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hochmvt · 6 months ago

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Welcome back to your favorite horror podcast '𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒'. I'm your host Isaiah, this is episode 152 and I'm so glad you joined me on this beautiful day. I hope you're doing fantastic and ain't suffering from the current heat as much as I do. Recording this in the middle of nowhere – but … what else is new –, today we're following the story of Violet and Hunter, a happily married couple from the midwest. Or … so it seems. After Hunter noticed some changes in his wife's behavior, the couple's true love for one another was tested. What happens if the person you thought you knew in and out starts to act erratic? What if you discover new sides to them you're not only unfamiliar with but also scared by? How well can you know a person, despite being married to them for years? Before we dive into the topic of truly knowing people and the seemingly harmless multifacetedness of "love", as always: thank you for tuning in.

Alright ! Welcome back, welcome back! As I said before, I'm so glad you joined me on this fine day. I saw you guys' posts on Reddit wishing my mom well and I'm glad to say, that your little affirmations worked wonders. She's feeling on top of her game again and was touched by your compassion, so she thinks you aren't just weird internet people anymore – then she thought about signing up for Reddit herself and I kinda talked her out of it. Luckily. That being said, enough of the chit chat and let's get right into it.

I stumbled across Hunter's story approximately two weeks after the first 'incident'. See, I'm not necessarily much into this entire married couple kinda thing (to be honest with you, in the beginning it kinda sounded like they just needed some couple's therapy and I was about to brush it away) but this one eventually felt like something more serious. When I met up with Hunter, this poor fella looked like he hadn't slept for weeks. We were supposed to meet at a Diner closeby to the motel he stayed at. I got there a little late, stood outside, smoking a cigarette and watched the people inside. It was hard to miss him. He sat at the counter, looking like one of those guys at 3AM in any old dive bar, thinking about what to tell their wife when, where and why the 'Only two pints, hun, I promise' - pledge was broken.

To be honest with you, after what he told me, the only medicine that would've worked with Hunter was Jaegermeister – and in that moment I was convinced that I am the funniest person on planet earth – but I didn't make the joke in front of him. Violet was your typical girl next-door ; rather modest, pedantic, however she was kind and thoughtful. Pulling pranks or dicking around wasn't something in her repertoire – contrary to Hunter. Frankly, both of them seemed kinda contradictory from what Hunter had told me. Two weeks prior, Violet had returned from a trip to her sister's place down in Parks, close to the Kansas' border. What Hunter had noticed upon her return in the middle of the night was her frizzy, tangled hair, her tired eyes and terse behavior, but he didn't think much of it. After all, she just arrived from a four hour drive in the middle of the night, so she headed to take a shower before going to bed.

Isaiah's phone rang. In the middle of recording. Who on earth dares to call at 3AM in the morning? All of his friends knew where he was, they usually checked the time zones, if they decided to give him a call (which rarely ever happened, none of them was really fond about talking on the phone). Upon sorting his thoughts, he realized what n̸̡̢͍̯̤̥̞̼̦̭͈͇͇͚̭̠̜͈̘͇̤̯͕̉͗̃́̑̓͑̊́̊͐͆̒̿́̈͌̓̽̚̕̕͜à̷͕̤̳̪̩̪̫̳̺͉̗̈̊̍͐̀̀͑̀͗̿͠ͅm̸̡̡̨̨̛̭͓̦̺̼͉̣̯̲̖͔͖̟̙͈̜̞͔̙̗͈̺̳̼̬̞̞̮̙̥̼̝̄͌͂͌̍͌̾̓̓͑́͋̇̀̂̓̂͛͋̓̈́̂͑̑̍͒͒͂́͛̀̈́̂͑͂̂̉̉͘̕̚̕͘͝͝e̴̡͖̼̦̗̝̪̙̰͖̯̟̲̳̠͇̥̿̈̀̈́͑̏̈̏̀̌̏̊̈́ had popped up on the screen; his heart dropped, his hands felt clammy. C̷̨̛̪͎̩̣̫̮̰͈͛̈́͋̾̔̌͛̿̀̄̕͜͝ͅͅa̵̻̳͔̜͓̠̙̤̖͈̲͋̽̊̅̇́͗̒͑̆͒̇̔̅̑͂̒̆̇̏͐̍͘͜͝͝r̵̨̡̨̧̢̡̧̛̗̭̤̗͖̝͕͈̠͚̹͓̫͔͚̫̫͈̱̦̦̱͇͙̖͎̬̘̬̪̫̣̪͉͈̹̮͓̟̅̑̅̓̓̽̄̃͂̎̀̆̐̒̐̍̈́̏͒̐͌̂̾̚̚͜͜͝͝ṱ̷͔̰̮͉̭̳͙̣̫̥͉̻̝̠͈̭̼̦̩̯̰͙̩͎̳̱̺̞̖̺̬̹̃͜ͅę̸̨̻͙̯̦̲͕̟͎̰̬̼̝̪͙̫͉̗̜͔̞̳̻̪͕̳͔̗͎̤͕̖̙̬̮̼̳̗̺͋̏̃̓̍̆̃̇̎͝͝ͅͅr̸̨̹̩̮̤̙̗͎͕̬͛̉͗̓͊͊̅̆̈́͂͌͛̄̓̐̍̋̚̕̚͠. He hasn't called in ages.

