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The Storage Papers is a fiction horror podcast.
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Transcript
WRITTEN BY JEREMY ENFINGER
PERFORMANCES BY JEREMY ENFINGER (JEREMY)
SOUND:
Warbling.
As Malcolm placed both hands on the Pyramidion, it began glowing in a way I hadn’t seen it do before when one of us touched it. As it grew brighter, I could see Malcolm’s facial expression for a moment as the light revealed crazy eyes and a hint of hope. Then he began chanting.
We all just stood there mesmerized by the light show before us, like a sunset over the ocean with vibrant colors changing by the second. Malcolm’s voice grew louder and louder. I looked over at Ron, whose mouth was agape. Joseph was pacing back and forth running his fingers through his hair, seemingly conflicted about what actions to take. And then I looked at Brianne, who had a calmness about her. She was watching, but also seemed like she was concentrating on something. What that was, I couldn’t tell you.
I thought to myself, “Why the fuck are we just standing here?”
I looked back at Ron and said, “Shoot that asshole,” but he just stood there, frozen, while Joseph focused his energy on him again to prevent him from making a move. I grabbed Joseph by the collar and said, “If you aren’t going to let him intervene, then why the hell are we here?”
Joseph’s eyes teared up as he weakly replied, “He’s my grandson.”
I relaxed my grip on his collar and did the only thing I could do at the time: watch. I had considered punching Joseph, but the thought was fleeting. A billow of smoke began rising from the Pyramidion. Not white smoke, but dark and black, as if something had caught fire. It began to fill the room and obscure the dull colored lights that were being emitted, making it extremely difficult to see much beyond the boundaries of the cage. I heard some shuffling noises that grew louder with every second, and then I heard chanting from a couple of different voices, barely mumbling at first, and then more voices joined in from beyond the fence.
I turned to look at the others, and from the looks on their faces, which were difficult to make out due to the smoke, they all seemed to be surprised to hear other voices as well. It was then that I noticed the smoke wasn’t actually making it difficult to breathe when it should have been. I also realized there was no smell associated with it… just a visual representation of smoke that affected no other senses. I wondered if it was a hallucination, or if someone had managed to somehow induce this kind of thing in order to obscure what was happening in the cage. Was that possible?
Before I could gather more thoughts and manage to communicate my questions to the group, Brianne spoke up and said, “The eleven have returned.”
She was referring to the Divine Acolytes who, when we first arrived, were unconscious and presumably dead on the floor within the cage. Had they really been dead and brought back to life, or was this some sort of facade to distract us from what was really going on? Either way, my mind immediately thought of the images from the book. The very last stage of the ritual being performed showed the eleven people once on the floor in the previous image, now standing with smiles on their faces. The thought of that sent chills down my spine. Had Malcolm really been pulling this off?
I suppose that’s what we were all thinking as we stood there with dumb looks on our faces. We had rushed over here, but we were not at all prepared. Joseph turned to me and said, “Jeremy, you can stop this.”
I didn’t know what he meant. He continued, “You need to tap into whatever abilities you have and find a way.”
I told him I couldn’t even see what the hell was going on. I really had no clue what he expected me to do. As my mind frantically began sorting through experiences I’d had when I may have been able to pull off some ability-adjacent feats, the truth was, I didn’t know how to control any of it. It’s not like I just need to “have faith” or “feel the force” as Yoda would have instructed Luke Skywalker. Shit just happened and I had no way to connect the cause of it. Hell, that stuff likely happened while I was asleep if my memory serves me correctly.
Suddenly the fencing in front of us began to shake violently. Joseph and Ron looked at me as if to imply I was responsible and they were witnessing me figuring out how to control my abilities. This unfortunately was not the case, however. I shrugged my shoulders as if to say, “It’s not me,” and then I looked at Brianne. She had an expression on her face I hadn’t seen before. It appeared to be anger mixed with determination, and very serious. We watched as she held her hand up and pointed at the fencing with her right index and middle fingers extended, and with a flick of her wrist, the metal groaned as it tore apart in front of us all.
We watched, astonished, as she took a step forward and the black smoke began to divide so that we could visibly make out what was happening around the Pyramidion. It became windy in the room, as if a tornado was passing through, allowing the smoke to dissipate more. Swirling tendrils of it began forming between our group and the Pyramidion, and eventually it began to form in the shape of a person.
