Happy Scribe Logo


Proofread by 0 readers

Do the trashy pulp novels of the world have anything to offer our best sellers, all their hyped up to be the terrible book Love explores whether or not you really can judge a book by its cover or its ridiculous synopsis.


If you've ever seen a book and thought the reading this, we probably are.


Hello and welcome to Episode 90 of The Terrible Book Club, I am Chris, this is Paris.


Hello. This is D. Hi. And this is Ken Howdy. With our podcast combined, we are once more the terrible antique book freaks Hussar captains must be a game plan in real life.


Yeah, I guess I just didn't tell anyone that we were going to do that. But, you know, we can we can do another take later and smack it in there, you know. Yeah. Super fun. Sure.


Well, this is a special episode, you guys, because, I mean, Book Club has done so many live reads before, but we've never done the whole enchilada, the whole thing.


I can't believe I ate the whole thing before because this time we are once again returning to our old pal Kolonaki, the ghost finder.


And we are reading The Gateway of the Monster, the first story in this collection of stories by William Hope Hodgson about Kolonaki, the ghost finder, the guy that finds the ghosts.


If this is your first time listening to Book Club, what we do here is we read books that we assume will be bad based on their cover title summary or some combination of those three things. So we do the opposite of what most people do when they are browsing in a bookstore or online for something to read.


Usually this experiment results in a disappointing read, but once in a while we actually really end up liking the book. And of course, today we have and Ken here with us, they are the antiques freaks and they are glorious. They are going to be here to guide us through this question mark.


Edwardian, I think can now, that's all you Edwardian. Edwardian. Sorry, I was right. Yes, OK, there's a suite.


I already have a point. And we're already doing we're only doing the intro. This is great.


So for content warnings today, I mean, we've got our usual barnyard language, but honestly, we don't know other than maybe generalised occult bullshit because we're doing a liveried today. None of us have read this before.


So Morning Furcal or for a generalized occult bullshit and Edwardian stuff, I don't know.


Also dinner hosts even in the morning.


Yes. So the summary of this collection of stories is simply this collection of stories focuses on Thomas Kolonaki, a fictional occult detective created by English writer William Hope Hodgson. So nothing else. You don't get anything else. If you if you listened to, I think, episode, I want to say 83, where the antiques freaks joined us for the Horse of the Invisible. That story was from the same collection, so also by William Hope Hodgson and also focused on Thomas Karnac.


So if you've heard that, then you have a good foundation for what's to come. Oh, so what are the rules here?


Yeah, so we need to establish that. Yeah, we live right here.


We are for idiots trying to read something. So I think Ken Ken's proposal was the best. Ken, would you like to explain the rules today?


We will be going by I of Oregon Rules, which is you read as much as you can until you either flub it or burst into laughter, at which point it passes to the next person.


OK, which order and what is the order that is up to us?


OK. Should it be alternating TBC and antiques freaks or should it be each podcast has their own team?


Is there a point system to someone get an Olive Garden gift card at the end of the line?


Here's the thing. I'll buy someone an Olive Garden gift card, get them at least the best. His gift card. Come on.


It'll be five dollars. Yeah, besty. So you can actually buy something for five dollars. So yeah. Yeah, please.


If there's some Olive Garden gift card at stake I want to lose is what I'm saying.


How about this?


I'm looking at the twitch stream right here and we can go by top to bottom Aussie Rules here and I will do it'll be me and then can and then Paris and then D.


OK, good. Seems to go in the go for in order for things here. All right.


So this is like is this like English class in school. Let's, let's all fuck the fuck this up. Totally. I was so excited when you guys pitched that because I was just like I miss that so much.


Yeah. I used to like that too. Oh God. My camera was OK.


But are we are people allowed to heckle the people? The person that was reading. Yes, I say OK.


Yeah, OK, so we might be actively trying to make the person break then. OK, all right.


I've already devised a something to make me break immediately. So this is going to go real well. Yeah. My, my, my plan is actually to read Kolonaki.


And then I'm going to break. Yeah, that's about right. All right, I just I've put myself in the hot seat first, everyone.


So get your beverage of choice, get comfy and settle a beverage for my beverage of choice.


Today, it's covered by a cuzzi. But let's let's show the people it is pomegranate state from night shift brewing ice. Very, very pleasant pomegranate sizzle with oats. Damn. All right, well. Prepare yourselves for the gateway of the monster. In response to Karnac, his usual card of invitation to have dinner and listen to a story, I arrived promptly at 427 Shane Walk to find the three others who are always invited to these happy little times there before me.