They were teenagers back then, Isaiah had no idea how to approach him, a̶̛̛̟̯̼̩̟̣͎̺͇̼̼̥̳̮͓̐̓̓̑̽͊͗͑̇̂̾͗͐͑͋̀͗̾̋͊̓͊̀̆̾̓͛́̈́̽͒̇͐̂͐̌̇͘͘̕͘͘̕̚͝͠f̸̳̠̩͈̣̗̜̹̘͔̣͖͔͓̟̠̝̖̦͙̖̤̫̖͍͉͖̓̌̐ͅţ̶̡̰̤̗͎̪̘̦̪͈̦̝̮̙̩̤͚͍̥̟̜͍͓͍͇͔̜̝͕͖̳̎͆̿̌͒́̂͊̽̂͒̉͂̐̽̓̋̽̚͜͝͠e̷̡͍͚̞̣͍̯̼͈͕̥͈̭̯̪͈͙͔̤̬͌̈́̀͑̐̃̆͒̃̂͌̈́̀̍̐̈́̈́͂̃̐̍̎̓̂̔̎͒̆̒͌́͗͛̏͛̈́͂̃̀͊̏̊͂̚͝͝͝͝͝r̵̨̧̙̻̳͕͎̻͇͚̦͓͓̭̦̰͎͇͉͚͎̜̓́͐͑͛͗̿̎͊͂̄̆͋͑͊̆̔̽́̃̆̓̂͊̿̂̅̎͂̌̏̒̐̍́͐͌̎̈́́̋́́̂̚̕̚͝͝͠ͅ ̴̢̧͇͖̪͎͎̾̑̀̎̑́̿̆̆͛͐́̋̈́̃͂́̀̈́̑̅̍͒̍̀͋̓̓̽͘̚͝͠w̸̡̖̟̲̯̩̋̈́̈́̉́̏̓̅̎̿̀̇͐̓̽̀̀́͑̀͆̎̓͗̍͛̋́̓̑̐͛͘ḩ̵̧̧̡̢̛͖̝͓̞̻̩̺̺͍̯͓̥̻͉̭̪͇̝̥̖̦͍̠̤̫͇͓͉̜͚̙͔̪̱̰̘̘̉̐̀̐̐͗̾̽̑̎̓́̔̇̑́̽̋̊̈̔̀́͊͌̓͘̕͘͘͠a̵̧̡̨̡̧̛̛̛̺̳̙͚̖̜͎͖̗̗̭͔̝̗̺̪͓̠̖̬͍̺͚̖̻̬͙̩̖̭̫͈̞̫̯̗̙͙̲̯̫̥̯̒̌̋͛̄͊̈̄̓͒̂̐͗̋̃͂͊́͐̈́́̎̈̀̒̽̐͛̏̐̌́̈́͂̊͂̇̾́̊̋͗̕͜͠ͅt̴̡̛͉̙͎̹̘̭̙͕̝̠̖̮̤̬̭̯̺̻̞̣̻̤̱̟͇̩̮͈̦̩͇̹̞̜̜̤͇͎͙͓̠̋̌̏̓̽͛͋̆̏̏̉̓͌̍̀̈́͆͘͜͜͜͝ ̷̨̡̢̛̛̟͚̳̝͍̞̬̖͙̳̯̼̯͔͙͙̩̻̤͍͕͉̠͍̠̣̞̤̺̘̞̪̦͍̯̻̗̮̤̮̗͉̣̊̈́̈́͒͊̔̈́͆̓̑̏̿̆̄̂̿͒̒̌́̏͌͛̒̆́̕̚͜͝ͅͅh̵̡̩̦͔̣̅̐̐̀̊̀̃̊́̅͗̂̂̍͂̓́͑̒̑̎̎̓̑̋a̸̧̢̡̤͔̣̰̲̣̳͚̟͇̜͚̯͂̽̏̌̀̀̉̅̏̀̉͌̎́̋͐̑̿͒̄̑͗͐̊͊̓̽͘͜͝͠ͅͅḑ̸̢̡̞̖̳̳͉͎̱̣͚͙͇̣̤͔̦̼͉̤̹̙̆̈̎͗̀́́̂̍̄͐̃̈́̓̊̂̀̏͆͗̋͠͝ ̴͓̞̬̗͓̳̼̖̠͎̭̖͕͚͍̼̘̤̞̥̏̈́̄̑͐͒̆̏͊̌͌͜ẖ̷̛͎̌̆̋̾̃̍̍͂́̃͌͒̒̊̄̿̆͗̏̇̃͌͒̿̃͂̄́̎̆͐̎̍̍͛͘͘͠͝a̴̢̨̨̧̡̡̧̛̛͇̟̲͎͎͚̣̤̫͈͍͓̠̲̲͙̱̩͙̲̮͈̯̫̹͙̝͇̬͚͇̩̮͙̖͍̥̦̣͌̄̐̋͐͗̃̃́̈̀̽͒̈́̀̅̍͆̉͌͊́̽̓̕̕̚͘͝͝͝͠ͅp̶̧̥͈͓̠̹̲͍͉̜̟͉̱̯͍͉̙͎̩̽͒ͅ��̝̟̳͇͍̖̪͜p̵̡̨̧̡̡̛̲̘̙̙̤̺̭̖̫̜͔̠͉̤͓̼͕̬̲̘̝̣͓̘̱̺̮̱̰̼̻͇̣̪͎̞̮̱͙͔̫͒̈́̔̋̐̓̏̔̃̃̾͌̀̋̋́̍̾́̊͛̒̈́̒̽́͌̔́̃̔̅̉̒̚͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͠͝ę̸̢̳̰̱̤͚̙̬̱̖̤̣̲̰͍̥̮̙̌͆̅̔̾̓̑̓̔̈́́͑̊͂̌͊̓̍͗́̎̀̈́͗̒̓͗̀̀̚͘͠͝ń̶̢̛̛͕̖̰͉̗̙̩̣͚͎͔̺̔̾̎̽̂̊̄̉̅͗͐̈́̀̊̉͘͝͝ȇ̷̢̢̡̡̬̲̗̺̻̼̮̹̯̟̻͈̠̥̥̫̖͙̖͉̠̼̘̝̹̙̳͖͍̝̫̝̝̮̱̙͈̱̰͔̪̲̓̽̕͘͜͝ͅd̸͓̥̭̥́͊̀͋̏̈̒̅̀̀́͋͗̈̍͆̐̒̂̒́̀́̂͌̍̌́̍̔͋̔̔̈́́͐͌̓̚̕͝. It