Dreams Beneath The Witch Tree | CreepCast

33:03And you're just like, Oh, it's going to be really cool. And I see it as a video. All right. All right. Let's see. The YouTube thing does cover up a lot of the like weird you need to become a serial killer. Is what I'm trying to tell you. Yeah. There's a lot of situations I'll be in them. Like this is kind of odd, but then you say you're a YouTuber. They're like, oh, well, I was making a YouTube video. They're like, oh, how fun. I was, I was breaking and entering this abandoned property for a video. It's like, oh, it's not a felony then. You're fine. Yeah. Oh, what's that? You found this cool thing in there that someone definitely owns this property and you stole it.

33:39It's for a video. It's a video. Of course not. Come on. It's a video.

33:47Money laundering? Drug possession? It's a video Guys Steven had always been this way No doubt in his next letter he would be talking Just as enthusiastically about a completely different topic With witchcraft far from his mind I wrote a meager reply that night Nothing terribly fancy Just a passive interest in what he had mentioned And also a little update on how my own studies were progressing I responded to his invitation to join him at Barton Parish And said that it would be a pleasure to spend some time with him After my first year was finished, I was able to come home for Christmas. My delight, my mother invited Stephen to our home for lunch.

34:26Christmas itself is a busy time for the ordained, but I was grateful for the snatches of conversation we managed to have. To my surprise, Stephen had not dropped his inquiries into his ancestor and the various Cheshire witch trials, both legal and illegal, that had occurred in the county. In fact, he would speak of little else during my short stay with him. He was particularly excited because he believed he had finally located where Francis Ellis Pendle had been laid to rest He described to me in great detail over Brandy That at the very back of the cemetery Close to where the Gunner's Cloth Woodland starts to encroach upon the hollowed ground There can be found a small copse of Witch Elm trees So called because witches were once hanged from them It was his belief that Francis had been interred in the ground beneath one of these trees A precaution levied against him As the old folk believed that the roots of a tree Would pin the witch's body and soul in place Denying either the power to rise from their grave And avenge themselves upon the living Metal The next morning, he took me out to see the cops Where he suspected the final resting place of his witch ancestor lay Even in the daytime, it was a dark and blasted place The trees looked more dead than alive With twisting dry branches that groaned like the creaking of a floorboard as the wind lightly danced around them.

35:48Here, somewhere beneath the dark ground, Stephen was convinced that the body of Francis lay. I cannot say with conviction that even then I was worried about him. I had convinced myself that his interest was purely historical. He was nothing more than an enthusiastic amateur. In hindsight, however, the warning signs were undoubtedly present. I would come and visit Barton sporadically during my second and third years at college. I think I was subconsciously outgrowing the place But in the best possible way I was shaping into the man I always wanted to be And I felt renewed by my growing independence From both Stephen and my mother It was during the last part of my ordination My final year That I first heard the growing rumors Regarding Stephen and his radical change in behavior The source of such gossip Came from none other than my mother There was a certain sense of satisfaction In her tone upon informing me of the various distasteful exploits that Stephen was being accused of.

36:47He was now apparently drinking heavily and had been spotted meeting with certain unsavory types after dark. Strange visitors had been seen in the cemetery, always at night. He was, she said. He was, she said, keeping company with odd strangers who spoke in foreign tongues and who wore bizarre clothing. Loud, violent behaviors in the middle of the night was becoming a regular occurrence for his neighbors, as voices were heard emanating from the church house at all hours. That's really funny to imagine that it's like, yeah, he's talking to some weird foreigners, I think. And it's like a demon in a cloak that's like, they're like, I think that guy is from Italy.

37:31I'm pretty sure. No one gets scared, but I'm pretty sure it's a Chinese guy. I think that guy over there might be, I'm not sure. that he could be Portuguese. I don't want to freak anybody out, but I think that's a Chinese guy over there. I've never met someone from Portugal, but I'm almost positive that would be what that would look like. Father Stephen, would you come over here, please? Actually, never mind. We don't go down this road. No, no. We don't go down this road. I think you keep going the road you're going down. I know. I thought you were setting up a really good classic wholesome creep cast bit.

38:13If you noticed, I tried to keep the nationality vague and keep switching it up. Like, Oh, Italian Portugal. These are fun. You really logged in on that Chinese thing there for a second. So why don't you go ahead and let that one play out? No, no, no, no, no. We're having fun. We're having fun. No reason to get anyone in trouble now. Not have a good time. but also like there was noise coming all hours of the night like there's loud incantations and it's like those you know steven's always been a real wild one i was having his parties having his party getting drunk on brandy and having gay sex with the chinese guys that sounds like i know see there you go you brought him back in it's gonna be hard to take him out right now

39:01he's there we tried to ask him to leave he won't yeah exactly well now not crap favorite. I think Steven's shot. I mean, he's got himself in a literal Chinese finger trap now, so he's got to watch out. He's got to push and twist. You know what I'm saying? He's in a Chinese finger trap with the Chinese guy. Yeah. Well, no, okay. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. I heard the way you giggled when you said, well, I know I opened the door on that one. I'm shutting the door back. I didn't walk into the room. The door is shut. We're done. I don't need to see what's going on there. We're good. We're just going to keep moving there was even talk that several pets had gone missing in the village in particular missus no there ain't no way that is a polish name or something and that is that is messed up it's about it's about it's about it's the dibo is the dibo is the dibo is the dibo in particular Mrs.

39:57Zedibowicz's tabby cat, Cleo, and old man Slater's greyhound, Basil. The latter was known to roam freely around the village and was almost always in constant trouble, tipping over rubbish bins and chasing Jack Duncalf's chickens. Some people assumed that the dog had either run off or been hit by a car, but a fair number attributed a more ominous reason behind the dog's sudden vanishing. The cat, however, was rarely seen outside of the Zedibowicz's home. Many assumed that the eldest son, Ian, was the culprit The boy had always had a cruel streak And was disliked by almost everyone in the village Including his own mother But when the decayed headless body of a cat And the severed head of a greyhound Were found casually discarded in the gunner's cloth By some local children The day after Walpurgus Many began to suspect that Stephen's sinister new acquaintances Were responsible The most disturbing revelation, however was that Stephen's face appeared to have taken on a rather unusual countenance, a kind of sardonic smirk that greatly unearthed those who saw it.

41:04By all rights, the expression was wholly alien to the man, and when seen, it appeared to twist his face to such an extent that he looked like a stranger. The Bishop of the Chester Diocese had issued him with a formal warning about his behavior, the outcome of which I would soon learn of. At the time, I found all of this impossible to believe. The evils being attributed to my friend were nothing more than village gossip, I believed, and the usual Barton superstitions, something for the old codgers to grumble over while steep in their cups, and I refused to accept the rumor or take the matter seriously.

41:41Soon enough, however, I too became embroiled in the abnormal changes in Stephen's life. Again, there was a period of time where I didn't receive regular correspondence from Stephen. In fact, these periods had grown more frequent. but I admit that I was beginning to grow worried as the rumors regarding his behavior churned over in my mind and the large gulf between his letters was growing even wider as time passed. I hadn't received a letter back from him for a very long time, perhaps four months but when I finally did it was far more disturbing than anything I had ever read from him and it filled me with an urgent need to see my friend and assist him however I could.

42:21It arrived for me unexpected much like the previous one I have described. And despite looking like a letter from Stephen, it was so hastily scrawled that for a few seconds, I thought it was written by a stranger. Benjamin, I'm afraid to tell you this, but I fear I have led myself down a dark and winding path. So far have I descended into darkness, and so deeply have I gazed at the blackness that I wonder if I will ever be able to find my way back to the Lord's light. My meddling in the past affairs of the parish and my own family history have brought me nothing but misery. I am doomed. It's the dreams, Ben.

