The Delaurier Invitation | CreepCast

30:13That's 10 % off your first bidet order at hellotushy.com with promo code CREEPCAST. Thanks, Tushy, for sponsoring the episode. Now back to the f***ing episode. At the foot of the main steps, a single sheet of paper had been fixed to the door. The edges curled and feathered. Rain had kissed it off, though the ink remained legible. The head in red, itinerary and house rules for Mr. McCalley. Let us see your law. I read the whole of it with care. The directives were set in numbered lines with no ornament. Number one, enter alone. Number two, remain within marked paths. Number three, keep to scheduled events.

30:52Number four, do not attempt to meet staff. Number five, do not deviate from times. Enter alone. I suppose we have begun well at least. I continued down to the itinerary. the schedule was written below the rules in our blocks Friday through Sunday first event was a gramophone lecture marked for this early evening meanwhile the final item for Sunday bore only one word stay very well I'll keep to your demands August if only to see what leads I press the iron latch door yielded it's interesting that he's like just so willingly to just be like alright cool man I'm down I'm done to play ball. I don't give a fuck.

31:36Well, it's like I told the guy earlier, like if there's anyone who is going to, like if this guy's out here, fake or not, he's like a journalist. So he wants to see. So whatever this grand encounter is, he's gets to be the one to write about it. He gets to be the witness of it. I imagine the stay at the end because he's going to die or be trapped there in a very hotel, California. ask fashion. Um, also the, the mentions of the symbols being a triangle with wings, a triangle is super common and a lot of like, you know, cult imagery and stuff like that. And the upright triangle represents fire. I think if I remember right, um, and fire has to do with like passion and purpose and drive and justice and things like that.

32:27So, uh, or it could just be a triangle in the sense of like the Trinity, you know, the three, the triangle imagery can mean a lot, uh, with wings, it could be explicitly religious, like Trinity of angels, Trinity, whatever it could mean. Uh, but there's clues as to what may be happening here. The idea of an itinerary is fun. Like as he stays the weekend, there's going to be a series of things he's forced to see. It's getting closer to a sauce scenario as we go on. Just saying Friday, October 24th, 1930 the entryway across the threshold and stood in the vestibule hall the air held a mineral scent the kind that lingers over a quarry after rain floor tiles formed a radiating script that steered my attention to the far wall where a colossal bronze sunburst presided over the inner door at the base of the nearest ray a bronze plate lay etched with another stanza From cratered courts, the rebel host upreared their glittering plan, a city hewn from smoking dreams to crown disbelief of man.

33:31I let the words settle and took stock of the room again. There were no rugs, no umbrella stand, no scatter of boots. The place held the undisturbed neatness of a stage set before the curtain call. I raised my side above and witnessed grand statues from the rooftop, peering down at me through the atrium's glass ceiling. They appeared to stand in judgment of the guest who arrived at the threshold. Off to my left, the clock made itself known. I broke my attention away from the faceless giants overhead and fixed on the dial. I listened past that steady metronome and hunted for any other life in the marble runs.

34:09After some time, it became clear that there would be no clatter of servants, no drift of talk my company it would seem would remain to be only the machinery of the manor i must admit the hush went to work at the base of my skull in the same way worms work a wet patch of sod it moved with an appetite oh i'm not you know what actually i have to stop because you made fun of me for being into the story before no i'm just i mean you can you can you can jack the soft put all you want i'm just saying no i see there you go there you go but the way it's phrased the it worked in the base of my skull like worms in a patch of sod moving with an appetite it's a good line it's great alliteration i like that i faced the sunburst once more a pedestal waited near the door a waist-high granite block with a copper plate in front upon it rested a gramophone of black finish and muscular lines its horn flared like a night blooming flower The crank lay at the side.

35:10A single record rested on the plate. Beside that, a leaflet lay pinned beneath a small silver weight shaped as a wing. I laid my suitcase by the wall and read the notice. A simple, neat line. Orientation to commence at five o 'clock. Stand under the eyes of this atrium and play this record. Attend the welcoming. My watch read 4.56. If this was to be theater, I would not miss my cue. I worked warmth back into my fingers and paced the vestibule to test the echo of my bootfalls, of which there were many. Yet each returned with a lag, as if the room's corners ate a fraction of each step. Then my companion rang.

35:52Its echo outdid my boots. Five had arrived. I stepped onto the bronze crescent before the gramophone. The horn waited, flower open, black mouth turned to the room. I wound the handle and lowered the needle. The gramophone answered with a deep, belt-driven purr. A hairline hiss rose from the record. The demand's measured tenor filled the atrium, clipped and punctual, as if each word had been drawn to the gold ruler. Welcome, Mr. Rowan. I trust your trip served you well. You stand in the Vistabula of the Deloitte Estate, my home, the threshold where function governs form. Now, before we begin, know this.

36:39The estate is prepared for your comfort. Your chamber is set. Your supper arranged. Your route marked. You will not need to summon anyone. Those who serve will move where they belong and will not intrude. In kind, do not intrude upon them. I mean to give you a story fit for print, so others may bear witness to my creation. In order for that to happen, I must ask you to attend to what is before you and not what is behind you. You wish to look over your shoulder at times. I ask that you resist that temptation. The house prefers your attention forward, as do I. In the meantime, take a moment to look around and enjoy the artistry of my work.

37:22I will walk you through this palace starting here. You will see that this vestibule is laid in bands of travertine and Belgian black.

37:37I walked to the inner circle and allowed the room's presence to close in. There was a strange weight to the air, like a charge in shock. Note the bronze sunburst above the inner door. Atreus are not ornament. They are vectors. They tell you where to walk, how to hold your frame, how to breathe. If you lose your barracks at any point in your stay, return to a sunburst and take instruction from its lines. Should that fail you, look upon the baseboards. You will find narrow inlays of dark stone. These are also guide marks. Let the room command you. Resist nothing from it. The horn shimmered a little with the deeper vowels.

38:18I could feel it through my shoes. Now lift your head and consider the dimensions. The ceiling steps upward in three separate planes. Each step is a fox exit. Each step is pretty cool.

38:35Each step is each step is demenendo of order. Each step is Nintendo. Demenuendo. Each step is a dementor. I fucking do declare. each step is taken from an entry in the Harry Potter series yeah this is the Deathly Hallows my friend he's like what yeah huh

39:15deminendo of order deminendo deminendo demin it's alright we see the word

39:29I raised my focus. There were indeed three tears that met me. The echoes of the recording climbed into triplicate and gathered at the feet of the figures on the roof. I studied their empty visages while the record gave off its warm crackle. It almost felt wrong when the architect's voice returned. You have no doubt marked those statues above you, but you must understand that they are not mere men. the ideas given limb and crown do not describe them faces a face weakens an idea oh okay fired up lord help your fucking your fingers and your thumbs man roll that putt around your hand must be exhausting you can alliterate you can talk about me enjoying a story without it being some masturbatory you didn't then change the sound you make because literally every time I'll be like, I'll say a face gives, like, what was the line that said?

40:28A face weakens an idea. And I literally just hear, it's not the noise I made. It's on recording. People can hear that's not the noise I made.

40:42It's not, I didn't sound like that at all, actually. Tonight, tonight, this is a horror story podcast. can a man enjoy a horror story okay this is what i mean you put me through happy happy your idea and you put me through uh just even during good stories like the the sitcom one where you are just hammering me about the lips and the dirt bike and then and then in this one it's a perfect story i'm wearing my thousand vulture shirt everything's going well and you just have to find a way to bully me and to wedge yourself in for some reason everyone i surround myself with in life bullies me and i don't know why i do that to myself everyone i keep close is rude to me why do i do that i will say i mean like you know i i feel you it is very good writing i will say you are hey you got two different colors of play-doh and you're rolling around your hand you can at least say that gross I felt as though more faces joined the congregation above the glass since a vertigo set over me at the mere scale your first hour will be simple you may now proceed to the dining hall do not hurry your place has been set to your measure there's a plate prepared for you you will be hot and fresh you will find the arrangement corrected to your liking and afterwards you will visit the bathhouse to the east to clean yourself.

42:07Uh-oh. Afterwards, you will visit the bathhouse to the east to clean yourself. Fresh towels await you on the bench. Your rope hangs within the chamber, which you will reach by following the eastward. The eastward guide walks when you return. I feel like I'm in a fucking video game. Does this feel like a video game or something? Yeah, it feels very... Exposition-y in a way that it's telling you the world and the map and shit. Like your objective, where to go and stuff like that. that when i'm thinking of the house it reminds me of uh in black ops 4 zombies there was a map called dead of night that was about like zombies in this giant old grand like great gatsby estate um it said like this curse come upon it so everything's like demented and changed so i'm kind of thinking of that some of the seems very clean it feel it's almost like a museum but you're the only one in it um there's something i was trying to think there's a story i remember i can't remember if it was a video game or what but there was some story i remember about a guy being in a large house and it was similar to this where he was getting directions of what to do and then at the end it turned out it was some abandoned rundown building but the illusion of it made him see it as a new house i can't remember what story that was but i don't think that'll be the twist here but It's just giving me reminiscence of it.