felt weird talking to him – seeing him again after all these years. As if his face had changed throughout the years, but instead of the nature of the natural human process of aging, it felt– ơ̶̢͙̙͕͍̹͌͗͋͐̀̎͑̀͋̓̌̎̀̌̅̃̒͋͆̾̃̅̾̇͆͐̉̑̔̇̓̉͘͝͝͠͠͝͝t̴̨̛̘̮̦̫̮͉̙̪͕͎̟̆̒̃͑̓͐̌̑̏̆̆͌̅͊͑̿̇̎̎͘͘͜h̸̗̜̱͌̄͗̍̑̀̍̒e̴̛̱̣̳̰̭̟̱͙͔̼͕̭͖̠̣̣̙̙̘̰͈̗̮͈̲̹͖͔̻̣̪͖͆͆͋̓͑͂́̀͗̂̐̄̄̓͝͝ŗ̶̡̨̧̡̧̡̡̧̨͇̟̩̭̯̞̜͇͎̜̫̯̘͇̝͚͚̻̗͓̯̙̟͇̭̝͈̘̦̭̮̘̽͗͊͐͂̋͗̓̐̃̆̀̔̄͛̆͛̽͂̒͆̀̏̏͒͌̌̋̉͊̉͛͐̊́̈͂̀̎̈́̿̿̏̑͘̚̕͘͜͜w̵̡̧͈̼͇̘̭̪̱̻̼̭͙̠͉͙̥̩̳̭͈̼͆̈͂̍͂̉́͑̕͜͜ͅǫ̷̨̨̩̺̼̮̩̗͈̳̘͔̞͈̗̺̩̦̩͙̫̦̮̤̠̞̗͔̞̥̳̠͎͚͈̯̦͎̭̞̠̭̿͌̏̿͋͗̈́̒̓̏͆͋̉̇̉̆͊́̌̌̒̏͐̇̇̍̀̌̐͌̿́̃̅̚͘͘̕͜͜͜͠͠͝͠͝͠͝ͅŗ̸̨̡̧̛̼̰͔͉̻͖̗̞͎͙͓̙̞̦͙̻̰̳͔̱͈͌̎̈́̈̽̐̔͂͛͋͛̍͛̐́͛̋̄͊͂̑̃̓̋̍̇̏̈́͋̾̔̀̽̋̉̏͆̇͋̈̉͑̏̉͜͝͠ͅl̷̢̧̢̧̢̛̛̫̼͙͚̬̖̭̞̖̲̠̱͇̙̺̜͇̳̟̯͓̩͔̩͒̓̀̾̅͊̏͗̆̃̃͐̋̔͛͌̈̉̈͒͐̎̔̃̿̃̾̇̎̅͒͋̐̏̄̕̕̕͜͜͠͠͝d̷̢̨̛̛̛͍͚̣̮̻̹͕̫͕̻̥͔̯̰͚̞̳̙͈̟͎͔̞̜̻̙̳̜̗̠̬̲͎̖̝̭͍̠̑̿́͊͐̈́͆̇͌̂͆̓̋̿̈́̐͛́͐̿̒́̐̕̕͘̕͜͜͠͝͝ļ̶̨̢̡̛̬͎̗͚̥͍̞͔̦̰̘̱̼̞̰̣̪͔͈͚͌̊̾̐̽̓͛̇̅̇͊̆́̃͛̄̂́̾̓̆͂͊̉̎̃͘̚͝y̴̨̢̡̗͉̭͔̳͎̜̩͓̱͉̬̱̬̗̗̮̬̥͕͕̺̹̻͇͒͗̔͗̀̃̓̅̀̀͗͆͑͗. Fuck, he sighed, his gaze fixed on the screen. He shifted his weight slightly, fingers tapping on the back of his phone. He felt uneasy, jumpy even; probably due to the lack of sleep from the night before. Isaiah rejected the call and decided to text him instead: 'Gonna call you back asap. Currently working.'