43:02The hideous dreams. I dream constantly, so much that I no longer tell what is real and what is fantasy. I dream often of a cold, godless place, devoid of warmth and comfort. Above me, I see twisting black roots warming their way slowly towards me like serpents. Try as I might, I cannot move my arms and legs, for my body is confined to a casket. A buried, rotting, maggot-infested casket. When I finally awake, the clock by my bedside always displays the same time. 3 a.m., the witching hour. By the time you read this, I may not be at the parish. I must leave this place, leave Barton, and never return.

43:48I have some dire matters to attend to. Most importantly, I must return to that which I have called. He has his own black designs, and I must ensure that they never come to fruition. In my more lucid moments, I am formulating a plan, but I must be prudent, lest he specks me of acting. I must be decisive and deliberate in my actions and conceal all evidence from him before the sun sets and his time begins. He has his means. That is beyond doubt. But I also have mine. I know of certain antique formulas and signs that can ward off his spirit, potent as it may be. Once I am sure that this evil is returned to the cold ground, his remains must be destroyed.

44:34Fire is no good. It will leave too much attacked. It must be something stronger. Something that will obliterate him until there is nothing left. I will then take my leave. I have already spoken with the bishop, and we both agree that you are ready to take my place, Ben. May you be a better guide to the people of this parish than I. Ben, if I fail in my endeavors, I can offer you only this warning. Fear that which lurks beneath the witch tree. Do not invite it in, for it will make itself a home within you, and through your work its black magic, who will invoke those who lurk at the threshold, those unnamed blasphemies from the great outside.

45:16And then, my friend, we are all ruined. God bless you. That is the average text from Hunter at three in the morning. That is just what I do. Isaiah, I think I'm having a heart attack. The pizza rolls and whiskey have finally caught up with me, and the Grim Reaper is by my nightstand. He chuckles and does fortnight dances at me. I fear this would be the last.

45:46Rose and whiskey is such a depressing meal. He keeps telling me of a Chinese man that's haunting my dreams. I mean this in the best way. You and Allison are a lovely couple, and I think you guys are never going to break up, but I mean this with full sincerity. you have all the makings of a divorced father thank you

46:15in the best way like like the humor the jokes the whiskey and pizza rolls dinner it's like built into you also does that mean was that too far no that's that's fine i think it's true it is built in me i consume it and then it builds itself like little legos uh uh so in this letter he's having visions now that he's the body beneath the witch elm which is his ancestor and he is determined to destroy it somehow it says that it's now time for benjamin to take his place is it the witch or do you think it's the uh the man he was looking for Well, he, uh, Francis Petal was a witch Oh, okay, okay, okay Yeah To say that this letter disturbed me greatly would be a gross understatement I had never known my friend to be so worried or panicked over anything in his life And yet here he was, telling me that his very soul was in jeopardy I spoke with my superiors at the college, but I did not show them the note Stephen had sent me I feared that should anyone else read the note, they would question his sanity and that might put into motion a whole course of events regrettable to the man's already afraid reputation.

47:31No, best I speak to him first and get to the root of the issue. Haha, root. I get it, because he's under a tree.

47:41A few days later, I was on a train and bound home for Barton. I disembarked at the nearby East Witch of Station and caught a rickety old bus into the village, arriving around midday and hastily made my way in the direction of the parish church. Several locals recognized me And I had to pause momentarily for a few quick exchanges Before resuming my journey I did my best not to look panicked And to keep my gate to an acceptable stride As I gave each passerby my time But deep inside I was overcome with a crippling dread That only increased as I neared my destination When at last I arrived at the church gates I found them closed but not barred Pushing their heavy iron frame inwards I walked past a small stone fountain which was bone dry and not flowing with the gentle trickling sound that usually welcomed visitors.

48:30The surrounding benches that crowned the fountain were empty, as was the entire churchyard and cemetery. I couldn't help but notice the serene yet disturbing quiet of the places I headed straight for the church doors, which were worryingly locked. I looked around puzzled. Stephen should have been inside and getting ready for the evening service. I picked up my bags and made my way around the church and towards the small residence at the back where Stephen lived. The front door, like that of the church, was locked. Curtains were open, and I peeked inside but could see no signs of life. I then did a quick tour of the perimeter, knocking and calling on every door and window before returning to the front.

49:11I assured myself that there must be a perfectly mundane excuse for him not being present at the church, and muse that maybe he was out picking up provisions from Littler's store on Townfield Lane. The relief of such a normal explanation was abruptly shattered, however, by the gruff and familiar voice of a man barking out to me in the direction of the cemetery Viker's gone, Ben, and I don't suppose he's coming back anytime soon I cocked my head in the direction of the voice and called out My words feebly battling the expanding gust of wind that were coalescing piles of brown autumn leaves Causing them to dance around the dry, gray fountain behind me Is that you, Ted?

49:54I called out, already knowing the answer to my question To meet my reply, a tall and wiry frame of old Ted quilt slowly emerged from behind a large headstone He had a small shovel in one hand and was no doubt tending to the earth around the cemetery Just as he had for as long as I could recall Despite the autumn chill, he wiped sweat from his brow and waved at me before picking up his tools As he made his way towards me, his long white hair and beard billowing in the wind I cannot banish the thoughts of the old pagan gods from my mind. With his towering hide and wizened, but friendly old face, he reminded me of Woden, chieftain of the gods and the leader of the dreaded wild hunt from the old Saxon legends.

50:37Sorry Ben didn't scare you, did I? I heard you come in. Well, I heard the gate clang. Figured I'd let you look around before speaking up. No, it's quite alright, Ted. What did you mean just now? that Stephen was gone and wouldn't be coming back. Best if you come inside, boy. The vicar left me some instructions for you and the keys to his house. Come on, I'll make us some tea. He rested one of his giant hands on my shoulder. I won't lie to you, Ben. I've got some queer things to tell you. I keep having gay sex with... I knew as soon as you said that word. I knew you were going to say something.

51:18I thought to myself, I better read the next line before he does something. I've got some queer things to tell you. You're horrible. I've got some queer things to tell you. I can make a man come in probably a minute and a half. No, gross, gross, gross. This is a good story, Quint. You ever see that Nicolas Cage movie, Gone in 60 Seconds? That's about me. Oh, Quint. No, this is miserable. I had my period last week. I'm trapped in his podcast. Ted, what are you talking about? I had my period last week, Ben.

51:55Ted, I don't think that makes much sense. I thought I was pregnant, but luckily I got my period. I got a lot of things I got to tell you. Some weird witchcraft going on in the cemetery, Ben. I keep getting my period. It's not monthly, it's weekly.

52:21I keep sucking male ghost dick. No, no, no, no, no. The ghost of men are very happy in the cemetery for me, Ted. You got to quit. The number of people I see get mad. They're like, Isaiah is such a prude. Why would Isaiah let Hunter tell jokes? If I just let him tell these things, the show would get wiped. I suck their souls clean, Ben. See, it's like that. There's gotta be some pushback to it somewhere. I've gotta be, I'll have people at church ask about this show and I'm like, I don't really want creep cast. What is that? The original Ghostbusters just Ted sucking ghost cock in the cemetery. No, no, it's not, it's not what it is.

53:03It's not what it is at all. It was funnier when it was the Chinese guy, but it was just less detailed.

53:15you're gonna go to the afterlife with a smile on your face the story is getting good

53:27did you at least laugh when i got my period because i i thought that was fun i'm not telling you you're gonna have to watch the recording back to everyone who gets mad at me for quote unquote being a prude. This is what I'm holding off. There's a, I am, I am the little Dutch boy with his finger in the dam, keeping the entire village from being flooded. Okay. And everyone's like, Oh, why is the Dutch boy standing next to that dam? Because the Dutch boy knows what it takes to save the town. Ben, you can, you can just take a finger in it if you want.

54:08put a finger in it, Ben. The classic Ted quote, put a finger in a bin.

54:17You're so gross. Your pinky's a wine cork. Okay. All right. Just one pinky band, please. It's just, you go, you go. There's not just like a joke. You're just in all the nitty gritty. I can see everything You're describing it's way too Right down to the knuckle No no no No no no That's a good story Big old knuckles on you Like a half dollar right there on your hand Ted can you just Take me back to Stephen's house Oh yeah sure Ted didn't Say any of this Ted was the nice old man who works in the garden I love how autistic that is Hey guys, Ted didn't say any of this. Okay. Alright, so just real quick.