Five minutes later, Karnac Arkwright, Jessup, Taylor and I were all engaged in the pleasant occupation of dining and not very pleasant, I guess.


You've not been long away this time, I remarked as I finished my soup, forgetting momentarily koronakis dislike of being asked even to skirt the borders of his story until such time as he was ready, then he would not stint words.


That's all, he replied with brevity.


And I changed the subject, remarking that I had been buying a new gun piece of news.


He had given an intelligent nod and a smile, which I think showed a genuinely good human appreciation of my intentional changing of the conversation.


Are you trapped in an awkward conversation? Bring up your gut and you have a gun. Karnac. Oh, sorry. You don't want to go back out on the break.


When I slapped my mike, we could make a few new ghosts tonight.


Karnac, can you later go back? When Dad was finished, Karnac snugged.


He settled comfortably down his word along with his pipe and began his story with very literal circumlocutions. Wow.


Oh, absolute lies. Lies, Matt. That's already too much circumlocution.


As Dodson was remarking just now. I've only been away a short time and for a very good reason to. I've only been away a short distance.


The exact locality, I'm afraid I must not tell you. But it is less than 20 miles from here, though, except for changing a name that won't spoil the story. And it is a story to one of the most extraordinary things I have ever run again.


Oh, Karnac, please don't. Don't cut yourself short on my account. Go ahead. I want to know all the details.


I received a letter a fortnight ago from a man I must call Anderson, asking for an appointment. I arranged the time and when he came, I found that he wished me to investigate and see whether I could not clear up a longstanding and well too well authenticated case of what he termed hunting.


If it's authenticated, why does he give you four? Because he's going to give me a full particulars. And finally, as the case seemed to present something unique, I decided to take it up. Well, this guy already presents. I drove to the house late in the afternoon.


I found it a very old place, standing quite alone in its own grounds.


Anderson had left a letter with the butler I found pleading excuses for his absence and leaving the whole house at my disposal for my investigation. Oh, he's going to be naked. The butler.


Well, Chris, no, I'm going to give a round of applause. That was really. Yeah, those are. Yeah, great.


Rare talent. All right. Talent indeed.


Ken, you're starting at the Butler, evidently new. Oh, boy. The butler evidently knew the object of my visit, and I questioned him pretty thoroughly through the hoops and I guess I will start with that sentence. Take it away, parent's. Fuck, I don't think I can do this, all right. The butler evidently knew the object of my visit, and I questioned him pretty thoroughly during dinner, which I had a rather lonely state, he is an old and privileged servant and have a history of the exact detail from him.


I learned more particulars regarding two things that Anderson had mentioned in a casual manner.


The first was that the door of the gray room would be heard in the dead of night to open and slam heavily.


And this even though the butler knew it was locked and the key of the bunch in his pantry upon the second was that the bedclothes would always be found torn off the bed and heard in a heap into a corner would always be a man in the corner with his butt out.


Oh, you found me.


Kolonaki Butler was the door slamming that chiefly bothered the old butler many and many a time. He told me, had he lain awake and just got shivering with fright listening for sometimes the door would be slammed. Time a time thud, thud.


But so was the door buddy, wasn't he? Yes. Yes.


But it's not the door, right? No, no. All the doors at the door. The naive butler from Anderson.


I knew already that the room had a history extending back over 150 years.


Three people had been strangled. The ancestor of his and his wife and child is dead because they had taken very great pains to discover so that you can imagine it was with me.


I had a striking case to investigate that I went upstairs after dinner to have a look at the room.


I knew it was authentic because I also strangled someone in it. And sure enough, a ghost.


Peter, the old butler, was in rather a state about my going and assured me with much solemnity that in all the twenty years of his service, no one had ever entered that room. After nightfall, he'd begged me in quite a fatherly way to wait till the morning when there would be no danger, and then he could accompany me himself. Of course, I smiled at him a little and told him not to bother. I explained that I should do no more than look around a bit and perhaps affix a few seals.


He need not fear. I was used to that sort of thing, but he shook his head when I said that I've been strangled by at Sea World.


I've got a couple of seals.


All right. I think it's a break their way. Why? Because you. Chuckles I've never. I've left several times. Okay. All right, fine. Keep them. I mean, I could also stop.


It's fine if he wants to take over. No, I want to go see how much longer you can go. Oh, OK, I'm going.


OK, there isn't too many ghosts like all, sir. He assured me with mournful pride. And by the way, he was right. You will see I took a couple of candles and Peter followed with his bunch of keys, unlocked the door, but would not come inside with me.