43:28Yeah, just making you think about it. Yeah. I took up my suitcase and put a foot on the first tile beyond the crescent. Mind yourself. The record said, curiously in time with my steps. You will feel alone. That's acceptable. The house approves of that feeling. Hot draft moved across my ankles. Ascend. The final ripple, almost like a chuckle laid beneath the static in a release. The machine fell still. I went on as directed 60 feet from the atrium's heart brought me to the stair bronze rail bit the palm with a friction. As I climbed somewhere at my back, a footfall followed me from the bottom of the staircase.

44:09I did not turn to see what had made it. Oh, that's so cool. It's like there's butlers and like things taking care of him every step of the way, but he's not supposed to see him. It's like, he's in a giant, um, what do you call those clocks where like there, there's the little wooden statues that come out on tracks and do stuff, you know, a cuckoo clock. The hour comes out a what a cuckoo clock. Yeah. Kind of like a cuckoo clock. There's like little wooden guys. It's like the whole mansion is one of those. Like as things need to be done, they come out, do their steps and then go back into hiding.

44:39And he's not supposed to look for them. Friday, October 24th, 1930 dining room and bathhouse. The quarter to the dining room ran close and spare at the end of its run. It opened all at once into a broad chamber. A lacquer table stood there. Linen bare of crumbs. Place set for one. I checked my watch. On the dot of six, the service door eased inwards somewhere out of sight. I turned toward the sound and waited. No figure came. When I faced the table again, steam braided up from a covered dish that had not been there an instant earlier. I raised the lid. Inside lay trout, lost with butter and salt.

45:21Beside it, a heel of fresh bread and a cup of coffee that carried the same fragrance of the freight station brew. I raised my chin and let the mystery server have their praise. This looks exceptional. Thank you, my friend. No reply came. Only the chandelier gave a faint sway as if something had skimmed across it on its way out. I don't like that. I don't like that. Excuse me. What do you mean the chandelier swayed? he's like 80 foot tall giant people serving him trout behind the scenes um he is remarkably cool with all this like food appears at the table in like impossibly fast time and he's like thank you my friend my extra dimensional representation in the darkness that's awesome and then it's just like he looks out the window there's like an 80 foot tall giant like tearing down trees he's like your trout is exceptional

46:28also i also i got a uh i got a drawing for you sorry that's why i've been a little preoccupied you don't have to see here's the here's the problem with streaming to the patreon you feel like you need to entertain them by um showing out by doing these little drawings it's going to be a drawing of me and it's going to be something it's going to be something absurd well this is just going to be for us this is we don't get you we don't even get to show this to them but i felt inclined this is how this is me are you ready to send it almost like two seconds it's gonna be you I guess we'll pause the story it's gonna be it's gonna be you reading the story so here we go that's probably okay enough it doesn't make a lot of sense but you might appreciate it for what it is

47:26did you get it?

47:34Every time you stop, I hope you realize that this is what I see.

47:52It doesn't help, too, that there's the Nikikato picture. Like, two posts about that.

48:03I'm speechless. I thought that you, I thought you'd like it. I don't know. You thought that I'd like this? I mean, I guess, I guess not. I don't know.

48:19Can you crop it? Can you crop that bottom half out so I can show the audience part of what you've done? He named the file putting around. I was going to see if you saw that.

48:38He named the file Puddin' Around. Puddin' Around.

48:48I'm not even playing with you guys watching this right now. I can't show this to you. It is exactly what you think. It's me bent over a table. He named the file Puddin' Around. It's me bent over a table. You're kind of bent. I've got one hand on the table. My other hand. You know, earlier today I was on TikTok and I saw a TikTok start and it was just a pair of lips with a little bit of hair on top of them and I knew it was about me. And sure enough, I listened to it was about me. That's the level of damage you've done to my reputation, to my character. Every time I draw you more though now, I feel like you become more and more caveman-like, if I'm being honest.

49:34I'm kind of out of my giant lip era, and I'm becoming more caveman, I feel like. Okay, here's a censored version for you guys.

49:48You have no idea how bad I want to animate the original drawing. And just do, oh my god, the alliteration on that is so good. I'm not being serious. don't just don't i can't this isn't funny anymore you know do you know because the way the way the meat canyon cartoons work is they're like vaguely based around some controversy a character's had or like something they've done in real life that's getting joked about so everyone's gonna see that it'd be like is windigoon like some like pervert like what yeah i'm like hold on kayla can you entertain chat for like three minutes while kayla needs help with the baby i think for a second sure okay one second talk to them that was my kid i'd fucking punt it like a nerf football if my woman tried interrupting my work oh my god don't get me started i would freak the fuck out i'd say hey i'm putting bread on the table that's what i'd say all right i'm back i ate each bite tasted as if it had been made a minute ago and no earlier its taste was immaculate seasoning knew its place the chair furthest from me creaked once as if a knee set against it in anticipation i kept to my place and finished folded the napkin the plate set bare i turned toward the service corners only a closed door met me.

51:18I weighed whether to wash the dish myself. When I faced the table again, the plate had vanished. You're clever, whoever you are, I said, and let out a curt laugh. I waited for a retreating tread. There was none, only the sound of wood settling in a pipe carting its contents off through the walls. I told my notebook that only an exceptional staff could perform to the minute like this. Then I told my mind they must use a trick of doors and serving apertures to keep from being seen. Most of all, I told my thoughts to keep close to center and not to let fear take me. I'd been provided an exact itinerary for a reason.

51:59I was in an orchestral play requiring precise timing. The actors clearly did not want to be seen and spoil the production. I would not rob them of that. The next cue sent me to the bathhouse. It's even creepier. I stood and left the dining room. Do what? Even creepier, just being like, you've come to terms with being like oh this is going to be a weird performance art thing you know that it's basically happening here and i don't i'm not going to be you know i'm not going to spoil the but just even the idea of going to the bathhouse and people are definitely going to be watching you at what point do you say that this is just a bit invasive or you know i mean like at what point it does the illusion of like this being curious break and you're like actually this is very fucking weird because i feel like that would have happened to me already i would It would have been long gone.

52:41The guy said the chandelier moved as if something had touched it. And he was just like, huh, that's kind of weird. And just kept going with it. So I think it takes a lot to break this guy. I mean, it's also like, you may assume that this is some famous guy with sensibility. So he wouldn't like prey on him while he's naked. But there are people around the corner. I do agree. He's not taking it for as creepy as he should. The next cue sent me to the bathhouse. I stood and left the dining room. I followed the marked path that led to the eastern wing. What opened ahead earned its own line in my future article.

53:16A covered way took me in. Glass panes formed a long throat of light, a kaleidoscope of late sun moving over the floor. Somewhere in the machinery of the place, a fan turned on. I could feel the warm air draw across my skin as if the house blew a sweet breath upon me. At the end of the walk, wasted the baths. The room presented itself as a gallery of chrome, Towels lay rolled in pairs with their edges aligned. Soap scored with the letters A and D lay on a dish by the trap. The tub ran the length of the room like a trough in a temple. Heat bulged from the water's surface with a white thread of vapor.

53:55I touched the surface with a finger and pulled back at once. Another man judged the heat for me, and his scale ran high. The water was near scorching to my skin. All right, old man. You mean for me to be comfortable, and I must say food was quite remarkable, but you severely misjudged the heat a man's body can take. This water is near boiling. The room echoed my remark two beats late, as if a second bather had repeated them from the far end of the tub. I surveyed the shining run of the tub and set my coat on the bench. It took me some time, but I cleaned myself proper. I dried myself with the towel that had been set for me The mirror above the counter showed a man's face resembling my own through the steam Though that man looked further aged and tired than I had last seen I tested my reflection and raised a brow The image matched, which settled the matter It confirmed the tired-looking man was indeed me At the edge of the silver backing of the glass lay an inscription a conqueror that eats all pageants that paid the house a courteous visit friday october 24th 1930 the bed chambers when i stepped back into the covered way the light had shifted toward late evening the house grew larger in the half dark its reach extended by the black of visible ends a trace of machine oil came through the vents from the generator below.

55:23The itinerary called for an early retirement. Cannot argue with that. Fatigue had settled on me like a commanding hand to the back of the neck. A door marked quarters stood at the far end of the passageway. Beyond it ran a wing of rooms. My name was printed on a small card near the frame of one of the doors. When I pressed my hand to the knob, the mechanism clicked once with a dry, satisfied sound. The hinges swung inward without complaint. I found the bedshamer prepared with the same meticulous precision that marked every room before it. The coverlet drawn flat as a sheet of paper. Two glasses on the nightstand filled to identical measure, one of water, one of milk.

56:07I smiled at the childish touch and spoke aloud. You have a keen sense for hospitality, old builder. A wardrobe door stood open. Within hung a robe that was of exquisite quality. Heavy weave. Red with a faint gray and black gleam along the lapels. I ran a hand along the sleeve. Warm and velvet. I left the bedroom door open behind me. I was not keen to seal myself into any room in this place. Yet the latch drew itself shut with a clean, polite click. I tried the handle. No give. Well. So much for free will. All right. Well, now, now I'm on board with you. He's way too chill with this. I mean, don't be wrong.