55:08Ted didn't actually say that stuff. So don't even worry about that. Don't give me that voice. This is not canon. Don't give me that voice. Don't give me that voice. If it's not canon that Ted is a second ghost cock and getting fingered in the graveyard, then I don't want any part of it. I'm going to keep reading. My asshole looks like a used catcher's glove, man. that's the last one and that's actually the last one because that's disgusting and for you and for you to and for you to honestly for you to let that happen i think that's gross for me to let that happen for me to let you talk i did everything in my power to keep you from talking and it was completely ineffective you just wait for me to get tired out and then you say it anyway everyone who talks about me holding back and being a prude or whatever what am i holding back.

55:57He just says it. It doesn't do anything. Him hiding behind the headstone now is a lot more devious, isn't it? What are you doing back there, Ted? I'm reading. No, I'm reading. Don't come back here, Ben. You said that would be the last thing you said. You don't want to see this back here, Ben. No, you said. You gave me your word. And it was over. It's all you hear in the darkness in the cemetery. Hey!

56:23Get out of here, Ben. You don't want to see this. All right, come take a look. Do you want me to see it or not? I don't care what you do. Just make a move, honcho. All right, we're done. Go ahead.

56:40I got my period, man. Good. Good stuff.

56:48Ben, do you see a Tampax lying around here somewhere? Okay, that's actually, and that is it. that's that's the last of the bits good hey this episode is sponsored by tushy tushy's luxury bidet that your bathroom has been missing over two million butts love tushy and yours will too i it what's my asshole that makes it clean this holiday season give the gift of clean with one of tushy's premium bidets things can be pretty messy in our bathroom and that's why i use tushy we have them installed at the studio in our bathrooms in my house it's awesome using clumps and clumps of toilet paper is gross and honestly pretty wasteful people who have made the switch up to tushy use up to 80 less toilet paper and with less toilet paper means less clogged toilets and less gross bathroom experiences the other thing i really like about tushy is that it's really easy to use it takes no time to install and no additional plumbing or power tools needed restore balance to your bathroom and get the luxury bidet everyone's talking about pushy remember a hole is only a naughty word if you wipe

57:47for a limited time our listeners get 10 off their first bidet order when you use code creepcast to checkout. That's 10 % off your first bidet order at hello, tushy.com with promo code creepcast. Thank you to Tushy for sponsoring this episode. Now back to the episode with that, he pulled the so defeated sounding how you're reading this with that. He pulled the front door key from the back of his tattered trousers and unlocked the front door of Stephen's house, causing the lock to make a heavy clunking sound. As the door opened a jar, he entered and I followed behind still confused as to what I could have missed in the time since I last heard from Stephen.

58:24Ted immediately headed for the kitchen, where, true to his word, he put on a pot of tea and then sat down to roll himself a cigarette whilst waiting for the tea to brew. Hungry? He turned to ask me, scraping his tongue across the cigarette's paper skin and gesturing to some biscuits on a nearby plate.

58:45You want that? Later, perhaps. Isaiah, my son, stay strong in the name of the Lord. I replied with a weak smile. The smell of the brewing tea filled the room and offered me a little comfort. Stephen had always appreciated a strong tea. I placed my bags down and looked around the room. It was exactly how I remembered it. Untouched and impeccably clean, as was Stephen's fancy. Ted. Hmm.

59:25Ted looked quite out of place in such an uncluttered arena. his wild beard and dirt stained clothing. He didn't say anything to me and grossed as he was in a cigarette rolling which caused me to grow a little impatient with the man. Look, if something is happening to Steven you have to let me know quickly, Ted. What is it? He proceeded to pour two cups of tea and after passing one along with a small jug of milk he struck a match and lit a cigarette before leaning back in his chair and sighed.

59:56There isn't an easy way to say this, Ben. So I'll just come out with it. Stephen has left the parish. His ways, shall we say, over the last few months have been unnerving. Many of his parishioners and the bishop felt it was in everyone's best interest that he takes his leave, at least for a few months. I nodded, not so much in agreement, but simply out of shock. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the last two letters Stephen had sent me and handed them over to Ted. He placed his cup on the table and took them into his huge hands without saying a word. He stroked his snow-white beard whilst intermittently, nodding and sighing as he flitted from page to page, occasionally rereading a section and then nodding once more.

1:00:40Once finished, he handed them back to me, picked up his cup and took a sip, straining the brown liquid through his beard. Do these letters mean anything to you? He was talking about the bloody witchcraft business an awful lot. I knew some of what he was talking about. especially those trees out back past the graveyard. I used to play around the Gunner's Clow as a boy, and there was always tell about how evil that place was. You're from Barton. You must have heard the old tales about the ghosts and goblins and how old Saltpeter would get you if you lingered too long past sundown. Saltpeter? I replied with a smile, recalling the childhood memory of how my grandfather would warn me of entering the Gunner's Cloth after dark.

1:01:23Stay away from those woods, boy, he would say. Salt Pete or Salty Pete, some call him. Three legs he goes. He'll trick you into the woods using the voice of someone you know. That's just an old wives tale, Ted. Steve would have never taken such talk seriously. Imps and witches, familiars. It's just childish superstition. Well, I can't argue with you there, Ben. He said, taking another sip of his tea. But it was more than weird changes in his nature that I wanted to talk to you about. Not all this witchy nonsense. Tapped the letters on the table, as if to emphasize how little he thought of their contents.

1:01:59Such as? I said, picking up my own cup. Well, a couple of folks rumbled him good to the bishop over his knightly doings. They said he'd been calling regularly with shady types from East Witch and that he was involved in some missing money here at the parish. Quite a sum of folks are to be believed. Then there's the strange sounds and stranger lights coming from the cemetery. My mother was telling me about this weeks ago. I didn't want to believe her, and she's never been too keen on Stephen. Not just that, Ben. It was his whole manor. He just stopped giving a damn about the community. Grew slack in his duty, and...

1:02:43You know that's not Stephen. He turned into this cruel, morose man, almost a complete stranger, really, unsaid a lot of the vocals. Took a few more sips of his tea and finished his cigarette before continuing. So there was a village meeting, and with the agreement of the diocese and Chester and the bishop, it was decided that he should leave us. Can't say I know where he's gone, but I reckon that you'd want to take over his duties if you're willing, at least until the bishop can find a replacement. He stood up and opened a nearby drawer, producing a sealed letter for the mark of the Chester Diocese.

1:03:22Opening it, his contents confirmed what Ted was hinting at. I didn't know what to say. I was supposed to start my tenure as a curate under Stephen, not becoming the village vicar. Why didn't Bishop Ellison speak to me directly about this? Ted simply shrugged before continuing. There's something you should know, Ben. You brace yourself, because what I have to say next is going to upset you. Stiffened my back in response and allowed him to continue. Some believe that Stephen may be dead. I opened my mouth to reply, but he raised his hand. Let me finish. I said some believe he may be dead, but that doesn't make it so.

1:04:03Nonetheless, no one has heard, hide, or hear of him since he left. Phil Crouch heard a rumor that a man who looked just like Stephen had been spotted down by the locks a few nights ago. You know the ones by the river? Down past the canal that run through Blackroft? He was ranting and raving. Stephen, that is. Almost as if he was having a quarrel with himself. Well, Phil says he came out to see what the fuss was, and he swears hands down that he saw Stephen throw himself into the locks. He told the local bobbies about what he'd seen, and they couldn't find anything amiss. I thought you should know, unless you hear it from someone else in less favorable terms.