He was definitely in a bright, and he renewed his request that I would put off my examination until daylight. Of course, I told him again and told him he could stand sentry at the door and catch anything that came out.


And if it comes out ghostlike in his hands, like grab the ghost and don't be scared if it comes out naked in his funny odzala manner, somehow he managed to make me feel as if I were going to have the creeps right away.


Anyway, it was one to him, you know, why isn't he just like all the butlers, the ghost shit? So I left him excuse me to resolve this. It is a big apartment, well furnished in the grand style with a huge fall poster which stands with its head to the annual. There were two candles on the mantelpiece and chuckling waiting tables somewhere in the room. I lit so many and after that the room felt a little less inhumanly dreary, though mind you, it was quite fresh and kept well in every way.


I thought of the honor of those words. All right. Sorry.


Don't know. OK, hold on. Mia. Oh, I'm Sipan. Take your preparations when sugar. No, no, no sugar always.


Oh, I'm sure I need you to read. After I had taken a good look around, I see links of baby Rebin across the windows. Oh, baby, you have your ghost hunting kit, baby. You didn't you didn't mention that.


What is that? Is that made of babies is a ribbon made of baby skin.


I'm going to Google that right now. OK, all right. Are you with a search history than mine?


Are we pausing for Ken to Google, baby? Rebin Yes. We're pausing for baby Gavin definition.


Crisis, a baby in Google, we must find out what that pain is, you're going to love this.


There's nothing. Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow. OK, so we're going with sterile baby flesh. That's a dried baby skin. Yeah, I'm with it.


I see lengths of baby ribbon across the windows, along the walls, over the pictures and over the fireplace because I had skinned many a baby in the closet all the time as I worked the butler stuff just without the door.


And I could not persuade him to enter, though I just did him a little as I stretched the gory ribs and went here and there about my work it every now and again he would say, You excuse me, I'm sure, sir, but I just wish you would come out, sir. I'm fair and quick.


The butler trying to fuck Kolonaki. He's been stealing time where that's going. Yeah. Oh, I mean, I guess that would make the story more interesting.


I told him he need not wait, but he was loyal enough in his way to what he considered his duty. He said he could not go away and leave me all alone there.


He apologized, but made it very clear that I did not realize the danger of the room. And I could see generally that he was in a pretty frightened state. All the same, I had to make the room so that I should know if anything material entered it. So I asked him not to bother me unless he really heard or saw something. He was beginning to get on my nerves.


And it's all right. All right. Oh, wow. Wow. Great job. Great job. That was fucking amazing.


I wish the butler would stop trying to seduce me. I'm trying to do my ghost finding in here.


How could you ever have that happen to you?


You're trying to find a ghost in the butler. Just won't stop making it.


Look, man, I'm a I'm a ghost finder, not a dick finder. You got the profession wrong. That's what you're looking for. Are you going to hire someone else?


I'm a ghost finder, but the dick finds me.


Oh, this is an HBO show. That would absolutely be the tagline. Oh, God.


OK, I'll take it from there. Sorry. But again, I'm just imagining the butler like putting a handkerchief over his dick. If be like find this scoop.


No, no. The spooky ghost. Brilliant plan.


Brilliant. Well yeah ok. Yeah. OK, I get it because it looks like a ghost because. Yes. OK. All right. I'm going to start from that same sentence.


Yeah. He was beginning to get on my nerves and the feel of the room was bad enough without making it any nasty nasty. But a time further I worked stretching ribbons across the floor and ceiling so that the Muresk touch would have broken them or anyone to venture into the room in the dark with the intention of playing the fool. All this had taken me far longer than I had anticipated, and suddenly I heard a clock strike eleven. I had taken off my coat soon after commencing work.


Now, however, as I had practically made an end of all that I intended to do, I walked across to the city and picked it up on the cheek and into it.


We when the old buggers getting inside way, I picked up the couch and got into it. What the fuck is happening?


Oh yes. It's a slice of to open and crawl inside of it. See you like an animated movie, like flipped it in the air and then like jumped and sat in it. And he's like, well do you see the city? You are already set.


All right, please. I was in the act of getting into it when the old butler's voice, he had not said a word for the last hour came sharp and frightened. Come out, sir. Quick. There's something going to happen so fast. And then in the same moment, one of the candles on the table to the left went out.


Now, whether it was the wind or what, I do not know. But just for a moment, I was enough startled to make a run for the door, though I am not worthy that I pulled it up before I reached it. I simply could not bunk out with the butler standing there after having, as it were, read him a sort of lesson on being brave, you know. So I just turned right round, picked up the two candles off the mantelpiece and walked across to the table near the bed.