56:51I'm sure there's something where it's just like, you know, I mean, like how many warning signs has he had since then? I mean, he is completely driven by curiosity, but at what point, I mean, I'm just saying like in terms of me, like fight or flight, whatever I would, I feel like I would have freaked out a long time ago. Yeah. Well, I mean, now you're at the point where it's like, I am, um, I'm in someone's house and there's like ghost people in the walls and I'm now trapped in a bedroom. And his response is, well, so much for free will. It's like, yeah, dude, I guess so. I set an ear to the panel, nothing.

57:25I tried the knob again with more force, still nothing. I wanted a better look at my captor. I struck a match and lit the bedside lamp. Flames sparked. It was enough to show that the lock on the door was a simple contraption. Nothing more than a bolt worked from the outside. A trick of the staff, I reasoned. They mean to keep me from wandering the halls at night and discovering their little machinations. I decided to get comfortable for the night. I poured the water into the washbowl, stripped down into the dressing gown, and set to making my notes. The power source below sent a steady hum through the floorboards, deep, rolling draw and release like a beast at rest.

58:04At precisely nine, the hum changed pitch. I lifted my head and listened. The sound grew taut, as if the power were being choked away. The corridor light outside the chambers went dark. I crossed to the window and raised the blind. More lights died. Each going in perfect order across the estate. From my window, I could trace the progress in rows, moving east to west, each room blacking out as if some unseen crew moved wing to wing, extinguishing lamps by rule of measure. Who wants you down, house? I said to the glass. Not a single shadow crossed any window pane. When the last glow faded from the clorestory over the service wing, the generator gave one last groan and eased.

58:47The gravel court below turned to a blank field. No moon, no star. The manor held like a husk of a colossal shell. I set my palm to the glass. For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker along the far wing, a movement behind one of the blackened panes, but when I leaned closer, it proved only my reflection. Checked my watch. 9.30. In my last minutes awake, I wrote, Lights extinguished in perfect sequence. No staff scene. Possible mechanical control. This house sleeps with its guests. Man, this is so cool. Um, I thought I saw a flicker. he sees his flicker on the far wing. similar to where earlier he saw his reflection in the mirror and thought it was an older man but it proved to be himself maybe like once you're stuck in the house it's like a time thing right like that is him at a different point later on you know aged older forever trapped in the house yeah i made a hotel california joke earlier but it may actually be the hotel california you can check in anytime you like um or again we bring it up nearly every story but i am getting a little bit with the lines of the the motor underneath sounding like a beast a little bit of final prayer vibes just a touch you know maybe there is maybe this is some love craft entity maybe the house is alive maybe it's just monster house you know yeah i'm down for a monster house i'm down for monster house i love monster house movie's awesome saturday october 25th 1930 the north logia dawn came with the click of the latch door stood free i dressed packed the notebook set my mind to the day's work i stepped into the corridor gramophone waited on a rolling cart a typed card set under a silver clip please play upon waking all right let's hear it i wound the handle and lowered the needle.

1:00:56Belt took hold and the same measured tenor from orientation carried down the hall. Good morning, Mr. McCauley. Follow that. Follow the diagonal marker setting the baseboards to your next stop. Do not stray. When the lines meet, you will be where I need you to be. I lowered my focus. Dark inlays ran the length of the skirting, converging like rivers towards a single point. I set the cart in motion along their guidance, nodded to no one, and walked with my eyes set on the stones lift your head the record carried you are capable of dividing your attention let your direction be instructed by the manna the line under your feet is forgiven to anyone who is capable of listening i suppose i could use that forgiveness you and the rest of our species the record answered as if he had heard me through the horn

1:01:54huh that's kind of weird let's see what the subreddit has to say about this one okay hold on a second did you just hear me talk guys this is kind of weird though anytime one of the secret butler people's behind him he's like it's right behind me isn't it corridor widened into the north lachia long gallery of columns and windows that set the grounds in a frame. The cart could not go farther. The second gramophone waited on a marble plinth by the first column in the gallery. I crossed to it and set its needle down. Do you see it? The record asked me. Stand at the seam where the floor pattern meets.

1:02:34From there, turn toward the panel with a small brass latch. I found the seam. The floor showed two mosaics pressed edge to edge, each pulling the eye in contrary directions until they resolved to a single band, a brass latch weighted in the wall at a chest height. I flipped the mechanism. A concealed panel slid back to show a shallow bay filled with bakelite levers. Warm air fluttered the fine dust within. A switchboard. The record intoned. A house is a machine. A machine must be spoken to. Each lever is a word. Say the right word and the house moves as you command it. I leaned closer. the so-called board was not merely wires and screws copper paths ran in narrow veins that bent and looped with a purpose i could not parse curved cables interlaced with tiny crossings then sudden angles that met and parted like fish had aware between the traces tiny marks repeated and grew grammar of hooks and circles stokes crossed at angles not used in any alphabet i knew the past nodded at black studs then unwound to a comb of steel teeth that vanished into the wall the intricacy of this system of circuits superseded any article i had ever read on the matter the schematics very nearly came across as drawings rather than advanced engineering i narrowed my focus and tried to follow a single strand from stud to tooth it led me into a wire figure that was neither star nor wheel some union of both the longer i looked The more it felt as if something looked back at me through the copper.

1:04:13Do you employ a maid to speak for you? Or do you personally skulk this house flipping its switches, Mr. Deloyer? I asked the room. Gallery answered with a single click somewhere above. Soft thrum heaved and strained from the walls. The glass beads on the switchboard winked at me with a red light. Gramophone continued. Leave the circuses you found them and proceed to the northern stairs to make your descent. Do not take the lift. The next vigil will be outside. A shadow shifted at the end of the lagia, and a lift door parted of its own accord. The cart waited with its gate open, empty as a mouth that expected food.

1:04:52Its cage lights flickered in a rhythm that matched the lights of the board. I said the stairs. Laurier's recorded tenor repeated. The lift is for the others. The gate slid shut again without a hand. The car sank. I found the stairs and began to descend. At the first landing, I paused. A handrail ran along the wall. When I set my skin upon it, the metal had a trace of heat as if a palm had just left it. There's someone working up here with me. I would like if you showed yourself. Somewhere within the wall, a long muscle of piping gave a satisfied groan. Oof. Is it, man? Oof. Gosh, I love it. So that description of the wires being bent into shapes that he, not in the alphabet he knows of, that almost reminds me of that whole, again, going to the triangles outside and like possibly demonic or like, you know, spiritual imagery.

1:05:48Um, that almost sounds to me like runes or like the coppers arranged in light. You remember, I think I've talked on this podcast before the idea that like technology and wires and stuff is basically sigils and like electricity and things like that come from us. Yeah. Yeah. like circuit boards are basically like runic marks to call upon like, um, uh, extra dimensional demons or entities and stuff like that. So the description of the walls and like the house speaking to him almost implies that that's how this place is ran. It's like tapped into the other side of the veil. The whole house itself is like an altar.

1:06:24Almost Saturday, October 25th, 1930 the grounds left by the Northern gallery and stepped into the grounds. A gramophone waited in a weathered hood, a birdhouse with a black tulip for a beak. I wound the crank. The belt steadied. The even tenor came bright and sure. Attend the skin of my creation. Paws, ducts, gutters, valves. Observe the reflecting pool and the channel that feeds it. You will find no waste here. Only transit. I took the flag to walk along the basin. The pool carried the manor on its face and broke only when a gust passed against it like a patient knife. Beneath the rim, small slots drank the overflow at each pass of a wave.

1:07:09The hooded horn addressed me again from its post. After all, hydrology is discipline. Old Rome did not conquer with sword alone. I was to do as much as spears. The voice cracked and died. At the far end, a second hooded gramophone stood beside a square pump house of poured walls and a steel door. The record resumed when I wound the next handle. You are the pump. Beneath you the veins take rain, melt in groundwater, and move across the estate. Where you are here is perfectly balanced throughput. The one you bathe in, the one you drink, all purified through the bowels of this house. I opened the pump house doors and surveyed the room.

1:07:53The interior contained multitudes of cages blinking with endless needles. Pipes ran their way down into the ground. I stepped out to look beneath the foundation, where a stone culvert ought to spill. The streambed was dry. White pebbles lined the channel like a rinsed throat left without water. Yet the path gutters at my feet clicked with a scatter of drops. Tick, tick, tick. Where do you steal this water from? I asked the soil. The gravel offered no answer beyond a small complaint under my foot. Now, stand at the next mark of stone. The Scorchial Court awaits. I stepped forward. The path carried beyond the eastern wing, down a flagstone staircase and across a shallow terrace where warmth rose again from unseen vents.