What was even more confusing was what we witnessed next. With visibility still pretty low, we could see the silhouettes of the people who had been chanting all around us. They were convulsing violently as they were standing upright, as if they were all having seizures, and then one by one, their forms distorted. We heard the cracking and snapping of bones accompanied by screams of agony as they transformed in shape from human-like to amorphous blobs, suspended in the air. There was so much suffering happening in that room.
We followed Brianne beyond the fencing that she destroyed, and as we did, the screams stopped and those amorphous blobs began to glide slowly through the air to approach us. We all huddled together a little more tightly as they encroached, and we could make out details of their faces. One by one, they each approached us within just a couple of inches of our faces, examining us. As one of them came nose to nose with me, I could see its eyes, which were blackened and hollow, with wisps of black smoke emanating from them. Its mouth began moving as if it were trying to speak, but no audible noise came out of it. Only more wisps of the black smoke.
What seemed like an eternity with each of them taking turns closely examining us was probably really only 20 or 30 seconds, but in that amount of time, all eleven of the blobs eventually floated past us and conjoined with the person-shaped smoke pillar that stood between us and the Pyramidion. As they did, their screams resumed but sounded somewhat distant, and we could all hear the ragged, bass-y breathing of the being which stood in front of us. It grew in height before us as it faced the Pyramidion and more bone snaps could be heard as it clenched its fists. Suddenly, I was filled with fear.
Ron’s firearm rang loud as three shots were fired into its back. It didn’t move, and it appeared as if the bullets went right through it without effect. We all stood in silence as the rattling breathing grew louder, and then it turned to face us. The smell of sulfur, like rotten eggs and trash, filled the air and I became nauseated.
I could feel the others’ tension as this intimidating force stood before us, but then I remembered my conversation with Dr. Maldonado. His translation of the original text of the book said, “chosen blood must be spilled” for the ritual to successfully summon this being. I told Ron, Brianne, and Joseph that I didn’t believe this creature could harm us because the summoning is not yet complete.
Joseph asked me what I meant, and I relayed the bit about chosen blood needing to be spilled, and that the text may be referring to the “chosen people” as people with abilities. Which meant Malcolm likely needed the blood of someone with abilities or he needed to kill someone with abilities to complete the summoning.
Joseph suddenly said, “We shouldn’t have come,” at the same time I realized that we were all potentially the final catalyst, the chosen people, that could make Malcolm’s plan come into fruition… well, all of us except Ron. As far as we knew, his wife was the one who passed on her gifts to Ben and Brianne, which probably made him expendable in Malcolm’s eyes. But if Malcolm could somehow apprehend Brianne, Joseph, or myself, he could actually pull this off.
I turned to Brianne and said, “We need to get the hell out of here!”
Ron motioned toward the stairs leading up to the first floor of the house and said, “Let’s go. Now!” Almost as quickly as we had turned to make our way toward the only way in or out of the basement, we all witnessed the wooden stairs coming apart with violent twisting and snapping.
We were all very confused, and we turned to look back toward Malcolm and the near fully-manifested “god of corrupting” behind us. Malcolm had that same look of concentration on his face that I had seen just a few moments ago on Brianne’s when she tore apart the fence. He also had the same ability!
With no possible way to exit the basement now, we all went into “fight or flight” mode, with the exception of Joseph, who no doubt was conflicted about our options. Malcolm, in removing our only exit, had forced us into a position where flight wasn’t an option, and since we’d already seen evidence that Joseph wasn’t willing to fight Malcolm, he chose the third option: to freeze. I think he realized at that point Malcolm left us no choice, and he resigned to the fact that Malcolm had forced his hand, yet he wasn’t willing to take part in Malcolm’s eventual downfall.
We had to do something! Ron drew his firearm again, and this time, Joseph didn’t restrain him. We approached the tall, smoky ethereal version of this deity, knowing it had no power… yet. As we passed Malcolm, a look of panic crossed his face, and he darted away behind the Pyramidion. There really wasn’t anywhere for him to go, and it didn’t seem like running was his style, so we were a bit confused.
He shortly reappeared at the right side of the Pyramidion, but with one arm still outstretched behind it, as if he was concealing something he held. I told Ron, “Careful, he’s got something in his hand!”
Malcolm playfully pulled out a long dagger. I had seen it before. It was the same dagger that I used to carve a large star into Malcolm’s chest with in a church so long ago. Then Malcolm said, “A debt is owed, and I’m going to collect. Right here, right now.”
Ron, in an almost cliche sort of way, said, “Looks like you brought a knife to a gunfight.”