Well, I saw nothing. I blew out the candle that was still alight. And then I went to those on the two tables and blew them out. Then outside of the door, the old man called again, Oh, sir, do be told to be told.


What does the art can?


I mean, I've never encountered this sentence construction before in my life.


Great, good. The expert here has never seen these great things. No, I'm sorry. No, it's. No, I'm not.


That's not a slight against you. It's a slight against the text.


It sounds like something that's going to enter drag vernacular. Pretty sure. Yeah. I like to be told. Have told me to be told.


All right, Peter, I said, and by Jove, my voice was not as steady as I should have liked, I made for the door and had a bit of work not to start running. I took some thundering long strides, as you can imagine, near the door. I had a sudden feeling that there was a cold wind in the room. It was almost as if the window had been suddenly opened a little. I got to the door and the old butler gave back a step in a sort of instinctive way called the candles.


Peter, I said pretty sharply and shoved them into. I turned flames by the hand and slammed the door shut with a crash somehow. Do you know, as I did so I thought I felt something pull back on it. But it must have been only fancy. Quite the turn on the luck. And then again, double locking the door is not a thing I felt I would. I felt easier then and set two and sealed the door. In addition, I put my card over the keyhole and sealed it there, after which I pocketed the key and went downstairs with Peter, who was nervous in silence leading the way.


Real quarrel. You just glueing shut down all over the room, I guess, to see how. Just like a little bottle of gorilla glue in his kit.


Yeah, his business card over the keyhole definitely to keep those go. So, you know, that piece of paper, that thin cardstock just.


Yep. Well that's just what I really like, that he's like, oh don't worry, I've done this before. I'm not scared of no ghosts. And then like, he jumps a candle, flickers and he fucking you grand mal freak out.


Kolonaki is very relatable. He also just seems to have had an armful of candles this entire time.


You don't it. I mean like you see how Shaggy reacts in Scooby Doo and he solves mysteries all the time. That's true. So this is true.


You just got to sometimes you got to Zink's out of there.


Anyway, continuing her old beggar, it had not struck me until that moment that he had been enduring a considerable strain during the last two or three hours, he has been known to ours.


Hey, dude, I'm super scared and under a strain. And I wish we weren't doing this for two or three hours. I didn't realize. Oh, my God. About midnight, I went to bed. My room lay at the end of the corridor upon which opens the door of the gray room. I counted the doors between its and mine and found that five rooms laid between. And I am sure you can understand that. I was not sorry, but I refused to apologize for these firefighters.


All five rooms.


They can just go to bed without me saying sorry, I'm not going to say it. Then, just as I was beginning to undress, Idea came to me. I called the church my candle and stealing wax and dripping all over my walls and seals the doors of all five rooms. If any door slammed in the night, I should know just he really is gluing everything fucking shit. Like I try to get through this idiot ghost. I returned to my room and locked the door and went to bed.


I was Wick's suddenly from a deep sleep by a loud crash. Somewhere out in the passage I sat up in bed and listened but heard nothing. Then I lit my candle and my other very active and my like shit.


OK, you got me.


Sorry, Ken. You're up. You're on. I like. Really?




Third candle lit my candle. I was in the very act of lighting it. I was in the very act of writing it when there came the bang of a door being violently slammed along the corridor. I jumped out of bed and got my revolver. I unlocked the door and went out into the passage, holding my candle high and keeping the pistol ready, which is a revolver, a pistol. Oh, both, apparently. Yeah, I guess so.


Also in this story, I see we're still holding this idea that guns are effective against fucking ghosts. Yeah, absolutely.


I think he's got a gun for every candle, actually.


He's actually just a golem made of guns and candles stuck together with candle wax guns or how you find ghosts.


You shoot wildly into the corridor and then like a day later, a ghost appears because you shot someone dead.


Yes, true.


Then a queer thing happened. The butler came in. I could not go a step toward the green room. You all know that I am not really a cowardly chap.


No, I don't agree. I've gone into too many cases connected with ghostly things to be accused of that. But I tell you, I funked it just like, hey, could be. Did you find month? He simply functioned.


Oh fuck. Oh shit. He broke it then when you think he was doing like the floss dance from the fortnight absolute.


Oh sorry. What what. Ho ho is the butler.


Oh yes. I see. There was something precious unholy in the air that night. I ran back into my bedroom and shut and locked the door. Not a coward. Then I sat on the bed all night and listened to the dismal thudding of a door up the corridor.