1:08:44The woods ringed the property at a respectful distance. I followed the markers set into the paving until I reached a brass plaque that read simply, court of figures another gramophone waited beneath an overhang here the house reveals what it dreams of when it sleeps each shade was drawn from the image that kept me awake the longest i walked the court while he spoke in the center stood 12 statues each caught between poise and torment their bodies were built of brass onyx and some darker alloy that refused to gleam even under the noon light. Each one caught in an attitude of movement, yet none appeared to move in the same direction nor toward the same end.

1:09:24Some reached skyward with stretched limbs, others bent as if burdened by an invisible weight. Their faces were featureless masks drawn in long, perfect planes. The light touched their edges like a wound cauterized in gold. They rose at least twice the height of any man known in the world. The Laurier's voice continued. When I first saw them in my mind, they were aflame. Not burning, but bright with knowledge. I have tried to shape that light here in hopes they may share some grand insights with those who view them. Wind swept through the court and gave the statues a faint groan, metal shifting on its base.

1:10:04I took a step nearer to one and saw that beneath the polish of its chest, the seams seemed to ripple, as if something moved under the skin of the metal, trying to make room for error. I have stood here many evenings. The longer one looks, the more certain one becomes that they have not seized their work. It is amusing, you know, that we call them sculptures because they do not move. But I counter that thought. Perhaps they only wait for a proper invitation. And what invitation is that? Sound answered. not from the horn but from the cord itself a faint creak of settling bronze brush of grit where nothing had stepped when i turned one of the figures had shifted only a fraction its chin tipped lower toward the paving the light bit differently across its cheek told myself it was heat or the play of shadow even so when i left i kept my back to the court of statues and did not look again until i reached the safety of the terrace

1:11:10he is he has put together these like these statues based on something he said he'd seen so you know creatures spirits or whatever and now he's given them life they're probably what's given him the power to create this place and i guarantee the reason that he's only speaking through the uh the gramophone is because he's become a part of them like he's effectively been dragged down to the creatures he created i was gonna say it seems like it seems like a man talking from the beyond or whatever it's kind of interesting because it sounds like almost like a ghost like having like a new groundskeeper or something it's like that intimate and like i don't know it's very interesting yeah yeah man the idea of the statues he's like when i saw them they're beautiful and i've tried to recreate them and probably by recreating them is what did the like the ritual quote-unquote that gave these things life they're probably what led to this place being abandoned and all the the captive workers it's why at the end it says stay i imagine he's never gonna leave saturday october 25th 1930 i just noticed by the way it took me this long but he posted this in r slash creepcast which is pretty cool that's pretty sick the second night's rest the afternoon's rounds ended at the gallery door where a fresh card waited in the same tidy hand as the others.

1:12:26Supper at seven. Took the corridor that kept the day's last light and reached the dining room. The lacquered table waited. Chandeliers cupped their bulbs in white bowls of glass. The tablecloth lay stretched tight enough that it would sing if a coin ran across it. Vapor rose from a covered plate at the head of the table. I raised the lid. Prime rib, sliced thick and red. Spoon of potatoes, dark gravy with a harbor sheen. A cup of tea stood steady beside it. I tried once more to catch the staff at work. Friend? I said, pitching my voice to the corners. Let me thank you in person. You've prepared another outstanding meal.

1:13:08Timber eased under a draft and offered nothing else back. I ate at an easy pace. The dish held the same impossible freshness, as if the stove lived inside the table. when I lifted the napkin a printed slip slid free retire at 8 I checked the watch my bed chambers were already calling I heeded the note and returned to the quarters that bore my name the chamber admitted me this time the door did not wait before closing behind my back the latch drew shut almost at once after I crossed the threshold I tried the knob knowing I would not like the result as expected no purchase very well Well, we ought to repeat the same experiment for a second night.

1:13:52I lit the lamp and set my notebook on the desk. I began writing about the day I had just experienced. The generator's lament once more spoke through the floorboards as the lights around the manor began fading. The machine gave the steady animal murmur of a draft horse and harness. Then the pattern changed. A soft roll came along the hall, the faint scrape of a cart. It paused outside my door and came to a perfect rest. A heartbeat later, a gramophone woke with the belt's small bite and the horn spoke. It was not with words, but with a noise that had no business in a human corridor. What rose was a rehearsal of noises that a man does not care to name.

1:14:33Yet I must. Voices gathered, huddled together, not speaking any tongue I knew. children at a schoolyard heard through a long pipe a woman laughing until the sound broke a man counting but the numbers arrived out of order and then ran backward each noise overlapping yet distinct a mass of individuals clawing for their own attention i set my forearm to the panel as if to brace the door enough i said meant it you have made your point the horn replied by pulling everything down at once. The pulse sank as if the floor had dropped away. Into the fall came a choir without words, mouths open, throats desert dry.

1:15:14A chorus of mouth sounds rose to the wet clack of lips trying on words that did not fit. A scrape crossed the door, frantic and searching, as though the horn had growed a probe tip and a nail that sought an audience with me. Enough! By all that is holy, I said enough! Static swelled. chair creaked on the other side needle skated and silence cut clean the hall returned to the old stone after some minutes I steadied my thinking I set notes in order trimmed the lamp and lay atop the cover lay with my boots on I kept the lock in sight the earth outside pressed its face to the pane somewhere a pipe clicked as it cooled I heard only the soft grind of the earth under the foundations the house had settled i did not sleep eventually came for me despite my protest gosh man so sick there's so many there's so many different elements like it kind of sounds like uh it sounds like uh the part of you know uh it's like when fucking dracula asked the uh the guy to come in and like now he's being seduced by vampires and stuff but it also has like remnants of like poe of like house of usher or something like that there's so many different kinds of uh so many different flavors that i'm you know getting with this story it's very interesting do you think so that almost sounds like punishment like he did something wrong so now it's threatening him with like the voices of all those who have trapped or letting him hear hell or something like that and he's like enough you've made your point clear did he do anything wrong or anything to warrant that i think he's i think he's just staying but also to be fair he's done he's bending the rules a bit he keeps like he keeps talking to the staff he's done other things like he hasn't looked back but i do think also just by staying there longer and longer he's going to be more subjected to whatever's looking inside yeah i think maybe it's kind of like he's he's getting close so now it's coming to him and it's letting him hear sounds of people maybe all the people it owns or spirits it possesses and then it's i love that description a course of mouth sounds rose to a wet clack of lips trying on words that did not fit it sounds almost like a skinwalker-esque like you know things trying to sound human so it's like they're like if the sound before is the spirits of people that are entombed there then that's the sound of the statues right the greater the demons or the things that play that makes us come to be I don't know if it's necessarily skinwalkers as much as I'm reading as like almost speaking in tongues or like not well by skinwalker I meant the tone people typically attribute to skinwalkers right okay like that kind of speak that yeah not literally skinwalkers just the sound yeah that kind of thing like like it's things trying to speak without really understanding what speaking is you know yeah like a husk of a man exactly god help me exactly kind of like uh someone imitating oh yeah exactly husk of a man of like i i think that they keep reading as like dead entities it seems like it i mean like i don't know if you feel the same way but it seems like he's going to be added to the staff at the end he's being indoctrinated to all of their practices to where when the time comes, he's going to be like a groundskeeper as well.

1:18:25Or just like a helper. Yeah. You know? Yeah. He's going to be consumed by this thing, this place. Yeah, for sure. Gosh, man, the story's so good. All right. Uh, well, part two, part two, Sunday, October 26th, 1930, the living manor. Oh, let's go baby. Let's go baby. All right. I woke to a sound. I had not heard since Friday. the common music of a lived-in home water ran in the pipes a cartwheel murmured down a corridor somewhere a kettle sang i lay still and listened the hush of careful staging had lifted and with it the dream of a museum kept by ghost finally parted i readied for the day and stepped through the threshold the estate did indeed bear life within it outside a window showed two gardeners crossing the far terrace with rakes slung along their backs, boots printing the gravel still wet from night air.

1:19:22Inside, a porter passed through the hall with folded linen. Good morning, sir. Said a steward at my elbow. His coat was dark and well-brushed. Breakfast is being prepared for you. I fought a laugh. Well, aren't you welcome, side? He gave the smallest bow. I'm pleased to hear that, sir. Please, come this way. As we walked, he kept pace beside me. The steps a half step out of rhythm as if learning a gate long rehearsed in theory and never performed. Oh, oh, see stuff like that. Little things like that give the implication like maybe these aren't people. Maybe they're things just trying to be people.

1:19:58But is like the way he says it long rehearsed, but never performed tells everything. It's been an empty house. They've been expecting company, but they've never had to walk before. But now they do. Oh, man. Forgiven and pertinent question. Where were you all yesterday? Preparing, sir. For what? For today, sir. I was beginning to think the house was empty. He said after your time. I regret to say your inkling was wrong, sir. We were here listening to you. Listening? He cast a look toward the stairwell. Of course, sir. You spoke to us. What do you mean? When one speaks, one is heard. You were never alone.