1:04:46I felt my world come crashing down around me. This was too much for me to absorb at once. Every man, be he a saint or a sinner, has his share of faults. But to hear of these developments, coupled with the last letter Stephen had sent me, and the news that he may have killed himself? Not to mention the expectation that I should take his place at the parish. I'll need time to think about it, Ted. I said, standing up slowly. He nodded and finished his drink before standing himself. I understand. Look, no one's expecting you to hold a service or anything. The whole village knows the situation and I just think that they are...

1:05:20I just think that they and the council are glad to have you here. You won't have to perform any public services, not until you are good and ready at least. No doubt a replacement will be found before too long. And try not to worry too much about what Phil Crouch says. You know him. Stupefied with drink half the time. I'm sure Steven's fine. He's probably just taking the time he needs. You pointed to the keys on the table. These are yours and Ted's all sorted out. Look, I best get back to work out there. If you need me, just say so. But I hope you'll stay. Patting me on the shoulder, Ted left. Leaving me sat alone in the kitchen.

1:05:59My mind was ablaze with confusion and doubt. Just what chaos had I returned to? It took no small amount of time for me to settle into the house. I avoided going into town at all costs and only received the minimal amount of visitors, many of which were only at my door seeking gossip. I quickly dismissed the worst of them and focused instead on the genuine well-wishers and sympathizers, of which there were depressingly few. Apart from Ted, the only person I spoke to regularly was my mother, who was less than supportive with the whole matter and only offered a few snipes about the man I had come to think of as my father.

1:06:34I spent the rest of my time in the church taking care of daily chores and wandering around the cemetery, where I would occasionally bump into Ted and have a short, pleasant, though sterile conversation about the weather before moving on. The days were growing colder, and I would frequently bring him hot tea and food as he worked relentlessly on maintaining the church grounds, Especially those close to where the feral brambles of the gunner's cloth constantly enroached He wasn't bad company by any means But as the days turned into weeks, we found less and less to talk about I also kept in constant contact with Bishop Ellison Who offered me all the support he could in running the parish He was confident that a replacement for Stephen would be found quickly But was very sensitive about discussing it in detail Knowing just how close he had been to me It was during one of these many daily excursions around the churchyard It was during one of these many daily excursions around the churchyard That I decided to revisit the witch elm trees that Stephen had once shown me I had explored most of the large open cemetery And decided to walk around the far back end which borders with the gunner's cloth I cannot state with any clear conviction what had possessed me To walk along the lonesome and lonely stretch of graveyard Crammed as it was with crumbling tombstones the names of their occupants long since worn away by the passage of time.

1:07:58In the shade of those large forsaken trees, there rested some of the oldest and most decrepit headstones in the whole cemetery. Many of them leaned, had steep angles, and some had toppled over entirely, their surfaces now home to moss and lichen. I passed each in turn, trying in vain to make out the names and dates that had been washed away by the relentless rain of northwest England, till I came across the woodshelm trees once more. Nestled at the very back of the copse, deep in the shadows of a particularly diseased-looking tree, I could see a patch of ground that appeared to have been freshly excavated.

1:08:35I made my way closer and stood in front of it, noticing that a small carved stone had been half-submerged in the recently disturbed soil. It was green and furry with moss. I went down and ran my hand around it and found the clumps of moss growing upon its surface easy enough to pull off. beneath the vegetation, I could spy that there was an inscription and a date chiseled into the sandstone underneath, where the moss had preserved it. Here lies Francis Ellis Pendle, beloved by the devil, unforgotten by his disciples. 1751 AD. The carving was undoubtedly old, and despite the protection afforded to it by the moss, it was still eroded and worn away in parts.

1:09:22As I pulled the stone out of the earth, I noticed a newer, fresher-looking carving on the back It was an odd shape, some kind of hieroglyph It's difficult to truly say just what it was It appeared somewhat similar to a pagan pentagram Where the lines were broken, resulting in a series of independent points There set what looked like a lozenge-shaped eye In place of a pupil, there was instead a small, flame-like shape The symbol must have been heathen in origin for I had never encountered its likes in all my years of religious studies. The whole stone was perhaps only ten inches in height hardly what one would call a tombstone but appearing to hold the same purpose.

1:10:04Instinctively, I dropped the stone close to where I had found it and rubbed the dirt off my hands. I felt as if I had just come into contact with something unmistakably evil as if my very soul had been touched by the hoary and eldritch nature of whatever darkness it had been used to commemorate. It was then that the words from Stephen's last note crept into my mind. Fear that which lurks beneath which tree. Do not invite it in, for it will make itself a home within you, and through you work its black magic. The hour was growing late, and the dimming sun caused the darkness of the gunner's cloth to wash over me, enveloping me within its black folds.

1:10:42I had no desire to stay in that place, and hastily made my way back to the house, determined to reach it before the sun disappeared behind those vile trees. Once inside, I breathed a sigh of relief And then set about preparing myself a supper of some toast and fresh tea Try as I might, I could not banish the warning from Stephen's letter Eventually, perhaps driven by a need to see if I had remembered his words correctly I took the bundle of Stephen's letters from the kitchen drawer Where I kept them tucked away beneath some parish leaflets And sifted through them until I found the one that mentioned Stephen's talk of witchcraft I had folded it and re-read it until I came to the passage with the warning I had indeed remembered it verbatim Unnerved, I folded up the letters and hastily placed them back into the drawer A moment later, Ted came into the kitchen crumbling about the cold and wiping his mud-stained boots on the doormat He nodded and helped himself to the tea I had brewed before sitting himself down and pulling out his tobacco to roll himself a cigarette I waited a few minutes for him to progress halfway through his task before approaching the subject of Stephen in his strange decline.

1:11:48So, Ted, did Stephen ever mention a grave to you? It went out in the yard close to the woods. He put his tobacco down and nodded. Aye, I saw him looking over it a bunch of times. He told me it was a grave of a witch. Hung for his crimes hundreds of years ago. One of the last in England, he reckoned. And that was the last he was studying him before his change of character came over him? He nodded again and lit his cigarette with a match before extinguishing it with the shake of his hand. Study is one way of putting it. Obsession would be another. You know he converted the cellar of his house into some kind of study.

1:12:24A library, I guess you could call it. Filled with all sorts of queer-looking books. Latin, I reckon. Not unusual for a viker. I guess, but some of them is written in German, and others in languages I can't begin to understand. Not only that, but he moved all kinds of bloody chemicals and equipment in there too. I can't really say I recognize most of it. Place stinks to high heaven. Is it still there? In the cellar? No. I reckon he took almost everything with him when the bishop told him to leave. Might be some bits and pieces down there, but he'd be lucky to find much." We both then sat in silence, Ted turning his attention to a local newspaper folded on the table and myself to my thoughts.

1:13:07The next day, acting largely upon a hunch I contacted the Eastwich College and asked to speak to their head Who turned out to be a rather jovial man named Lee Humphrey Who was all too happy to answer any and all of my questions Over the phone, he confirmed a suspicion of mine that he and Stephen had had some mild correspondence Concerning lab equipment and various chemicals, compounds, and acids He reeled off several overly long and complex names oblivious to the fact that I was totally ignorant of what he was speaking. I thanked him and hung up the phone, a few more pieces of the puzzles sliding into place in my mind.

1:13:43The distance between them, however, was too great to form a larger, cohesive picture. Witchcraft and science. Chemistry and an obsession with a 200-year-old hidden grave. How do they connect? Determined to uncover more, I decided to visit the library Stephen had set up and then dismantled during that time we were separated. The entrance to the cellar was in the kitchen Behind a narrow door that I first presumed to have been a broom cupboard It concealed a flight of cold stone steps that led to a distinctly dank and musty underground room A few cramped shelves on the walls either side of the steps housed a collection of mundane objects Candles, dried out paint cans and the like But also, luckily, a working torch I took the ladder and switched it on as I descended to the steps It drives me crazy how British people call flashlights torches Can't you just be normal?