Two days later, after coming back from a long night of meeting up with his colleagues, having drinks, talking about manly things such as sports, monstertrucks and tits, Hunter was slightly drunk. Thus he had the same sensation all of us have, when we had one or fourteen drinks too many: He was hungry and in desperate need for something good. Eating in the kitchen, minding his business, he let his gaze wander until his eyes focused, locking upon familiar features at the end of the hallway. Violet was peeking at him from around the corner, only her eyes visible, wide open, almost unnatural looking, the rest of her body hidden behind the wall. Upon trying to focus and rubbing his eyes, she was gone. All he heard were fast footsteps stealing away from the hallway. It didn't sound like someone was running though, more like an animal fleeing from the intruder of their natural habitat. However, we know the more our vision declines, the more frequently hallucinations occur. And I told you about how scientists were able to demonstrate that these hallucinations originate in the same brain regions where actual perceptions are processed – and not in the areas where images that arise from our imagination are created. This explains why so many people believe their hallucinations to be real – and yet, Hunter thought he was drunk and his mind played tricks on him. Speaking of your mind's playing tricks on you: Do those hear strange noises at night sometimes that keep you awake? Not the voices in your head, but your neighbors having the time of their lives, the police out and about on duty or the 826th party down the road?

When nighttime brings unsettling sounds that make your heart race, the new earplugs from HUSH are your answer. Constructed with high-density memory foam, they effectively block out the eerie noises, letting you rest easy and help you fight your sleep paralysis demons easily. Ideal for those who are sensitive to sound, you'll find yourself sleeping through the night all safe and sound. Visit hush.com and use the promo code 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 for 15% off your first purchase. Thank you HUSH for sponsoring this episode and thank you for the countless nights you helped me sleep through.