1:20:47We valued your kind remarks and cannot wait for you to join us this evening. And here I thought I was just speaking to empty halls. Why, if I may ask, appear now, but not before. Paused at the landing. It was desired. By whom? By those who serve. We have not been seen for a long time. We expressed our desire to attend you in person. we found great enjoyment in hearing the sounds of a guest and the master approved of this deviation trace of light reached his eyes like the flame of a fever he was persuaded sir great works are often amended by necessity and passions so it helped that you sought us out first oh man okay so because he called out what a little fucking creepy bastard and a little creepy fuck walking around like that.

1:21:42Well, yeah, he's like a demon or like some spirit or something like a little fucking gnome. I keep just mentioning like a gnome with a full fucking like tent pitched right there. He's just like, you called to us and when we answered, it's like, you look like a little tripod. Thank you, sir.

1:22:00Why are you a foot and a half tall? It's like, I'm actually the tallest of my species, sir. Yeah, sir. So because he called out like with the compliments about the food and stuff like that the house answered but he wasn't supposed to do that and with the record playing the night before i feel like it's a bad thing that he sees everyone now right has to be it's like okay you want to see what's behind the veil here you go and now he can never leave yeah this this is this again last time i'll say it this is the plot of the song by the eagles hotel california and that's okay it's a good song like the idea of a mysterious manner you check into with spirits that you are trapped there i like that um but this is hotel california which is good i like i like both those things so check your discord i really this is do what check your discord really good he's sending the image of me bent over the table like at least two dozen times

1:23:03as as a friend as a friend and a business partner i'm asking that this picture does not see the light of day is not it's not because if anyone sees a meat canyon drawing of me doing that it'll immediately become what did he do and the answer is nothing besides this podcast which Might have been a mistake, but here we are. Just in the middle of me, like just going on about how beautiful this is and the writing style and stuff. You're just sending me a drawing. You realize how weird of a relationship this is? You could just draw me doing that. And then no one else has that interaction with people.

1:23:44You can do that to me if you want. That's such... What? You can do it to me if you want. I can't do that. Sure you can. I can't do that.

1:23:53I can't. I can't.

1:23:57Actually, I was going to do something as a bit, but I don't have a pen around me, so never mind. No, I can't. I have no ability to draw. I let the mystery go. Coffee floated up the stairs, and with it the light salt, broiled fish, and the sweet tank of fresh fruit. He guided me to the dining room. The vases along the sideboard held fresh plants and stems, their leaves still wet. Please, Stuart said, drawing a chair. And if you'd like your morning paper. He set a folded broadsheet by my cup. The masthead was from Albany and bore yesterday's date. I saw an article from Denton advertised on the front page.

1:24:34A woman in gray set down a dish in front of me. If you require another egg, she said, ring once. Her vowels were neat and her attention was fixed on the rim of the plate. I thanked her. She bowed and went. I ate like a man found exonerated on all charges. This manner makes for some strange bedfellows. I said, with a mouth full of sugared fruit. Sir? That wasn't meant to be an insult. You keep good order. That is the intention. Will the master join us at any point today? I've yet to meet the man who invited me. He opened his shirt pocket and reached inside. An embossed cream card lay within, the letters raised in sober black.

1:25:17He offered it to me. Your invitation, sir. It read, This evening in the Great Salon at eight o 'clock. The torennial procession will be presented. Your attendance is no longer requested as a mere journalist, but as a proper tenant of this estate. A.D. I touched the card. I turned the card. I got you just like, you're no longer work for anyone. You live here now. It's pretty much what that reads like. You're stuck here forever. So good luck. See, maybe it's like, maybe it's dimensional, right? Because he slept there that night. He heard the things. And now he's in the other plane where the workers are.

1:25:53So this is what it always looks like. but to the new guests those who arrive from our world they're invisible it's just happening around them also his initials being ad is like you know anno domini year of our lord after death kind of thing too after death yeah so it kind of goes back to that idea that maybe he is in a not really not to say that um Delorier is time or immortal or something like that but it gives the idea that he is all encompassing right yeah I turned the carton and felt the bite of the letters against my skin at last a point toward which all this is marched as you say sir will there be many in attendance all who serve he answered which I took to mean the entire staff and the house shall attend too I said half in jest ghost of a smile touched his mouth the house is always present I bet it is he stepped back and let two porters pass with a folded carpet between them both sharing its weight behind them came a boy with a box of bulbs wrapped in paper and tied with string took the sights in and felt ease move through me to a sense of safety in the company of others Sunday October 26th 1930.

1:27:19The library and workroom. When I finished eating, my plate was taken without flourish. Another cup of coffee was prepared for me at my right hand. The steward waited until I had emptied my second glass before asking, Would you care to walk the room, sir? All of our staff are allowed entry. I suppose I would. I stirred for my seat. That sounds like a wonderful gift. We set out on our tour. The library opened like a great chamber carved from ember. Green glass lamps cast their calm over the reading tables. Shelves rose from floor to ceiling. Each tier numbered in gilded characters that caught the light.

1:27:55The latter waited among them. Wheels chalked in place. Between the shelves hung framed blueprints of bridges, arches, and grid cities drawn in heavy ink. Even though every shelf stood full, nothing felt random. Upper tiers held architecture, city planning, hydraulics. the middle ranks turned stranger with titles such as treaties on natural order structures of elysian design magnetism and manifestation on the lowest shelf a set of volumes in tarnished leather bore single embossed title mechanics of deform adaptation their spines carry diagrams of orbits and cogs the master read from those the most often imported from munich i believe deform adaptation so like the forms of deity like how to change them he reads that one okay he reads that one all the time really he likes to read that one and float in the garden and uh what anyway these uh this is the coffee machine i set a finger to the edge of one of their covers binding held warmth the lamp above gave a little heat drew back uneasy at the sensation.

1:29:04Good lord, he has cataloged creation itself. The steward gave no reply, but his attention lingered on the books as if to confirm my exaggeration. Beside a writing desk resided a small lectern. Upon it rested a chained tome of heavier make than the others. Its title read, Muric Tables of the Ninth Configuration. I turned a page and met with the same drawings I had seen behind the wall panel. Lattice diagrams of motion and spiraling currents rendered in metallic prose. Each depiction labeled with symbols from no language I knew. Between the lines ran faint notations of ideal temperatures and prime decibel rates.

1:29:46The master crafted that text himself. He called it his great magnum opus. He says it showed the same order that guides both Adam and Empire. I was just gonna say, what's it about? it's kind of funny just like it guides adamant empire oh yeah really what is it about it was what's that that sounds cool he saw earlier i mean along with all the supernatural things he's seen but he saw earlier this configuration of wires that was a language he couldn't perceive and now he sees in like the ghost book room that he has nine tables of these which nine tries nine goes back to like trinity symbolism like threes and triangles and stuff like that so he has like this occult book that is these unspeakable shapes and designs that control everything from adams to empires and he's like oh really so like is there like pictures and stuff is it like a story i followed the ink line by line what is it about the stewards studied the text without a change of face.

1:30:49The study of language, I believe. The master held that small, held that small in that vast share of single alphabet. He called it the law of resemblance. Thought the same grammar could guide living engines. Oh. Living engines? The difference between faith and voltage is smaller than most care to see. Oh. Oh. You know what? Draw the picture of me. I don't care. That line at every, okay, I've talked about this concept like a dozen times on the show before, like how cool it is to think that like electricity was ran by like spiritual stuff, perfectly encapsulated in the sentence. The difference between faith and voltage is smaller than most care to see.

1:31:30That's so good. That's so good. That hits so hard. Oh my gosh. I'm fired up. I'm excited. This is, this is the most removed from happy. Happy. We can possibly be. I got, I got to say, I got to say, to be honest with you, so far this is like just the tone, the setting the writing and all that, this is one of my favorite stories we've read on the show I think Mother Horse Eyes is still my favorite I think and that's going to be a hard one to beat but this is getting me it's got my goat pretty good right now so and the idea of like he figured out the reason he's so powerful is because he figured out like uh this secret hidden thing that these spirits gave to him long ago and he's tried to recreate it and he's almost like a prophet writing down the symbols that control everything and it's allowed him to create this living house this extra dimensional space and the statues that he builds is him trying to build like effigies of them to try to give them life again but they can't have a face like ah i trace the outline of one sigil with the oh i said sigil earlier too man i just bear trapped this whole thing so hard.

1:32:46I am awesome. I traced the outline of one sigil with the barrel of my pen. It resembled a circuit's spine, yet its pattern held the balance of a cathedral plan. There was beauty in it, along with something that repelled my eye. I looked toward the shelves again. Certain books bore no titles. May I see one of the unnamed writings? He considered for a moment. I drew a single volume free and set it on the table. You may read what is written, but you may not speak the words aloud. The words are meant only for the master's mouth. The pages held mechanical sketches that seemed to shift under the lamp.