1:14:36Torch is another thing, you stupid Whatever He has a torch in my head now, like a flaming torch Ben I just said Ben Ben The cellar wasn't very far down But the low ceiling above the steps was frighteningly claustrophobic And I was forced to cock my head to the side To avoid banging it on the wooden beams I reached the bottom and found an open doorway to my right Which led into a very simple square room that, like the stairs, possessed an oppressively low ceiling and a strong musty scent. I entered the cellar, relying upon the feeble cone of sickly yellow light emanating from the torch to make out any firm details from the malaise of murky darkness beyond.

1:15:15A large rotting wooden table served as a centerpiece for the room, and there were rows of badly handmade shelves lining the back wall, sagging and leaning at odd angles. The shelves were mostly barren, but there was evidence in the dust that a large collection of books had once stood here, and a bare steel skeleton of chemistry equipment and a few empty bottles sat on the desk. As I moved the light around, it reflected off several large bottles on another shelf to my right. Large, thick, almost barrel-like, most were full of clear yellow liquids, others were nut-brown oil in color. A few were marked with hastily scrawled labels that read, Royal Water.

1:15:55Beyond the collection of chemicals, there was a door that appeared to lead out of the cellar. This confused me, for I could not recall any outside entrance that led to the cellar beneath the house. The door itself looked ancient, with its rusted bolt and handle barely holding on to the crumbling wood to which they were both crudely nailed into. As I moved closer to it, the light for my torch caught something carved into the frame above the door. It was that curious star hieroglyph I had seen on the stone above the grave of Francis Ellis Pendle. I ran my finger along the carving, almost as if to ascertain that it was real.

1:16:31As my finger traced the freakish shape, I felt a chill creep over me, the same chill that had caused me to flee from the shadows of the witch elms. This time, I refused to let fear grip me, taking the door by its rusted handle and pushing it inward. To my surprise, the door did not lead to the outside of the house, but instead revealed another set of stone stairs leading further down into the earth. The odor that assaulted my senses as I took a solitary step towards those stairs was foul. It was a putrid stench, unlike anything I had ever smelt before. If I was to describe it as an ungodly mixture of some acidic compound and rotting excrement, I would be on the verge of doing justice to the malignant, invasive scent.

1:17:15I instinctively took a step back and raised my hand to cover my nose, as if it would somehow relieve me of the burden of breathing in that foul and fetid air. For a brief moment, I considered turning around and leaving the cellar, but out of burning curiosity, I slowly started to descend those awful stairs. What lay at the bottom is something that will haunt me until my final days. For laying beyond, it's a second chamber, not unlike the first. But whereas the above cellar space had been converted into some kind of perverse amalgamation of esoteric library and alchemist's laboratory, This hidden chamber was nothing less than the Devil's Workshop.

1:17:55Strange images were carved and painted onto the walls, many of them resembling the hieroglyph I had seen on the meager gravestone of Francis Ellis Pendle. There was little to tie the various pictographs together. Some depicted spheres or eyeballs. Others were long, snake-like tendrils that curled upon themselves to create a rudimentary alien text. As I edged further into the room, I could make out various objects nailed to the ceiling, Some were rusted tools, like the kind you would find at a slaughterhouse. Others were odd assortments of twigs held together with twine, creating shapes that had a vague human outline to them.

1:18:32The crowning horror, however, was the table. This long stone edifice was less a desk and more like a butcher slab, stained a hideous reddish brown all over. There were grooves carved into the table's surface, all of which culminated towards a round hole, underneath which a rusted iron bucket had been attached. It was from this bucket that the stench appeared to originate and bending down to inspect its contents, I could see the glistening, rotting hind limb of a dog. Maggots wriggled across its surface, burrowing in and out of the putrid flesh. I felt bile rise in my throat, but I managed to keep it down and continue my investigation.

1:19:14Like the room above, there were shelves fitted to the walls. These were not bare, instead being filled to the brim with various manuscripts, papers, maps, and glass jars. The whole scene had an unmistakable sense of the bygone laid over it, as if it had sat there undisturbed for centuries. Among the papers and jars, I found a small linen bag tied with a piece of string. The brown stain on the bag's underside made me think twice about opening it, but I eventually found the courage to do so. Inside were numerous small white objects That looked like tiny stones But upon tipping the contents out And inspecting them with the torch I found my horror That they were children's teeth Brutal Okay so When Steven went mad he began to like Give himself over to these occult teachings And the dogs, the animals that went missing All the rumors and stuff was him performing Like experiments in this lower basement Yeah and also I think that the witch I think that he let it in and this is him doing the black magic that he was talking about as well yeah do you think it's him getting possessed and that's why he's like quarrel with himself while he's fighting himself that's how it read but I feel like it's like he's going insane and he's like performing obviously non-holy black magic kind of I wouldn't even say experiments I just think he's like doing rituals and shit in his basement do you think that maybe he started doing this because he thought he could defeat the witch like there was some ritual he could perform to get rid of it yeah i think so i also think that he went in ignorantly thinking that this was just like a cool discovery and not realizing like the thing that he just like let loose well that's how it goes sometimes you think you found a cool dead witch and the next thing you know you're collecting children's teeth it's a bummer yeah it's you know It's rough.

1:21:06It happens to us. By this time, the smell was becoming unbearable and I had no wish to linger further. Deciding to abandon my investigation, I spied a small frayed notebook left on the right hand corner of what I now thought of as a vivisection. By this time, the smell was becoming unbearable and I had no wish to linger further. Deciding to abandon my investigation, I spied a small frayed notebook left on the right hand corner of what I now thought of as a vivisectionist's table. For whatever reason, I could not then fathom A curious woodblock image on the front must have caught my eye And I picked the book up and tucked it into my jacket Before making my way back to the sanity of the house above I immediately removed my jacket and threw it onto the kitchen table Disgusted that the terrible stench from below Had somehow attached itself to me like a parasite I then methodically opened all the windows of the house Hoping that the chill air would purify the hideous odor that had made a nest for itself in my nostrils.

1:22:05Tired, my poor mind swirling from the revelations of that hypogean realm, I eventually collapsed onto my bed and succumbed to exhaustion. I cannot say how long I had been slumbering when the first of those terrible dreams came to me. My sense of time had been grossly warped by my exploration in the cellar, but it must have been quite sudden, as the sun was still in the sky when I finally jolted awake, my pillow wet with sweat. It's impossible for me to tell if the dreams were brought on by Stephen's final letters Or if that hidden chamber below the house had awoken something macabre and unwelcome in my imagination I found myself standing within the cemetery outside only it was different The land around me was sparser with fewer tombstones jutting out of the soft mossy ground A gunner's cloth lay before me It's outlined far more feral and foreboding than it had any right to be The sky above me was a blackened abyss Punctured by thousands of twinkling stars That glittered and gleamed from the great beyond The fat silver moon slowly crept above the tree line Casting its pale white light upon the cemetery Causing long deep shadows to detach from the headstones And crawl upon the ground towards me I took a few steps back But they still followed me Chilling me as they swept over my feet Legs and body Then, out of the tangled briars, he came, hopping and gambling out of the branches, the awful form of saltpeter.

1:23:35On three legs, he danced, the sleek body of a greyhound, upon the neck of which there leaned and swayed the head of a cat. His eyes were milky orbs, faintly illuminated like phosphorus toadstools. From his feline jaws, there dripped a reddish-clear syrup that hissed as it hit the sanctified ground of the courtyard. He momentarily ceased his incessant frolicking to scratch himself, but I could see that it was his missing back leg that was attempting the impossible task, a raw, bloody stump that gesticulated feebly towards the source of his irritation. Then, beyond the twitching imp, I could see another figure, a man.

1:24:15Even at this distance, I could make out the repulsive details of his form. He was tall and thin, his long, slender fingers like twigs, His lengthy nose and sunken eyes were clearly visible through the cemetery gloom. Worst of all, a sardonic and wolfish grin lay stretched across his face. There was a hunger in that smirk, a deep and terrible burning hunger. When Saul Peter ceased his scratching, and in a hollow voice that somehow sounded like my mother's, spoke these words. Come, child, come. We have marmalade and marzipan, and all men have baked treats for you. We have seed cakes and toffee apples, all that your heart desires.

