement if you
want to watch some movies, and a pool table down
that hallway. She pointed down the hall that had already
seized my curiosity. The car horn honked outside. I have
to go, Brenda said, Don't want to keep Steve waiting.
She smiled and slung her purse over her shoulder. Don't
hesitate to call if you need something, she reiterated, before
rushing out the front door. Once it closed and clicked
shut behind her, I locked it and immediately realized just
how quiet it was in the Wellington house. Brenda wasn't
joking for a moment. I felt as if I were
locked in a soundless room. That was until I heard
the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the other room.
My stomach suddenly growled, creating disorder in the silent atmosphere.
I glanced back down the hallway. All was still, All
was silent. Mister Wellington made it seem as if there
wasn't anything at all to be concerned with down there.
Brenda assured me it was just the two of them,
plus baby Florence that lived in the house. I began
to wonder if I was overthinking what I had seen,
if I'd even seen anything at all to begin with.
My stomach growled again, commanding my full attention. The hallway
could wait, my hunger couldn't. I needed a snack, and
I needed it now. I walked to the kitchen and
flipped on the light. It buzzed on the ceiling above
me as I trotted across the tile floor and toward
the fridge. I pulled it open and the cool, bright
interior was revealed. The top shelf housed what looked like
Chinese leftovers and bottled drinks. The middle shelf was lined
with cheese, lunch meat, lettuce, basically anything you'd need to
make a sandwich. On the left side of the bottom
shelf were several plastic bottles of milk for Florence. Just
to the right of those was a bowl of freshly
cut berries. That's all I needed to see for my
mouth to water. I grabbed the bowl of berries with
both hands and pulled it out, accidentally knocking one of
the baby's milk bottles out of the fridge. Oh no,
I yelped as I tried to grab it, but I
missed it completely and it hit the tile floor with
a loud crack. I stared down at it, waiting for
the milk to burst out from a crack in the
side or even out the top. But it didn't. And
even more curious, the milk didn't even move. It didn't
slosh around or settle on its side. It was motionless.
I pushed the bowl of berries back onto the shelf
and picked up the milk bottle. I studied it, looking
it up and down and all around. It was fake.
It wasn't real milk at all. There wasn't even a
liquid inside of it. I checked the other bottles, all
of which were labeled Florin's milk, and they were all
the same. Why wasn't it real? Did that mean Florence
wasn't Just then, the kitchen light flickered and went out.
The cool, bright glow from the fridge was all I had.
I turned around to face the kitchen doorway, and my
blood ran cold. A dark, gangly figure, hidden mostly in
the shadows, stood there with its long, bony fingers on
the light switch.
Speaker 2: You don't remember me, do you?
Speaker 1: It spoke in a low, raspy voice. I was shaking.
Whatever I was looking at, Whatever hid so well in
the shadows of the kitchen entrance wasn't human. The weight
it's bony fingers clicked and fidgeted at the light switch
was unnerving. Why did it shut the light off? Did
it not want to be seen? Was I'm not supposed
to see it? Its last words repeated in my head.
Speaker 2: You don't remember me, do you?
Speaker 1: I was certain I've never met a creepy, shadowy entity before,
But there was something about the voice, the rasp, the
low tone, that tickled a core memory. It was buried deep,
but there was a flit of familiarity there. I nodded, sure,
I said, my voice just as shaky as my body.
I do remember you, of course I do. Aside from
the vague feeling of deja vous, I didn't actually remember
him or her or it, but being trapped in the
kitchen with my only way out blocked, I had to
play along good. It said, Then you know why I'm here.
You know why I'm back. I didn't respond. I just
stood there, shivering in uncertain fear, gripping the bottle of
fake milk in my hand. You're trouble, abby, it said
from the shadows. That's why I'm here. Did you look
at the card Brenda gave you? The card Steve's work card.
Brenda said it had his cell phone number on it.