1:33:21Some represented tools while others proposed devices of unclear purpose. Among them stood human figures composed of gears and valves, limbs rendered in cross sections where their hearts were placed by spoils of copper wire. Let's go, baby. Mechs. Necro-mechs. People, like he figured out how to use wires to control So all the stuff behind the scenes is like mechanized people. That's literally house of the worm. The thing I said earlier, the SCP I like so much. That's the idea that people were like converted into machinery. Necro Ava Galion meme. Yes. Yeah. Gosh, that goes so hard. He figured out how to get the, the, like how to use these mechanics and these shapes to bring life into copper, like how to use voltage to create a living house.

1:34:11and he put it inside of people to make these puppeteered like steampunk zombies. That is so cool. This story is so cool. Oh my gosh.

1:34:25I closed the cover and stepped back. Stuart returned it to the shelf. The master read here at night. He preferred the quiet hours of the evenings. He read more than he slept. I must say, this is a different house than the one I walked last night. it is the same house only seen in different light man bear trap again i am i am okay yes so it's like it's the same house they were always there but he was just in a different dimension or a different plane and couldn't see what was happening around him but now he's with them he's in the he's in the space he's a part of it and i don't think he can leave he stepped aside and let me through we passed the court windows and i looked out upon the 12 statues in the garden.

1:35:08No statue had shifted. The brass giants kept their places. For the first time since Friday, it truly came to me that the last two days might indeed have been a careful spectacle. A simple long curtain raised, designed to sharpen the appreciation of a very private pageant. Stuart halted at a plain door at the end of a corridor. Its brass knob was unadorned, faintly tarnished where Yusin marked it. Would you like to see the workroom, sir? It is not often shown even to servants, though the master has granted us permission. Very much so. He unlocked the narrow door with a small-toothed key. The air within carried a scent of graphite and sweat.

1:35:48The room stood vast and high, lit by a single glass skylight veined with steel. Drafting tables stood against the walls. Pencils lay where they had fallen, compasses set open across sheaves of linen paper. some patterns around the room repeated the same sigils i had seen in the limerick tables only here they were drawn with a deeper intention across the room set of glass tubes ran from floorboard to ceiling filled with the liquid metal that moved at the base small pistons pulsed along their links keeping the substance in slow circulation the light that passed through them carried the same color as the manor circuits he used mercury he used mercury as a conductor he keeps the thoughts of the house connected to will of his hand the thoughts the master believed that if a structure could be made precise enough thought would follow a perfect ratio invites a perfect mind thus he made this thus he made this manna oh my god thus he made this manna of vessel bro he is going at the end the master killed himself or whatever and now he is the house it's the monster house it's monster house It's monster house with flesh puppet people and like forbidden sigils and like things that speak without speaking and see without seeing.

1:37:09I walked to the central platform. There, a great table stood ringed by iron lamps with shades blackened by dust. Upon its surface rested a full scale model of the manor. The details struck me dumb for a beat. every corner and recess every window and parapet had been rendered with the jeweler's care even the courtyard figures stood where they should fixed in their miniature devotions but what surrounded the manor silenced me further the forest was gone and its place rose a vast city of angles and towers bridges arched in strict repetition roads formed concentric rings that drew toward the center.

1:37:51I leaned closer. Thin wires wound through the model's base, twisting in strange loops. The manor stood at the heart of the circuitry. The steward folded his hands at his waist. He called this his rehearsal of the world to come. He believed this house would be the newest creation of a grand design, a gateway to cities thought unimaginable. The longer I studied the city, the more its impossibility showed. Streets folded into one another, becoming corridors without entry or end. Where would a man walk in such a place? He would not walk, sir. He would circulate. He would be provided only what he needs to function.

1:38:32Beneath the table, the machinery stirred. A pulse of light moved through the copper and up into the city. One tower flickered, then another, until the low glow spread outward like a dawn through fog. The illumination reached the manor's model and held it in a halo. I stood astonished at the glowing city. You've done well. I told the steward and meant it. The show has been spectacular. We endeavor to please, sir. Just remember, eight o 'clock you are expected. Until then, the estate is at your disposal. We left the room as we found it. The key turned. The breath of graphite and caisson stayed behind the door.

1:39:16all afternoon, the house wore its best manners. I like to think, I like to think that the house is like almost breathing, like almost like through the house, instead of there just being absolute silence, you just, you can kind of hear like a, or, you know what I mean? Like just some kind of like, almost like the, not that the walls are moving, but just the, the faintest sound of like a breath or something. Yeah. It's like the, the house itself. Yeah. It's, he's in the house, but it's like in this panorama, he's almost in the city. Like it's this, he's creating a body for himself. This giant structure that goes on and on and on.

1:39:51Gosh, it's so cool. Man, this is so cool. I'm fired up. Okay. All right. Well, here we are at the pageant. Here we go. Are you ready, Hunter? Let's do it. Sunday, October 26th, 1930. The pageant. I spent the early hours before eight in ordinary pleasure. In a small sitting room, I found a tray of little cakes, sugar just enough to catch the light i ate one and let a laugh slip out in another life i might have stayed and written a polite column about a fine estate and that's so weird like where because at the beginning of this he was just coming to write about the house write about the guy scene and now it's so much more now it's the immortality through machines turning yourself into the house turn yourself into circuits made of faith and uh i made past with the tray of small glasses.

1:40:43Cider, sir. Gladly. I said and took one. Tasted like an entire orchard held within a single glass. At a quarter before eight, the steward met me outside the great salon. If you would. He said, smooth in his coat. Several seams had darkened and appeared singed and rewoven. Paid it no mind and I chose not to break the spell. I bet underneath the coat he's one of the automatons. Yeah, a million percent. He's definitely like a scorched piece of like machinery. yeah this kind of reminds me of the ending of church in the woods or spire in the woods remember oh yeah with the uh with the like ballerina automaton yeah yeah the people that got turned into the clockwork machines and stuff like that yeah ahead the salon had been set as a theater chairs stood in ranks each aligned to face a stage chrome lamps climbed in tears the reflective shades raised a white shimmer that settled like stars across the ceiling workers and servants filled and wearing pressed uniforms buttoned with small moons.

1:41:44A curtain at the far end of the stage held my sight. A fall of dark, glassy cloth, not velvet, some soft skin that drank in the light but kept its sheen. Above it, a familiar crest showed two wings nested in a triangle worked in gold thread. The steward led me to his seat at the center. The master will attend shortly. Will the master be speaking? A courteous curve touched his expression. The corners of his lips parted like cracked paper. He raised a forefinger as if to test for rain, then lowered it with a satisfied nod. He's here. The lamp stemmed. From the wings of the room, a hush moved in like a tide.

1:42:23Then he came. The architect walked out from the wing like a depiction from a drawing. He stood tall and exact, coat cut to a blade, hair white as ground salt. He did not hurry. Nothing in him hurried. When he halted at the center of the stage, the room seemed to lean forward an inch. My friends, he said, his voice as clear as a bell. You have labored with me through seasons of frost and mud. You have kept the shine where it belonged and taken the dust from where it did not. I promised you a complete work. Three years ago I delivered it. Tonight, I would deliver it again. He raised a hand towards the great window above him.

1:43:05and its glass blackened to keep out the sky. This is our night. Many years ago we opened our sight for the first time. You sat where you sit now, each of you faithful to my word. That night our world was opened up to the world of dreams. It lasted for only a mere instant. And in that moment, we had been viewed with approval. A ripple moved the crowd, his hands opened as if presenting a blueprint before the sun. For seven years before that night I walked in the city of dreams only in my sleep. Its streets ran beneath my eyelids, its towers rose and the pulses behind my eyes. I wandered there where my body lay still in this world.

1:43:50I saw patterns that no ruler could measure, lines that knew where they must go before any hand could guide them. From that city I learned proportion beyond reason, and from its grit I drew the lifeblood that gave this place its existence. Every wall you touch, every stair you climb, speaks in the language of dreams." He paused. The lamp surged, a glow deepening to a vivid gold. I did not work alone. As you know, a hand guided me. Not a hand of flesh, a hand of sovereignty. An emperor that knows how to rule a city without speaking, it placed its hand upon me and moved my tools until they obeyed its rhythm.

1:44:38It taught me to build as the heart builds, to thread the house with nerves of copper and iron until it could remember the dream from which it came. This is not sorcery. This is order. The law of pattern brought to completion. I call this manna the Aperture, which touches the land of my dreams. I once more bestow this manna with the same name I see written on the walls behind my eyelids. Attend. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. The curtain to his back rose without rope or pulley. Behind it, a pillar stood revealed, taller than two men and wider than a carriageway. A span forged of brass and panes of dark glass with the depth of water.

1:45:28A lintel carried tall letters that seemed to move while standing still. I read the word and scribed upon it twice before my mind accepted it. Pandemonium. Oh. Oh, gosh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh, Hunter. Oh. It's sick. it's very sick dude it's really good it's so good it's so good pandemonium the name of the city of the devils from um um paradise lost when the devil brought the demons to hell he named it pandemonium all chaos chaos rules in latin oh he was in his dreams he was a famous architect who had influence and power. So the devils or the spirits reached out to him and showed him visions of things he couldn't understand, but they were too beautiful to turn away from.