1:24:58Come with me into the forest, and I will show you the delights beyond your dreams. I felt myself being pulled towards those honeyed words, all the while the tall, sinister man said nothing, only grinning at me from beneath his wide-brimmed hat. I can't. It's dark and my mother will want me home for supper. Supper? replied Saul Peter, his rotting, pale tongue licking around his chops. Oh, we shall have supper, won't we, master? The imp then looked up towards the terrible man who stayed silent while nodding his head in agreement. I tried once more to turn away, but my feet were spellbound, marching me towards what I knew to be my demise.

1:25:39Mother! Mother, please, I'm scared! The terrible man laughed as Saltpeter rubbed himself upon his master's bloodstained breeches, a wheezing purr emanating from his twisted form. Mother! I cried once more, the words mercifully pulling me back from the precipice of my dreaming madness. Mother. Wimpered, awake now and once more in my bed. To say that the dream, the nightmare, had unnerved me would be a lie. In fact, it was all I could think of for the next few days. I did not dare to sleep again on the first day and instead piled myself with the strong Turkish coffee that Stephen had kept hidden away for special guests.

1:26:18When I finally did succumb to sleep the next day. My dreams were less vivid and mercifully brief. I felt the presence of Saltpeter and the terrible man on several occasions, but managed to awaken myself before they could make themselves known. I also dreamt often of the gunner's cloth and of the outer copse of witch elm trees that lay beyond. I think Saltpeter was an old name for gunpowder, I thought. So I wonder if there's a connection between... Am I wrong? Yeah, potassium nitrate. Okay. Yeah. Well, like it's the chemical that's used in gunpowder and black powder and stuff like that. I wonder if there's a connection between this creature being called Saltpeter and then all the references to the chemical stuff that Stephen was doing in his basement.

1:27:03I don't know. The manuscript I had taken from the hidden cellar... Do what? I just said, who knows? Who knows? The manuscript I had taken from the hidden cellar chamber lay forgotten on the kitchen table during this haunted time. until by chance a week or so later, I happened to find it beneath a small pile of local newspapers that Ted had been collecting. I was once again taken aback by the grotesque, demonical woodblock printing on the front of the manuscript. Sitting down and inspecting it further, I could see roughly a dozen or so figures depicted in the image. Most were what I would describe as crones and hags, many of them riding upon the backs of black goats and other less discernible creatures.

1:27:44Various furtive, demoniac characters were also shown. some of them dancing and copulating with the crones and disgusting detail. Around them were various smaller figures. I guess you would call them imps or familiars of varying anatomy. Many of the figures were oddly named, text appearing next to them, to be what I took for some form of early English. Queer titles such as Pie Wacken, Grizzle Gretigut, and Peek in the Crown. But one of the odious creatures had a name next to its image That caused my heart to jump in my chest for a moment The image was that of a three-legged hound Bearing the head of a cat Next to the beast lay the words Saltpeter I paused for a moment Images of that terrible nightmare playing out in my mind Like a perverse pantomime I glanced back at the yellowed manuscript There was no title on the front So I slowly peeled back the first page and there printed in bold black lay the words sussex manuscript cultus cultus maleficarum uh so that means cult manuscript i'm pretty sure i think is that what maleficarum maybe maliciousness oh my computer gets possessed immediately a maleficarum uh okay maleficarum is in reference to witches because the book Malus Maleficarum means the hammer of witches.

1:29:13So cultists would be cult of witches, I would imagine then. Sussex Manuscript, the cult of witches. Also, the other name, Piewacket's a legend too, right? Making that up.

1:29:33Yes, Piewacket is one of the familiar spirits of a convicted witch accused to be claimed of witch finder okay yeah so it was a spirit that like witches would summon and stuff like that so it's a book of spells book of witches it reminds the description he had of like these weird shapes these half man things like copulating with the crones and stuff like that remind me of a lot of old depictions of like witch festivals where they're around a fire and the demons appear and dance with them kind of like the ending of the movie The Witch. But there's a painting, I think it's called Black Sabbath.

1:30:12This is important to me. Witch's Sabbath. Yeah. So there's a painting called Witch's Sabbath. That's a very famous one of like all the witches gathered around like a depiction of the devil or Baphomet, whatever goat headed thing. But yeah, typically in like old tradition, and the witches would gather together and have these big fires where the spirits would come out and give them blessings and stuff like that. Anyway, no author or date appeared anywhere in the front or back of the manuscript, but as I flicked through, it opened on a section roughly half of the way through. This particular chapter must have been referenced many times, for the manuscript almost appeared to want to open at this point.

1:30:54I glanced down and saw the title, Calling Upon Thy Black Imp. It almost looked like something out of a cookbook A repulsive recipe that was half profane culinary instruction And half magical incantation Odious images accompanied the next page Showing a gnarled crone gleefully chopping up the bodies of rabbits, cats, dogs, and calves With an oversized meat cleaver I decided to put the manuscript in the kitchen drawer next to Stephen's letters And did my best to banish its foul images from my mind That's a really funny place to put it So what's the caretaker's name? Ted Yeah, so he's just like walking around one day And he opens it, he's like Oh, what's in the cookbook?

1:31:36Oh my god Oh boy Oh god Oh no, it's happening again Okay, alright, this isn't a drill Days and then weeks passed by And eventually I managed to put most of the past behind me Regarding the horrid manuscript As well as Steven and his strange turn of personality The dreams lingered for a while, but eventually they released me from their grip My sleep grew more restful I resumed my duty as a stand-in vicar with a renewed gusto and opened the church At first the locals were slow to return, but as word spread, my Sundays were soon busy And I found myself welcoming faces new and old to my service I allowed myself to forget about all this talk of black magic and imps and witches That had plagued my return to the village and instead focused on serving my community with the help of a few curates appointed by the bishop to assist me.

1:32:28I even found the courage to descend once more into the cellar and bricked up the entrance that led to the hidden room beyond. Thoughts of Stephen still occasionally crept into my mind, of course. Typically in the form of short dreams I still experience from time to time, but these were less disruptive than my prior nightmares, being less sinister in nature. I had resigned myself to the awful truth that I may never see or hear from Stephen again and so spent more time with my mother and rekindled a few friendships in the village that had grown cold whilst I was away studying. I grew keenly aware that I was being groomed by the diocese to replace Stephen as the parish priest and struggled with my conflicting feelings on the matter.

1:33:08I had managed, however, to develop a firm mental robustness that permitted me to carry on with my new daily routine, growing my flock and welcoming the Lord's light and forgiveness into the hearts and minds of my community. Sadly, this period of respite it would abruptly end with an event that was singular in its horror and absurdity. It was an event that, at a certain time in my life, I would have welcomed wholeheartedly. But now it was one that filled me with an inescapable cold dread. For the first time since returning to Barton, I finally received word from Stephen. A note that plunged my mind back into madness.

1:33:44Oh, that's cool. The letter was from Stephen, but this wasn't obvious to me immediately, as it lacked not only the hallmarks of his handwriting, but also that of any normal sane human being. The writing was a mere scribble, childish and scratchy. Cramp's script appeared as if it had been fighting with itself as it spilled onto the page in a vain effort to form some kind of discernible legibility. The paper itself was also odd. It appeared to have been torn from a book as the printed stamp, property of Barton Library, appeared on the opposite side. The paper was also slightly damp, Water stains and a strange grit-like sediment dotted around the written words.

1:34:24Content of the note, as best as I care to remember, was as follows. Ben, don't head long before these hands are not mine. Manage to make it back to my body. I can feel him pulling me back to his. Don't think I can escape again. I will try. Do one last thing for me, I beg you. Beneath the tree, I'm beneath the tree and in pain. His spirit is free now. It wants you. My body's no longer suitable. Yours is better. I beg you. Dig up the earth under the tree. Take what you find beneath and burn it. Not fire. It must be acid. Take the royal water and drench his remains in it. None of the essential salts can survive.