I stuffed it in a pocket on my backpack, I
padded to the bag still slung over my shoulder. It's
in here, I said, feeling a little less threatened and
slightly more comfortable with the shadowy figure. As weird as
that sounded, there's only so much I can do, it
raspfully said, look at the card. I placed the bottle
back in the fridge, but kept the door open for
the light. I moved my backpack around in front of
me so I could try and keep an eye on
the entity in the doorway while I fished out Steve's
work card. I looked at it and the glowing light
at the refrigerator. It said the Life Still Network Steve
Wellington had of recruitment. What's the life Still Network, I asked,
looking back up to the figure in the doorway. However,
it was gone. It had vanished as quickly and eerily
as it appeared. Hello, I called out. It didn't answer.
Then I heard a door click shut from somewhere close.
I closed the fridge and rushed out of the kitchen.
I looked left and then right. A door nearby grabbed
a attention. It was close enough that it could have
been the one that had just clicked shut. I slowly
turned the knob and opened it. Stairwell descended in front
of me. At the bottom, a tall, gangly shadow appeared
on the wall. It moved away from where it stood,
and the shadow disappeared. I gulped. Whoever that shadow entity
was was leading me to the basement. From what Brenda
told me, there was a TV in the basement if
I wanted to watch movies, But now I was getting
the feeling that there might have been more down there.
I took a deep breath and slowly began to descend
to the basement stairs. Each step I took my heart
beat faster in my chest. Once my feet touched the
carpeted basement floor, I braced myself for what I was
about to see once I turned the corner. But when
my eyes absorbed everything the basement had to offer, my
fear quickly subsided. There was nothing, nothing out of the ordinary.
There was a TV just like Brenda said, a long
couch with n tables on either side of it, paintings
on the walls, and two doors off to my right.
More importantly, there was no shadowy figure with long, bony fingers.
The large open basement room was empty. I walked in
cautiously to take a better look, but there was nowhere
for it to hide behind, nowhere for anything to hide
unless I faced the two doors along the right wall.
They looked like closet doors at first, tall and more
narrow than normal doors, but the more I studied them,
they seemed out of place. One door had a silver knob,
one had a black one. Huh Why two different colored
knobs with how fancy the wellingtons were? Two different colored
knobs didn't seem cohesive unless they were to signify a difference.
And that's when my heart began to race again. I
was led down here for a reason, after all, and
now I couldn't remove my focus from the two different
colored doorknobs, one silver, one black. What was the difference
between them? What was behind each of them? I stopped
before I worked myself up into a panic attack. I
pulled out my phone and tried an Internet search for
the Life Still Network. The first result was their official website. However,
it proved to be as vague and cryptic as possible
against a blue background with white text. There were strange
mentions of life not having to end with death, avatars
for continued living prototypes and their beta phase. I didn't
really understand what any of it was. What I did
find weird, though, weird and unnerving, were the colors of
the text used on the website. Every time the word
prototype was used, it was in black. Every time life
was used, it was in silver. I looked up from
my phone doorknobs before me, one black, one silver. Could
they have also represented life and prototype? And if so,
what was behind.
Speaker 2: Each of them?
Speaker 1: I needed to find out? Just before I reached for
one of the knobs. I felt the presence of the
shadowy entity again. It was behind me. It was there
as a guide, a friend, a protector. I remembered what
it was now, and it had been a long time
since I had seen it. I was in good hands,
and I found the courage to push forward. But first
I turned around to confront my old friend. He stood there, tall, gangly.
His skin was tightly stretched over his bones. His fingers
were elongated, as were his exposed toes. His head was
tall and stretched back, with dead gray skin hanging from
it like loose rags. His eyes were bloodshot, one larger
than the other, and his teeth were sharp as nails,
with a slimy forked tongue slithering in and out between them.
I didn't scream. I smiled. Hi James, I said, Hi, Abby,
he said back to me, his voice still as raspy
as ever. His appearance was startling by design, by my design,
because no matter how scary something was, or how much
danger I found myself in James, the imaginary friend I
created when I was four, would always be much scarier
and more dangerous, and he would be on my side.