Violet seemed off after that. She rarely spoke, sometimes it felt like she stared right through her husband. On other days, he caught her just staring at him. Smiling. As if she was daydreaming about something. Her smile felt uncanny, he told me, you know, like these AI generated pictures or– robots even! Upon asking her if she was alright, she always nodded her head and continued the things she was working on. There were nights Hunter laid awake at night, Violet missing from her side of the bed. Whereas to me that sounds like an open invitation to sleep in my favorite position of them all – the spread eagle – things wouldn't be half as unsettling if it wasn't for the noises. Again, fast footsteps, too fast for anything humanoid.

So we waited. I told Hunter it was fine with me if he caught up on some sleep and I'd keep vigil, to convince myself what was going on. I mean, if she was truly visiting him every night, indifferent to where he was staying, why should she stop now? The first two hours were rather uneventful. My trusty Switch was keeping me company, I had insanely good runs playing 'The Binding Of Isaac' – until I heard a noise. It sounded like a knock but– I mean, Hunter never told me that Violet seemed like the girl to knock per se. If she truly lost her mind and was out for– revenge? A night of fun? Why on earth would she knock? I checked the door, stood outside for a while, shining my flashlight into the very far corners of the property, gaze wandering from the vending machine, to every car in the lot, even to the adjacent rooms. Nothing. There was no one there.

Heading back inside, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Hunter had told me Violet had watched him sleep from time to time, standing outside the window, her breath on the window, but even as I checked, still, no one's there. Getting back into the game and my trusty Switch, minutes passed until–

Cutting the recording a second time, he listened more attentively to his surroundings. There was a rustle, but wasn't there something else? Was that a whisper? His phone buzzed again, recieving an answer from the same person who tried to call him earlier. Ǐ̷̧̢̧͍̺͔̪̭͎̳̥͚̳̥̬͎͕̹̝̺̮̟̈̅̽͆͗̂̉̋̓̃́'̶̨̡̡̧̧̨̧̢̞͙̖̤̙̤̱̗̣̙͖̘͍͖͔̹̬̯̤̻͇͈͉̖̻̞̩͉͖̗̮̬͖̭͈̦̙̳̘̯̈́̀͆̀̐̉̓̅̓̅̓̔̄̈́͊͋͘̚ͅͅv̷̼͈̥̯̜͕͆̔̄̇͑̚e̷̢̡̩͖̣͇̯̮͎͖̼̲̤̯̜̠͓͕̝̤̬̜̤̥̺͎̗͙̮͈̅̉̈̔͆̏̔̃̍͛͑͆͌̌̇̌̃̿͌̋̓̊̓͊̋͒͋̋͑̾̑͐́̒̿̍͆͘͠͝ ̶̫̝̯̜̫̙̐̀f̸̨̨̨̢̨̳̟̖̻̙̖͓͍͕͓̣͔̞̩͉͔̫͎̭̼̜͇͎͙͇̳̤̝̩̻̝̩͖̜̖̯̩̩͆̏̍̀̀̑̅̀̌̋̉͛̄̈̀̃͗̐̈̌͋͒͐̅̀̒̕͘͝ͅǫ̶̢̢̡̧̛̛̫̞̞̖̯͇͚̭̮͖̈́͐̈́̊̏͆̈̋̃͐̎͛̏͌͆̆̀̇͌͛̐̌͋̉͑̿́̈́̚͘̚̚͘̕͝͠͝͠ͅu̷̧̧͙͚͚̟̞̜͖̲̦͈̠̘̥̳̠̜̻̮̙̳͊̾̔͆̾͌̄͗́̆͆͆̀͐͋̃͌͛̑͗̉͒͐̊͗̎͐̎̃̈́̔͐̌̄̽̃̂͒̾̐͑́̈́͘͘͜͠͠͠ņ̴̨̢̝̗̹͖̗̳̪̙̳̱̳̠̥̯̖͍͕̘̥̝̫̤̲̣̠̺̤́̈́̀̚͝͠d̷̢̨̡̨̘̜͉̙̖́͛̍̿̍̆̓̂̏̋͗̀̈́̈́̽̉̍̄͗̾͑͊̽̿́̒̔̋͑̀͐͆͒̌̋͐́̎̃̀̿̓̕̕͘͘̚͝͝ͅͅ ̸̧̢̣̝̞͕̪̫̤̯̣͕̯̖̹̩̬̥̪͉̮̺͇̥͓̼̼̙̫̠̌ͅͅͅͅÿ̷̛̪͍̾̎̋̇̎̆̂̿̔̈̍̐̉͛̂͆̽̈̒̈́͗̅̋́͊̈̄̐̚ö̴̞́̋̊̊̃̔̇̀͑̈́͋̏̔̾̓̀͐̃͛̄̾̏̾̉̉͋̊̒͂̈̽͛͋̑̕͘̕̕̕͝u̶̧̢̠̦̝̙̖̦̺͍̲̱͍̥̘̺̥͓̫̮̗͐͊̊͒̅̆̽̆̆̽́̋̇́̾͌̓̅̿́̉͒̉̽̎̉́̊͘͘̚͘͠.̵̛̛̛̭͓̂̍̿̅̽͊̎̿̍̈̅̑̀͋̐͆̇̇̅̇̋̂͊̀́̈͂̾̊͌̈́͆̅̄̍̔̕̚̚̕̚͝͠͝ ̸̢̧̨̧̯̠̖̯̟̳̳̩̪̦̮̲͕͉͕́͛̅̎̓͂̈̓̓̑͆̔̃̓́́͝ͅͅ:̸̧̢̡̢͍̠̹̳̗̣̱̳̻͎̩̪̫͎͕͇̭̱̥͍͚̦̞̯̩̭͓̠͙̉͐̍̋̽̒͐)̶̢̬̦͔̼͉̹̪̮̖̜̣̱̩̜̠̮̖̤͉̤̠͚̘̻̳͚̪͙̬͎̰͍͔̯̦̳̿̈͋͂̏̎̈́̾͑̈̓̏̓̓̋̀́̔͘͜͜͠͠ͅ