Malcolm laughed and said, “God, I love this guy! But, that’s not entirely true.”
Then he reached a bit further behind the Pyramidion to grab something else. When he came out of the shadows, the hand not holding a dagger gripped the upper arm of someone else in the room we hadn’t yet seen. As he pulled them by the arm out from behind the pyramid, we could see a shorter, thinner person with a burlap sack over their head and hands bound behind their back. My guess was it had to be some preteen or child.
Ron said, “Who the fuck is that, Malcolm?”
Malcolm laughed and said, “You really don’t know?”
Ron raised his firearm to train it on Malcolm with more accuracy, but Malcolm quickly placed himself behind the person and raised the dagger to their throat as we heard muffled protests. It was clear that their mouth had been taped closed underneath the sack.
Malcolm said, “I’ve said it before, and I’ve said it to more than one of you…” (insinuating Brianne and me), “Someone is going to pay.”
There wasn’t enough light in the room to visibly appreciate it, but I could tell he said this with a smile. Then he said, “I’ll give you a choice. You can pay your own debt, or I’ll take it from this little fellow here.”
I looked at Ron as if to ask, “What can we do?”
He just looked back at Malcolm and concentrated his aim on him. I’m guessing he was internally trying to decide if he had the ability to shoot Malcolm without hitting his hostage. As I looked at Malcolm behind the person with the sack over their head again, noticing how well Malcolm was leaving very few parts of himself exposed, a wave of confusion hit me as I began to recognize some familiar aspects of the clothing they were wearing… but I wasn’t sure why at first.
My thoughts were interrupted as Joseph walked up behind Brianne and began whispering in her ear. I heard Brianne say, “No.”
Then Joseph responded, “You have to. There’s nothing more we can do here right now. There are other ways to fight this thing.”
I found it pointless to try to understand what they were talking about, and the details of the hostage’s clothing were bothering me, so I returned my attention to them.
Malcolm said, “The clock is ticking. I need a decision. Are any of you going to volunteer, or shall I just take what I need from this one,” pointing the dagger towards the face underneath the sack.
Ron began circling the room away from us, and around the Pyramidion to try to find a better angle to take a shot from. Malcolm turned with the hostage slightly to the side to match Ron’s movements, revealing a little more of their left arm from where I was standing. Their shirt was plain enough, but their watch looked familiar, along with a couple of wristbands. The jeans with holes worn in the knees and the shoes that skateboarding teens wore.
Joseph told Brianne, “Do it. Now!”
A split-second before my vision became blurred, I noticed a golf ball-sized birth mark on the hostage’s forearm, and I instantly knew who the person was.
I didn’t have time to say anything before I saw a flash of light and felt a physical jolt like I had just been hit by a car. I opened my eyes to find myself somewhere else. My eyes welled up as I attempted to look around, but the tears made it too difficult to make out any details about my surroundings. I heard Brianne say, “Is everyone okay?”
As I wiped the tears out of my eyes, I found we were suddenly in a back alley behind a building in broad daylight. I yelled, “No!”
Ron grabbed me by the arm and helped me stand. I said, “Where are we? We need to go back!”
Joseph explained, “I’ve been having Preston Nicholson train Brianne how to translocate. We’re out of danger now. You’re okay.” Joseph didn’t understand.
I said, “He has my son! The kid with the sack on his head is Chris!”
I looked at Brianne and said, “We have to go back!”
Brianne just looked at me and began crying, then said, “I’m sorry. I can’t do it again right away. I need time to recover.”
I asked where we were and she said she put us back at the hotel, but behind the building so it would be less likely someone would see us when we arrived. Ron said, “Are you absolutely certain that was your son?”
I told him I was, and then immediately thought about calling my wife. When I picked up my phone, I had several missed calls and voice messages. The first one was from my wife, and then my son’s school. Then there were several more calls from my wife, then some from Detective Anderson.
My immediate thought was, “We don’t have a car.” Ron had picked me up at my house and everyone else was already in the car. And then we parked it by that house. At that moment, I was feeling such a huge mix of emotions. The shock of realizing Malcolm had my child, imagining what he could be doing to him. Hurting him, or worse yet, was he planning to kill him? Logical thought found no place in my mind.
I overheard Ron calling Anderson and arranging for a police ride to my house. It was only minutes before a police SUV picked us up in front of the hotel. I honestly can’t remember what I had said or done during that time. I just know I had been crying and I wanted to be with my wife. I recall brief moments of the ride over. Ron was in the front seat and Brianne was in the back with me. She had her hand on my shoulder. I still don’t know if words were spoken, but Joseph was no longer with us.