You're in danger, Abby, he said, again. I didn't respond.
I just swallowed hard. I could sense danger, but I
couldn't put a finger on it. Lawrence isn't real, James hissed,
echoing a thought that had started to manifest in my
own head. James then lifted an arm and extended a
bony finger toward the narrow doors behind me. Shall we
opened them together? I nodded, swallowing another hard gulp of saliva.
I turned and faced the doors, one with a black knob,
one with a silver knob. I reached for the black
knob first, the knob I thought might represent prototype. I
turned it slowly and pulled the door open. A fluorescent
light buzzed to life inside the narrow walkway before me,
as if were triggered by a sensor on either side
of the narrow walkway or shelves. On those shelves were dolls, plastic, porcelain, glass, rubber.
They were all made of something different. Sound began to
creep out from the walkway. In fact, it was a
heavy chorus of sounds. Bumps like heartbeats, sniffles like people
holding back tears, gasps like startled breaths. I closed the
door quickly, check the other one James spoke behind me.
I did as he said. With James there as my support,
my protection, I opened the second door, the wand with
the silver knob, the one I assumed signified life. Where
shelves were in the other walkway. Were people in this one,
boys and girls within my age group. They were harnessed
to the walls and motionless. They didn't look like they
were dead, but rather in a state of disconnection. Their
eyes were wide, their lips dry, their bodies as still
as stone statues. You need to leave, James hissed so
closely in my ear that I could almost feel his
hot breath on my skin. Get out of here, abby,
I turned and ran back up the basement stairs as
fast as I could. My heart was racing, my mind
still plagued by the uncanny sight in the basement. As
soon as I reached the foyer of the house, I
heard something that set my teeth on edge and made
my blood run cold. It was a baby crying from upstairs.
Was Florence real after all? Or was it all in
my head? Regardless, I was here for a baby sitting job,
and if there was the slightest chance that Florence was
real and crying. I had to go check on her.
It was my responsibility. Dashed upstairs and followed her cry.
It grew louder as I navigated the upstairs of the house,
and finally I came to a door with whimsical letters
on it that spelled out Florence. I could hear her
crying on the other side of it. I pushed the
door open. The room was mostly dark, but a night
light in the corner gave it a soft glow, as
did the carousel like baby mobile spinning above her crib.
I approached the edge of the crib and peered down
into it. That's when I saw Florence. She was in
the middle of the crib, the top of the blankets,
and just as I feared, she wasn't real. She was
a doll made of plastic and rubber. But the cries
that came from her, the haunting cries, were real.
Speaker 2: Somehow.
Speaker 1: The bedroom light suddenly flipped on, and I spun around
to see mister and Missus Willington standing in the doorway.
Steve looked annoyed, while Brenda looked concerned. She charged into
the room and pushed me aside, going straight for Florence.
Is she okay. Brenda asked, did you feed her milk?
I wasn't sure how to respond. I looked back at Steve,
who still lurked in the doorway with a disapproving look
on his face. Behind him, a shadow stretched on the wall,
eventually taking the shape of James. You think we're crazy,
don't you, Steve said to me. You don't agree with
my job, my line of work, I can tell, I
swallowed hard. I'm sure of what to say. I I
don't know what your job is. I managed to get out.
I work for the life still network, Steve said, taking
another step into the room. We strive to one day
create avatars for children and adults who well aren't going
to make it in this world for one reason or another.
That way, their conscience can live on in a more
permanent form, and their friends and families won't have to
completely lose them. I looked back at Brenda, who was
now sitting down in a rocking chair, with Florence softly
shushing her. Steve continued, Florence was ours. She was the
first one that genuinely worked, Steve said, his voice choking up.
The others downstairs. They were test subjects, prototypes, one day,
Florence will grow up and become a young woman like yourself.
Steve looked at me now in a more ominous manner.