I heard a noise. Like an animal pacing, but it sounded uncomfortably close. There was nothing outside, I checked the room Hunter was sleeping in but there was nothing. When I turned around, I saw a set of widened eyes, peeking at me from the bottom of the doorframe from the hallway. The light was reflecting in her– its eyes, like a predator lurking in the shadows, ready to hunts its prey. A long strand of dark hair was falling across her forehead, she moved her head slightly, tilted it. As if she was irritated, yet amused by the sight of me. I mean, I've seen my fair share of weird shit and read a lot about the 'power of imagination', but I assure you: This ain't fucking it. Violet's head started to rise, she seemed to get up as I stood there frozen in the doorframe across the hallway. Her hair was moving with her. It took me some time to realize that she wasn't necessarily getting up, but instead she seemed to crawl on the wall, finally positioning herself at the upper edge of the doorframe. Her hair was now dangling, pointing towards the floor, her face more visible. That was the moment I realized what Hunter had meant with the uncanny smile. Violet's features seemed off, it reminded me of Alternates, her smile seemed forced, too wide, all of her teeth were showing. Her eyes wide, reflective, like a deer in headlights. Until she vanished.

Again: Fast footsteps. Then silence.

Hunter woke up from the noise. He asked me if I was alright, standing in the doorframe, too stunned to move. Frozen. That's when I saw her again, unblinking, reflective eyes and grinning wide. She saw him, knew he was there and that's all she needed to know. All she needed to see. He was her prey, I was an irrelevant obstacle and no greater threat. She was peeking at the both of us, focusing Hunter, scuttling slowly towards us on all fours, leaving her cranny from behind the kitchen counter. Her movement seemed otherwoldly, bending her joints and body parts inhumanly, putting her legs in front of her arms when she moved. Both of us must've thought that her smile couldn't get any wider, but we were mistaken. This was her definition of fun. And trust me when I say that it wasn't mine. Violet stopped again, tilting her head to the side.

Again: Fast footsteps as she approached us, grinning even wider. Until we shut the door. As we both pressed against it, all we could feel, in between fast breaths and paralyzed by fear, was the intense, loud banging against the door. Relentlessly hammering against the wood, trying to force her way in, we kept the door shut with all we had. For twenty-seven minutes. Again, fast footsteps. ⸻ Then silence.

©redits⸻ heavily inspired by this story (please read it, it's fantastic!) and ofc the final scenes of the masterpiece that is ari aster's »hereditary«)

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