When we pulled up to my house, my wife was standing on our front porch speaking with Detective Anderson. I was an emotional mess. I began crying again as our eyes met when I got out of the car, which caused my vision to be blurred again. She embraced me hard and said, “They can’t find him,” but also let me know how extremely upset she was that she couldn’t reach me. She asked why I wasn’t answering my phone and I recalled the Pyramidion’s effect on my voice recorder and my phone previously. All I could do was apologize and we consoled one another.
I looked over at Anderson who was now standing in my front yard speaking with Brianne and Ron. The look he gave me implied that he was being brought up-to-speed on the events that just took place over the last 30 minutes, which led to at least the appearance of him looking angry and worried… the appropriate response someone should have.
My phone chimed indicating I had another voice message, but I didn’t hear it ring at all. I ignored it for the moment and continued consoling my wife. I watched as Anderson approached the officer in the black and white SUV that brought us there, and then he hurried to his car and left. Anderson left first, tires screeching and engine being pushed to the limit with the other officer close behind. As the SUV sped off, I noticed the driver on the radio. Ron approached us and said, “Can I get a minute of your time?”
I looked at my wife and said, “Go on inside. I’ll be there in a minute.”
She seemed relieved that I was there but it was obvious the series of questioning she just underwent had taken an emotional toll on her. I felt horrible withholding details from her right now, but I knew we had all the help we could ever get with Anderson taking charge of the situation. After my wife was in the house, Ron said, “I gave Anderson the address to that house and he’s on his way there now with backup. It looks like your boy never made it to school this morning. For some reason, it wasn’t until late morning that the school decided to report his absence by getting in touch with your wife. I guess they also tried calling you.”
I just hung my head down and began trying to think of next steps when I felt Ron’s hand on my shoulder, and then momentarily Brianne’s as well. Ron said, “We’ll get him back.”
Brianne said, “I’m not able to transport someone if they’re touching another person without bringing both of them. I didn’t know it was your son.”
I told her it wasn’t her fault, and I didn’t even realize it until it was too late. She said Joseph had convinced her that there were other options to deal with this thing and that the best course of action would be to leave at the time.
Ron reiterated, “We’ll get him back.”
I would have been more surprised at the display of an ounce of emotion and support from him if I hadn’t been so preoccupied with my wandering thoughts traveling down worse-case-scenario roads. As I attempted to stop myself from thinking the worst, I thought about my voice message alert and pulled out my phone.
It was from an unknown number, which by now, I recognized there was a good chance that could be Malcolm. I played it on speaker phone with Ron and Brianne present, and I’ll play that for you now.
MALCOLM:
Hello Jeremy. You really surprised me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed in you and the choices you’re making. I mean, you chose to save yourself over your own flesh and blood like a coward. No matter… I got what I needed. The task is finished. It’s here and thriving, and it can’t wait to meet you in the flesh. You thought The Grinner was a threat… (laughs) Just wait. (laughs maniacally)
SOUND:
Phone disconnects.
About ten minutes later, Ron got a phone call from Anderson. They had cleared out the house. No sign of my son, Chris, of Malcolm, or the Pyramidion. There also wasn’t any evidence of a crime being committed there. The only remaining trace of anything there was a strong magnetic field that seemed to tug on their firearms and badges when they were down in the basement. According to Ron and Anderson, that was a good sign that my son hadn’t been murdered.
I spent the rest of the afternoon deep in thought on my couch. My wife had fallen asleep while she was crying out of worry and was laid across my lap. I was full of rage for a while, then found myself becoming despondent, not really knowing what next steps to take, but fully aware that time was of the essence.
My mind is wandering as I contemplate all sorts of questions. Why did I even start this fucking podcast? How have I become so wrapped up in these events? Would any of this have ever happened if Hydra hadn’t fucked with me as a child? Could I have done anything differently? Where did I go wrong?
I know I have to ground myself and think logically, which I hope I can manage to do over the following couple of days… but not today. I just feel overcome with emotions, regret, and shame, and the desire to feel the full weight of the full blame on myself which doesn’t help me think clearly.
At the end of the day, between spikes of all of those mixed emotions, I’m wrestling with something that has been bothering me since early childhood. I can’t shake the feeling that it’s somehow all wrong… that I just don’t belong here.
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