1:35:08Do you understand? He can return if he use fire. Dying slowly on the ground. I cannot stand the blackness anymore. I am myself for a few moments Back here in my own rotting body To write and bring you this note Soon I must return to the soil My own fault I called to him and he answered I'm so sorry for bringing you into this madness Do as I ask Steven So not to diminish the story It's really cool But if I was to text you that Randomly Would you come burn the body? Yes in a heartbeat even if you're still if you're walking on the street i'd cover you in gasoline i'd light you ablaze or no i throw acid in your face yeah yeah you throw acid on me i just looked it up to royal water is an old name for a mixture of nitric acid and hydrochloric acid it's a metal way of saying it royal water that is a cool way to say it royal water the stuff that just burns stuff That's pretty sick But so if I texted you that Which he's not even I mean he's saying burn the body so that I can be freed of it Because he's possessed by it But he's not saying to burn his own body Right?

1:36:23He's saying burn the witch Yeah so why would you burn me If I texted you that Oh I wouldn't think about that in the moment I would think about that later Oh shit I guess it goes I'd be wrong about that That was an oopsie daisy that's what i'd say oh oops my bad i'm on the ground screaming my face is melting off that's what i say oh dang fuck man i'm so sorry oh that's rough dude i'm sorry to hear that that's sorry oh well you know this is really one of those when some lose some scenarios i'm bleeding everywhere i mean it's fascinating i see more and more where the story opened up at with him in the madhouse for digging up a body.

1:37:07I must burn it. The note must have been... Burn it. The note must have been hand-delivered, for it lacked a stamp or even an address on it. It was simply a folded-up piece of paper with Ben scrawled on the front in the same spidery penmanship. I needed some fresh air to clear my mind after reading the baffling note and took a brisk walk through the village. The banishing sun was pleasant enough, but it was punctured cruelly by a cutting wind that caused my skin to shrivel with goosebumps. The village was quiet, and I saw only a few locals as I walked a loop around the village, starting at Townfield Lane and then along Runcord Road, finally back up Lit Lane and towards the church.

1:37:46There was so much chaos flowing in my mind that upon returning home, I simply collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table and lay my head down. It weighed heavily upon my heart that Stephen was out there somewhere, either a drooling madman or the victim of some black sorcery that I could barely bring myself to give credence to. But if God and his mighty kingdom were real, as I had been raised to believe, then surely the devil and all the denizens of the pit must be also. This affair did not strike me as madness. There was a revolting authenticity to it, not to mention an alien element that my mind struggled to grapple with in its complexity.

1:38:21As the sun sank upon that day and gave birth to the inevitable darkness, I found myself drawn to the decanter of brandy that Stephen had kept in the lounge and indulged myself heartily of its warming contents. The fire conjured in my throat by the liquor was very much welcomed and by the time I had polished off of a fourth glass I was very much under the sway of hypnos and carried myself numbly to my bed For the first time in weeks the dreams returned I tossed and turned all night unable to settle My brain buzzed with a thousand thoughts as half-imagined fears danced in my mind's eye There is a horrid semi-realization that my slumbering form was being watched and more than a few times I felt my spirit lift out of my body and float above my bed.

1:39:04From this observation point, I could see a dark figure standing in the shadowed corner of my room, his eyes glaring at my sleeping body with an alien hunger. I saw Saltpeter, that hideous abomination, leap upon my bed and paw playfully at my lips. This one will do nicely. The imp then spoke, once more in a voice that sounded like my mother's. This one, master, and then we are free. When the morning sun blissfully shined through my bedroom curtains, I was able to banish the night's dread back to whatever foul pit it had spawned from. But each night they returned. I held sermons for the following fortnight, designed more to comfort myself than my community.

1:39:44I spoke with fiery conviction how Jesus had defeated both death and the devil, and how with his love there was no evil on the earth that would not be banished. This settled my nerves somewhat, but comfort of normalcy, which I craved, eluded me. A few days after receiving this crude note, I learned with great dismay that Stephen's body had been found on the Blackcroft Heath. Though his bloated corpse had been discovered some distance away from both the canal and the nearby river, the coroner ruled his cause of death as drowning. The funeral shortly followed, and I decided to lead the service, despite the bishop offering to take that burden from me.

1:40:21The turnout was higher than I expected, which comforted me, and I even saw my mother shed a few tears for our village's departed vicar. Eventually, with both the terrible dreams and Stephen's demise weighing upon me I made the decision to step down from the parish and to leave the church entirely What had once been a dream was rapidly transforming into an unending nightmare I planned to leave Barton altogether to never again step foot within its haunted streets I'd concluded that the village was not a good place to linger and made plans to relocate to Manchester This decision, final and resolute in my mind, did manage to bring some comfort, and I allowed myself to hope that this whole affair would one day be behind me.

1:41:03I didn't inform the bishop. I was concerned that he would try to convince me to stay. I gave myself no longer than two months to wrap up my affairs and then inform the diocese of my decision. As fate would have it, that decision, along with many others, was stolen from me on that awful night that was to come. The renewed sense of peace brought on by my impending resignation and relocation might have lasted Had that crowning horror not invaded my world on that dark December night I had retired to bed early But the constant lashing of the rain had been relentless all day and was set to continue throughout the night I slept fitfully in sporadic episodes of thrashing Where I was experiencing the most vivid and horrid dream imaginable I dreamt of being confined, bound in the darkness My arms worked, but my legs felt numb and lifeless I struggled ceaselessly to remove myself from this foul bondage But my body felt like some spindly marionette Whose strings had become tangled around my fingers Cutting off the blood flow and leaving them numb and useless After what seemed like an eternity I somehow managed to muster what little strength I had And force my form through the cracks of my prison I dreamt of pushing upwards, forever upwards Past the rotting wood and the soft wet earth past the worms and the matted tangle of endless roots and finally to the cold rain-lashed surface above.

1:42:27I awoke suddenly with that last thought, set upright in bed with cooling sweat pouring down my back, but it wasn't the dream that had startled me awake. As my senses adjusted, I could hear that it was the ringing of the church bells that had mercifully returned my mind from the abyss. The clear and familiar sound of ringing bells pierced the night air, and I glanced at the clock to see that it was just past three. The witching hour, I thought. I jumped out of bed and grabbed my dressing gown. No doubt the noise would eventually awaken the entire village and I would be to blame. I raced down the stairs and bolted out of the kitchen door into the chill of the night.

1:43:03I barely noticed the cold rain pelting my face as I ran towards the church. My slippers greedily soaked up the muddy water that pooled around my footsteps and I shuddered as the cold, damp muck sank in between my toes. Determined to stop the commotion, I fumbled with the keys, but the door was already ajar, and I pushed it open and made my way to the main hall in the direction of the bell chamber. By the time I reached the door, the ringing had mysteriously stopped, and I slowed down my pace. As I bent over to catch my breath, I noticed a disgusting trail of mud and slime shaking its way from the doorway and through the hall.

1:43:40It seemed to lead directly to where I was headed. I kneeled and swiped my fingers through the baffling sludge It possessed a charnel stitch Not unlike the beated aroma that had sickened me in the cellar that terrible day I immediately pulled a handkerchief from my gown pocket And wiped the horrid jelly from my fingers as best I could I was determined to find out the cause of the ringing But it crept over me that there was perhaps a mundane yet still unnerving explanation Suppose someone had broken in and was using the bells as a diversion while an accomplice robbed my home, I thought. Still, as much as I would have liked to accept the solution as fact, I felt compelled to investigate the muddy trail.

1:44:21There's little value in the house that a thief could steal, and even if it was true, I had no desire to confront a burglar in the dead of night. I therefore slowly entered the tenuverous chambers that housed the bell ropes beyond the main hall. There was a feeble sliver of light that gloamed through the window from the street lamps outside. I could just make out the basic parameter of the chamber. I was certain that no one else was in the room, and I carefully walked deeper into the darkness to inspect the six ropes. All were unmoving, except one, which swayed gently in the dark. Just like the floor outside, there was a smear of foul-smelling mud over the ground, as well as on the moving rope.