As her conscience and mind grow, she'll need a new
avatar wanted to match her growth and intelligence. James's gruff
voice spoke from the doorway as Stephen stepped closer. Run, Abby,
He's going to take you run now. After all these
years hiding in the furthest corners of my mind, James
had returned to do exactly what I had created him for,
for protection and a friend who would look out for
me in times of fear and peril. I wasn't going
to let his re emergency for nothing. In one fluid motion,
I let my backpack fall down my shoulder and arm,
and just as Steve reached out for me, I swung
it with all my might and knocked him backwards. He
crashed into the crib and collapsed to the ground. As
I took off as fast as I could, James followed
me closely as I clambered down the stairs, through the
foyer and burst out the front door. You were never
here a babysit, James said to me. It was all
a ruse they wanted your body to be the basis
for the next avatar. Surely that would come at a
devastating price. We have to get out of here, I said,
looking up and down the street, not sure which way
to go. Just then I heard the front door to
the Wellington's house slam shut. I turned around and watched
Steve's silhouette appear in one of the side windows. He
stared out at me momentarily before pulling the curtains shut.
Then one by one, the lights in the house all
shut off. I think you're safe, James said, you are
too much of a risk for him. Now we should
report this, I said, all those kids in the basement,
someone must be looking for them. James nodded, yeah, unless
they were volunteers. I don't recall a flurry of missing
people in town making the news. Maybe they were all
donated by their parents in hopes the Life Still network
could help them. I wasn't sure what to think. The
whole thing was creepy and made me feel sick. Donations, volunteers, captives,
It didn't matter. I pulled out my phone to call
my parents as I ran far away from the Wellington's
house as fast as I could. James was right behind
me like a shadow, vowing to never leave again. It
was a big scary world out there, with big scary things,
and now even the simple, innocent sounds of a baby
crying set shivers down my spine. The end.
Speaker 3: The house, at the edge of the labor her food
with a lion on the door, shann to leave her
a bu bu and along dark cory door she came
the Babysit. Thought the job would be just fine, but
something in the hallway made her stop being change her mind.
Run Abby, run Abbey, get out while you can't.
Speaker 4: Don't trust the ell and the woman or maiden. Something
is wrong and you know it is true. Run Abby, run,
They're come in for you.
Speaker 3: There's a card inside of backpack with a name she
doesn't know, and on website full of secrets that was
putting on a show.
Speaker 4: She heard the baby crying, but the milk wasn't ey
real land the deeper that she dug for her, She
started up. He'll run at run Abey, get out. Why
you came, don't trust the well turn warman or man strong,
and you know it is true. Run out the run.
They're coming for you.
Speaker 3: She wasn't all lonely. An old friend found his way
back from the darkest corners.
Speaker 4: Of her mind to help her get away.
Speaker 3: She's running down the sidewalks and she won't look back.
Speaker 4: Again, because the scariest things in this world can be
hiding in the plane sight my friend.
Speaker 3: Run, run at it, get out while you can't.
Speaker 2: Don't shut the way.
Speaker 4: Turn along a man something you know it is true,
Run out of it.
Speaker 2: There come in. Thank j you.
Speaker 3: Jube fend Job.
Speaker 1: Roun Abby was a Choose your Adventure style collaboration between
Scott Donnelly and the terrified members of the micro Terrorist
Fan Club, where each week for seven weeks, fan club
members would vote in a poll to determine which twist
the story would take next. All the twists, all the turns,
It's your choice. If you'd like to participate in the
next It's your Choice story, head on over to the
micro Terrorist Fan Club, where the first part of the
next story is pinned and waiting for you. Coming up
next week on micro Terror's two young Friends venture into
the woods, where a ghostly local legend is said to haunt.
Beware the ghosts dog. Thank you all for being such
dedicated micro Terrorist listeners. I'm your narrator, Darren Marler. We'll
see you next week. I'll see you then too. Oh,
forget it, you don't even scare me.
Speaker 2: Well fine, 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 Terrified by joining the
fan club at microterrors dot com. You 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 micro terrors. I hope you'll join us
again soon for Microterrs scary stories for kids