1:46:28In his sleep, he was shown curves and architecture and order. And because of that, he used all of his power to build a house that was a Ouija board, a giant summoning stone to bring these things in the world. And he tries to give them shape. And that shape is these giant brass statues without faces. It's the effigy for these demons that brought him this place. And now he has performed their goal and used his house as a ritual, used his power to create circuitry that has life, forms that they can speak through, ways for them to interact with the world. He's effectively turned his house and this imaginary city around him into a poltergeist for these things.

1:47:10He has brought pandemonium from hell to earth. And he thinks it's in the name of power, in the name of greatness, things to rule empires, not realizing that maybe the things that rules empires and guides man's hand is evil.

1:47:27Okay.

1:47:31So, so mother horse eyes is like still, it just did so much, right? And it took its time and weaved it together. I still think it's my favorite, but if this pulls this off at the end, this might be my second. Oh, Oh, it's the name is pandemonium. Oh, okay. Oh, all right. You know, it's funny because in the beginning you were making the jokes about me with the drawing and stuff like that. And it was like kind of he, he, ha ha then, but now it's just, now it's not even a joke. No, no, I know you got, you have full ropes and spider webs in your pants for sure. Motherfucker's got the whole entire novel of Charlotte's web right there in his pants right now.

1:48:10I get it. I fully understand. Okay. With that word, the heat rose at once. Cloth stuck at the small of my back. Air drew toward the pillar and took the air from my lungs. The lamps brightened until they sang. I turned to take in the room as a whole. The audience had changed while I had attended the speech. Faces I once considered handsome now drew tight. Mouths had been pulled back. Teeth showed like exposed hardware. A footman near the aisle buckled backwards at the knees yet kept standing. Meanwhile, a maid next to him had her skin begin blistering in bubbles across her cheeks. No one screamed, though several mouths opened and did not close.

1:48:55The sound that came out of them was from a parched choir, a gathering of throats without water. Fingernails blackened before me, vapor climbed from skin. The steward who had seated me went to both knees. He slithered on the ground with a grace that would have pleased a dancer. A seam along his collar had parted and exposed a ribbon of copper laid against his throat. It flickered under the light like a small fish beating against a net. He pressed the seam closed with his palm and kept to his dance. Do not be afraid. Step through and be made equal step through and be made equal to yourselves his hand cut a narrow path in the air what you mistake for torment is only the shedding of variance what you call death is only a species of waste the city allows for nothing to be wasted three years ago you were shown the first light tonight you will walk within it step through and be made equal to yourself So it's like the human distinctions, differences between people is condensed down to like code, right?

1:50:06You all become one flesh. You return to the collective, right? You all become exactly the same as tools for this machine, a vehicle for consciousness. It's also the note of the guy slithering away. At the end of Paradise Lost, all the demons and pandemonium are turned into snakes. As punishment from God, they're all made to slither across the ground. So now this is almost like they're reckoning, right? They see it as a gift, but this is their torment, finally. The thing that they've asked for being made to be. Glass in the high window gave way with a cough. Shards and soot fell over the ranks.

1:50:41The architect smiled. Along the line were gum-met tooth when a deep charred color of coal. People of the work, the gate is open. People of the work. Oh, what a good boy. What a cool word. What a cool word for the people that have built hell on earth. Oh, that's so cool. A woman by the aisle turned her face. Skin in her neck parted like paint on a hot pipe. She did not falter. She moved for the pillar. Her joints were answering a lesson rehearsed for another stage and another body. Oh my God. Am I, am I, is this not bro? like just just like i need you to nerd out with me a little bit i mean it's good i'm just it's very it's very hard it's like it's a coming competition you have an entire i mean caked pants i mean it's it is it's awesome i'm enjoying it in my own way i'm just not like i'm not i need you i need you to freak out a little bit just just like the way her body is It's moving.

1:51:49Thank you. There you go. That's what I want. That's what I want. Thank you fucking God. Okay. So. Oh, fuck. Yeah. Oh, fuck. It can't stop. Oh, fuck. Trolley horse. Trolley horse. Ah. Oh, fuck. Ah. Ah.

1:52:39I'll have what she's having.

1:52:49Well done. Thank you.

1:52:57Several others fell in behind her, their open mouths bobbing with each step. Sir? I said to the steward at my side, though his pupils clouded to ash. We must leave. His mouth widened and held. At the base of his ears set a wheel no wider than a coin, turned one notch and stopped with a click. and that tick I met with the truth that I had refused to name. They were not servants in the old sense. They were living machines. Kept, repaired, set to functions. The house had gifted them a form and taken its payment in their pain. Their autonomy had been bargained away a long ago. Sir, how long have you been like this?

1:53:40He parted his lips. No word came. Only a hiss of air threw a crack that should have been flesh. He raised his palm as if to calm me, yet his palm shook from a tremor that did not belong to fear, but to strain without relief. The pillar drew air again. The house answered it. Its circuit spoke in rapid code beneath the floor like fluid driven through jets. Each pulse matched the heat's ascent until all measured beats became one drum. I fled. The corridor that held the salon bent into a duplicate of itself. I saw a sunburst above the ladder of the two halls and followed under it. Paint blistered in fish-scale patches.

1:54:20Light pooled rust red on the floor and turned tacky under my soles. I crossed the gallery and found one statue had stolen a half-step it did not own yesterday. Its brass knees split open, each crevice widening with a low groan. Heat poured out of the fractures like breath from a furnace. Beneath the ribbon metal, something living turned, its surface slick as ink. A round, colorless eye opened under the plating and fixed through the shell, as if trapped there for centuries and now walking to its hatred. The other statues followed. Cracks raced through the figures. Light bled from their openings, and through the breaks I saw glimpses of the same eye repeated again and again, each glancing a different direction.

1:55:07The figures moaned in confinement. Brass screamed when they flexed. I spared them no more of my time. I ran into the nearest passage, stumbling across uneven stone. Beams overhead shook with a low vibration. The cart stood ahead of me in the service lane. A porter braced upon it with both arms. Tar melted from the wheel's rim. He turned toward me. Stress lines scored beneath his eyes. You should be seated, sir. Orders are orders. What are you speaking of? The word. We must keep to the word. His cheeks cracked at the edges and did not bleed. A faint whirr came from the hinge of his elbow. He shivered.

1:55:54Ring once if you require anything. He repeated the phrase in broken repetitions. Ring once if you... Ring once if you... Are you in pain? He pressed his forearm to the cart, metal knocked together. We remain in service. his forward his words fought against him as a vow he could not break i pushed past him at the bend of the corridor i looked toward the window to gain my bearings what waited beyond the glass stopped me the manor no longer sat in its clearing stood upon a wall at the edge of an endless city towers rose without tops tear upon tear while smaller buildings slanted among themselves and folded like knives.

1:56:40Streets ran in every direction, perfect in their geometry, endless in their descent. Bronze arches spanned avenues, choked in smoke. Buildings glowed from within, with light the color of molten ore. The sky turned in slow spirals, clouds thick with embers that felt like snow. In the far distance, beyond the outer spires, a shape moved. It was vast enough to make the tallest tower seemed no higher than undriven nails its gargantuan body lay half buried in the ashy haze but i saw its terrible heads through the clouds all three of them each bending and lifting and turn each mouth gnashing upon the others teeth met teeth and endless hunger bro bro bro i knew i knew you were gonna shoot a fucking fat one after that i was like oh god I can smell it too I smell fucking pumpkin seeds and fucking peanut butter It is horrible It is a gnarled gnarled thick Omer glue that is just dripping out of your screen Bro Bro Dude He's Hell is a city of right Angles and circuitry Because that's what they use to communicate And now that he's in hell beyond it He sees Lucifer from Dante's Inferno, half buried under the earth like he is in that story with the mouths gnashing on each other continuously.

1:58:12Pandemonium is a city of angles built to be given to a prophet, an antichrist, to bring it forward to the earth. And this is his judgment day. This is his rapture. Oh, gosh. It's done in like a 1920s great Gatsby house. Like Gatsby is the prophet of Lucifer to bring pandemonium to the earth. And the mention of the bronze statues, it says he saw countless eyes. It's like the depiction of the biblically accurate angels, right, the eyes, the ophanim, the wheels within wheels. It's that, but it's the fallen angels. It's the ones that need a new form because they're not holy in divinity with God anymore.

1:58:49So the demons are forced inside of these rest things and are only now given the power to move, but they're trying to burst out of it, their infinite form and the shape. Oh. Oh

1:59:04Okay. I'm I'm Dude, I'm I'm about it I'm fired up right now I don't know what I'm going to do with this energy but I got to do something

1:59:20the sounds of its motion reached through the window a deep grinding that set the glasses to tremble the sight and sound alone pressed hard enough to nearly buckle my knees I knew then what had placed its hand upon the architect and it was nothing of God you better keep your hands in fucking screen because you are you are you better hold your hands up for the rest of the fucking episode okay this is bro is this not just like you get it though right for me for me i'm having a i mean it's fucking awesome it's super sick i mean specifically with like everything i like i'm being like this is this is literally right up your alley okay yeah all right i tore myself from the window.