1:45:02I placed my hand upon it, and it stopped swaying. Then, just as I was considering leaving, I suddenly became aware of a shape on the ground in the far left corner My eyes were still adjusting to the dark of the room But at first I fancied it looked like a mud-stained bundle of rags and twisted sticks But as I inspected further Creeping horror washed over me along with the terrible recognition What I was seeing What did I see? That is at once an easy and a difficult question to answer And is perhaps at the crux of this whole affair Relying on the ground in front of me face, or should I say skull, pressed to the stone floor, was an ancient collection of decayed bones and mummified flesh.

1:45:46Chunks of stinking, sodden earth, and flayed, tattered skin were wrapped around the grisly mound of necrosis. It was a brown, spindly thing, more bone than meat, with a whitish, cracked dome for a head. Wrapped around its spine, close to what once passed for and neck was the rotten damp rope of the hangman's noose. It was then that I heard a muffled and strained sound emanating from the skeletal horror that lay at my feet. It was at once a whisper and a growl, human and bestial, disembodied and echoing all around me, yet at the same time focused upon that mass of rags-infused bone. The noise ululated of my soul, for the voice was that of Stephen atoms corpse thing before me issued forth a single sentence for growing still and silent once more then for the love of god please oh gosh dude oh your boy says that he's been like possessed by the spirit of this ancient witch and then the witch is like decomposing skeleton shows up and you hear your friends say, please, my gosh.

1:46:56So it seems that the witch switches places with Steven, like the witch's spirit is still trapped in his tomb. But because Steven came into contact with it, Steven now possesses the rotten body of the decaying witch deep beneath the earth. That explains his visions of being covered in roots, unable to get out. And now it wants Benjamin next. So Stephen has to horrifically switch his body With a corpse that's decomposing in a coffin Right And now it's crawled to the church To try to get Benjamin to help him That's rough Those who have bothered to speak to me at any length Know the rest of my story Half mad and howling with a volatile mixture of fear and fury I retrieved the yellow chemicals from the basement And together with the rotting bundle Threw their contents into the self-exhumed grave Of Francis Ellis Pendle At some point two police officers accosted me, but I managed to overcome them and continue my grisly task, dissolving the whole mess into acrid sludge.

1:47:55I watched it bubble and froth into the black soil as the earth reluctantly absorbed the disgusting mass. Despite the obvious horror, I felt a great relief wash over me. The chaos of the past few months of my life came sharply into view, like a knot unraveling before me. Madness gave way to clarity. Though this is the end of my account, it's not the end of the matter for there was no doubt in my mind that beneath that lonesome witch elm beneath the cold earth of that hidden grave the soul of my dear friend Stephen Adams had lain incarcerated for months in silent torment. He had called up the wicked soul of his ancestor for whatever purpose I can now only guess at he had not been strong enough to put down that which he had called forth and paid for it with his life and soul a terrifying spiritual transfusion had taken place, Pendle had taken Stephen's body.

1:48:46Stephen had been forced into Pendle's. At some point, Stephen had managed to take control of his body long enough to hurl it into the churning waters of the river, hoping to end that evil which had made a home for itself within him. Stephen had been reduced to a mere consciousness as Pendle's spirit roamed freely. As the witch set about renewing his covenant, conjuring up his black imps, Stephen's sentient mind fully aware with its senses intact understood with abominable clarity that it had now inhabited the 200 year old corpse of Francis Ellis Pendle he who had been hung for his crimes against God and the King he who had sought to bargain with the devils of the sky and of the earth he who had slept restlessly beneath the dark soil of the gunner's cloth his presence felt by all who dared enter he who had dreamt of nothing but the torment and wickedness he would unleash upon the descendants of those who had delivered him to his grave.

1:49:44Dreams of vengeance and dark oaths. Those terrible dreams of blasphemy and madness. The dreams beneath the witch tree. And that is the end of the story. You know, usually one of our stories, one of our stories end with like a little exposition dump like that. Usually I'm like, eh, but it was nice. It was like a little, it's almost poetic. Yeah. And also you have to take that ending and compare it back to the very beginning of the story where it's like we're reading an investigator's account or like he's talking about Benjamin who Benjamin was thrown in a madhouse after being found, you know, dissolving the body in acid.

1:50:22Right. It says he came under direct care and says he one night he banished from his cell not long after his statement was recorded through unknown means. He is thought to have overcome the security staff, brutally murdering one of the junior physicians, Dr. Howard Fleming, for making good his escape. So he's made it out. He's hiding in the woods somewhere. So what I think happened is Pendle's body switched with Stephen's, right? We know that happened. And then Stephen managed to come back from the grave or crawl out of the grave to have Benjamin dissolve him so that he'd be no more. Which, sure, Stephen's finally laid to rest.

1:50:58His soul is no longer trapped in the body. But even though Stephen got to throw the rotting corpse Or he got to throw himself into the river for a quick moment We know that spirits can still possess rotting corpses So that would mean Pendle's spirit is inside of Stephen's body Meaning that's still out there And again, if my theory is correct That Stephen and Benjamin are father and son Then it's likely that Pendle is now seeking Benjamin's body And in our intro to the story, which is set after the events of the letter, it seems that Pendle got what he wanted. Perhaps Benjamin's dream of being beneath the ground wasn't him in Pendle's old body.

1:51:42It was him in Stephen's own body. And now Pendle has possessed Benjamin in the psychiatric ward, killed a doctor on his way out, and made it into the night. So his witchcraft came to fruition because he didn't need the father anymore because he had the son. So I think that's where the story ends. It's all, and also there's some clever stuff in there about Benjamin not feeling fit to take over the moniker of the church and saying God will protect him and all this stuff. But despite his stated assuredness in God protecting him, he always continued to think on these evil things. He continued to go down into the basement.

1:52:16He continued to look into the witchcraft. He looked more and more into it. He told himself that God would have it under control, but he kept prying into the demonology, into the witchcraft of it all. And eventually he suffered the price because at the end of the story, it seems he became the next vessel. So it's ultimately like a story of him slowly drifting off a slope. He starts the story, like you mentioned saying Steven was such a good guy. Steven would never do anything wrong. And Steven does all this evil, gives himself over to the spirit of Pendle that now at the end of his story, he's fallen into the same trap.

1:52:46Steven, who I believe to be his father was just a forerunner for him. so it's a fascinating story with like of like one character's descent into madness even though trying to convince himself that he's able to stop not being able to stop and eventually succumbing to the same fate that he tried to save and eventually save Stephen from yeah it's a it's a good work same again with his other story Dagon's mirror really great characters great interactions between like little setups like I feel like they just having like a character like Ted come in for a brief moment and, uh, kind of be at least someone who was there watching him and be like, I know, seriously, it's, it's getting really fucked up.

1:53:27Uh, it's just a fun little addition, even if it isn't like, you know, tie itself into a huge part of the, uh, outcome of the story. It's just a lot of fun, but you know, a really, really fun story. I always like whenever stories have a thing too, of like a priest, like it kind of reminds me of the movie, uh, the final prayer, which I referenced all the fucking time, but it really is just like people coming to a parish where the guy is seeming a little, it like a little out of usual, like not, not super normal, kind of a bit weird. And it just fully envelopes into like a giant horror that the guy has been having to deal with for some time.

1:54:04So that's always fun. But guys, that's our episode this week. Thank you so much to the audio listeners on Spotify and Apple podcast. Thank you so much for giving us a nice, beautiful rating there. And also patrons. we appreciate you so much for supporting the channel uh be sure to check it out if you want some extra goodies but until next time stay creeped everyone bye-bye stay creeped and of course check out nick lowe's instagram and creepypasta account down in the description i'm looking forward to when he inevitably writes a story about me saving hunter from being in the spirit of an ancient witch only for me to then quite tragically wind up in hunter's rotting body I'm sure that will happen on this podcast at some point so stay tuned thanks for watching

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