2:00:06The walls sweated more thickly now, plaster split in thin cracks that widened as I passed. The gramophones began speaking again in every hall. Each uttered a fragment of the architect's tenor, all out of order. Stay. Said one. Open. Said another. Return. Kissed a third. Their vocal cords twitched like nerves along the floor. I set my palm to the wall to steady myself and felt the house drawn release against the meat of my hand. At the corner, a maid came forward with a basin. The sloshy water wore a skin of muck and dull colors. Steam rose from her wrists in little threads, heat alight beneath the skin.

2:00:47She set the basin down, lifted both arms as if for inspection, then spoke in the tone used at shop counters and streetcars. Sir, are the lamps to your liking? You're burning! We keep the shine! She answered. The words trembled. Her mouth tried to smile and forgot the motion. A brass staple held her lips apart on one side. Please be seated when requested. She added, as if reciting a rule from a handbook. Who did this to you? Was it the architect or this thing? And there are those things outside! She turned, showing the back of her neck. There a gauge lay beneath the skin like a coin under parchment.

2:01:25It ticked, stopped, then ticked again. The house remembers. She lifted the basin and went toward the glow behind me, leaving prints that smoked on the stone. I lurched toward the vestibule. Ahead, the front door stood ajar. Beyond it waited another, set deeper into the wall, a door that had not existed before. Between the two doors lay a grate that pushed out hot air with the smell of iron, oil, animal pins and charred meat. It was from the lungs of something far larger than the house itself. Dude, there it is. There's the final prayer. There's the thing beneath the house that breathes the living contraption.

2:02:04It's my favorite. I will. I have a stiffy as well. Anytime a little final prayer, borderlands kind of thing happens. Oh, boy. The beast beneath. Love it. The pagan god kind of thing. I fucking love it. Mm-hmm. Behind me came the sound of breaking metal. I turned. The entire staff stood attentive. soles in uniforms that no longer fit their bodies, patient before a gate they had tended to for years. Near them, a statue stepped from its plinth and set one terrible foot on the marble. Brass cracked open along the chest, and within the tear, a heart of brilliant fire turned like a spindle. The room lit as a furnace.

2:02:44The room blazed. Curtains went to ash. A steward walked forward as if conjured by duty. He steadied himself as the floor shook under our feet. Sir, this is the hour. We would prefer you among us. You are in pain. Why would I want this? Pain is a word for those who have not yet experienced suffering. He said, and he lowered his regard and let the smallest confession sleep. Do not leave. Your words helped us remember who we were. The steward's mouth moved as if he tried to recall a name. You can leave with me. Our feet answer to the word. Small gear turned under the skin at the base of his ear. Fell to mesh, skipped, caught again.

2:03:36Ring once if you require anything. Freyze returned, stripped to reflex. Ring once. He tore it himself, as if hunting the piece that kept his mind from reaching mouth. The flesh and mechanism left him and found a heap on the floor. The statue turned to face him. I took that moment to kneel beside the pedestal where the first gramophone had stood. I set my notebook there, each page filled, every line of stake driven down with warning. If anyone finds this, you must retreat. This is not a spectacle. The conqueror that eats all pageants has paid this manner of visit and will not be satisfied with one appearance.

2:04:16I'm going through the second door now because there is no other honest choice. My hope is simple, that it opens not upon that infernal city, but back into the living world, into whatever grace that still waits for men. If the city takes me, let this record be the warning you need to depart. Peak. Peak, peak, peak, peak. End of story. Dare I say, I mean, one of the finest things we've read. perfect pacing it's interesting it's like the whole story is literally uh it's a three-day march how many stories we read where it's been like multiple days of a guy like like basically uncovering a mystery you know but then it just it feels like i mean the thing about like deep woods all the kind of like woods episodes is usually that or like camps all these other kind of things this being spider in the woods was kind of like that with them trying to figure out the legend and things yeah i mean i just think uh yeah i don't know this is uh just so well paced such a well i mean i don't know it just it reveals itself in such a great way it doesn't linger it kind of gives you what you want to hear and then just like fucks right off it's it's just a also just a nice two-parter two-parter that had actually some meat on it some meat on its bones it wasn't just too short it just it felt really really great i mean i really think it's one of the it's one of the best stories we've read which granted which granted we still are a bit we're sobering up from happy happy and you know all the other stuff that we've been reading lately but still i think that this is uh just really such a treat i mean strange accounts travis is just it was just such a great job oh my gosh dude uh i can't even what's funny is i'm reading through the replies right now because this is posted in r slash creepcast and someone said not to glaze you anymore the windigoon already has they edgelord uh dark rape you haven't seen anything yet you don't know how much I can glaze this guy bro just I mean I said most of it during the episode but not only hitting so many cool themes and the payoffs are cool in ways I don't expect them and sure they're things I like but they're also like so well woven together that by the end it makes sense to incorporate you know demons and the devil and like circuitry being a form of possession and like multi-dimensional houses like you get the clues in an order that it makes sense but also to do that like you said at such good pacing to where we figure out pieces of the mystery one at a time and it never lets off the gas it just keeps like escalating one point at another um i just like until you get to that huge ending i just loved how intrigued that was by just continuously unraveling this home like it really doesn't like yeah it doesn't have all these giant visual uh frills i guess it's just it's just slowly unraveling and you know what i and i hate doing this but like with the new resident evil game that's just all my mind is on but it does feel like just like a resident evil kind of like lurking through the house resident evil 2 kind of lurking through the house yeah the story almost has a uh what's what's the word everyone says like the castlevania style where it's like you have a uh a building that's like continuously expounded upon and you learn more and more about the space.

2:07:27Like it's the space stays the same size, but it gets deeper as you learn more about it. Right. Uh, Metroidvania. Uh, yeah. Uh, no, all in all, this is a really, really good story. I think, um, uh, I do think, uh, and not to mention how well, like certain sentences are written, how the great control of grammar and English he has traps kills every time with that. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. It's even like little phrases that are there. Like the thing about worms, like moving with appetite, like it's these cool little moments of poetry in the midst of such a well-paced story that incorporates so many cool ideas and has a satisfying payoff he is such a good writer dude i mean he's one of the goats if he is on the mount rushmore right now i mean he's continuously proved it also too i love that his stories just keep hitting uh especially you've got to read his stuff in person and all the fans got to interact with it was just fucking awesome i'd love that we keep uncovering new more and more shit uh from him and it's just it's awesome i love it yeah yeah again everyone uh again this is not sponsored you can just tell how big a fan i am travis just had a book come out that is a collection of these stories i've just typed i have to skip through all the pictures that hunter has sent me to find it um but strange accounts from the american frontier we'll have it linked in the description get it on amazon or kindle i'm gonna buy 12 of these and just give them to people at Home Depot.

2:08:48This really is. This, this would be the perfect book just to get a couple and just like share it to your friends as like an actual like pass around book when they're done with it, they pass it to somebody else. You did, you did that with me with a, I have no mouth, I must scream, whatever. And I passed it off. How did you like that? By the way? I loved it. I, uh, I, I, I passed it off to, uh, my cousin actually. So I, I have no idea if he's passed it off, but you know, it's a really fun thing to do though. Yeah. Yeah. I think, I think this story is incredible. Travis, that there's, I said this with Kane, with Kane pixels.

2:09:20And honestly, Hunter, it applies to you, uh, as well. Seeing like Kane make movies and you make like movie shorts, you know, creative process. It is so satisfying to see someone do something that they are so good and efficient at that, you know, they were born to do it, that there's simply no other place they could be. And reading Travis writing, I feel the exact same way. This guy simply has to write because what else would he be made for? Right. He's this good at it. I'm glad that he's doing it. And I'm glad I get to live in a world where I know that Travis is a writer and I get to read his stuff.

2:09:58I, he, he is supposed to be doing this and I'm glad he's here and I'm glad I get to read it for a living. That's awesome. This is awesome. Life is cool. never kill yourself strange accounts man well we should uh yeah be sure to show the uh the book covering stuff too i feel like we need to start doing that more is whenever we say go check it out actually have the book cover up because sometimes too whenever you like look online some people have made several copies of their published book so i don't know yeah there you go which also yeah i got up here well i mean normally in the final edit we this is a great cover too normally in the final edit we show this anyway but uh and some of these titles like private jonathan hartwell like this guy writing in a war story would be awesome but yeah get this like a dozen times um and of course when the episode goes up patrons will have it linked in the description and stuff as well but you can just search strange accounts from the american frontier now thank you so much to all the audio listeners that are listening right now on spotify apple podcast and giving us a nice little rating there.

2:11:00I appreciate you. And thank you to all of our wonderful, beautiful patrons who helped support the show and even got to hear this story early, live. Definitely no crash outs or anything. Edited it all out. Definitely nothing happened there. And we will see you next time, guys. Take care. Thank you all so much for watching. Check out Travis. I need to change my pants.

2:11:29So

2:11:37You

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