You know, like a brave person would do a sound seem to echo through all the house.


That's scary.


So much to go investigate. Can't wait. Can't you stayed up all night listening to people. Fuck is what I'm hearing here.


That is absolutely what happened. The butler got bored and went and found someone else. Yeah. Daylight came at last and I washed and dressed. The door had not slammed for about an hour and I was getting back my nerve again. I felt ashamed of myself, though in some ways it was silly for when you're meddling with that sort of thing, your nerve is bound to go sometimes, like immediately.


And you just have to sit quiet and call yourself a coward until daylight. Well, you know, sometimes it is more than just cowardice, I fancy.


Sometimes it's bullshit.


I believe at times it is something warning you and fighting for you. But all the same, I always feel mean and miserable after a time like that. When the day came properly, I opened my door and keeping my revolver handy, went quietly along the passage.


I had a fucking breakfast ready or shit's about to fucking God butler.


I had to pass the head of the stairs along the way and who should I see coming up? But the old butler carrying a cup of coffee.


I heard you, sir. I heard you. Please, don't you think he had merely tucked his nightshirt into his trousers and he had an old pair of carpet slippers on? Oh, my word picture there, huh? Oh, my, Mr. Karnac, yes, I didn't dress. Did you hear the banging all night? Did you hear that? I wondered if you heard it.


Hello, Peter, I said, feeling suddenly cheerful for hours, as glad as any lost child to have a live human being close to me. Where are you off to with the refreshments? The old man gave a start and slapped some of the coffee. God, what an idiot. He stared up at me and I could see that he looked white and done up.


What what you just looked on up.


You just makeup it just you were just saying that he looked not done up like he looked all ruffled. Right. This butler on fleek.


Apparently he was looking sickening. He came on up the stairs and held up the little tray to me, I'm very thankful indeed, sir, to see you safe and well, he said. I feared one time you might risk going into the gray room. Sir, I've been awake all night with the sound of the door, the doors with an and yeah, the door has now entered the cast.


And when it came light I thought I'd make you a cup of coffee. I knew you would want to look at the seals and somehow it seems safer if there's two.


Sir, I hope they didn't throw too many balls on their nose in the night.


I was going to say, you never know when the SEALs were going to turn Blackfish the yellow. Peter, I said, you're a brick, what you are a big turn and square as he jumped to my door. We will not forget that he's funking.


Yes, yes, he is faking it. Yes, he's completely. He's simply functor.


Oh. This is very thoughtful of you, and I drank the coffee. Come along, I told him and handed him back the tray. I'm going to have a look at what the brutes have been up to. I simply hadn't the pluck to in the night. Yeah.


Yeah. No cowardice here. I'm very thankful, sir, he replied, flesh and blood can do nothing, sir, against devils, and that's what's in the gray room after dark. I examined the seals on all the doors as I went along and found them right, but when I got to the gray room, the seal was broken, though the card over the keyhole was untouched. I used better glue on that.


I ripped it off and unlocked the door and went in rather cautiously, as you can imagine. But the whole room was empty of anything to frighten one, and there was heaps of light. I examined all my cells and not a single one was disturbed, they clapped merrily as I examined. I'm just picturing him holding out little inkblot test to the SEALs. How do you feel how disturbed they are to see if they're down with the sickness?


Oh, wow. The old butler had followed me in and suddenly he called out the bedclothes, sir. Oh, they're all rumpled. Oh, like someone was just rolling around in them. I ran up to the bed and looked over and surely they were lying in the corner to the left of the bed. Juv you can imagine how queer I felt about that. I can tell. Something had been in the room. I stared for a while from the bed to the clothes on the floor.


I had a feeling that I did not want to touch either. Old Peter, though, did not seem to be affected that way. He went over to the bed coverings and was going to pick them up, as doubtless he had done every day these 20 years back. But I stopped him. I wanted nothing touched the least of all. This I must have spent a full hour over and then I let Peter straighten up the bed, after which we went out and I locked the door for the room, was getting on my nerves for things being annoying him lately.


I had a short walk and then breakfast after which I felt more my own man, but you felt your own man and so returned to the gray room and with Peter's help and one of the maids and everything taken out of the room, there are maids here.


So I was just imagining just Peter the butler. Yeah, it didn't say it was just Peter earlier. We all know maids aren't people, they just operated. Oh, I forgot. I'm sorry.


Welcome to the Edwardian era. It'd be very funny if their ghost maids and you just didn't notice. Oh, those those ghosts, oh, they've been here all the time.


They like to bang in the great except the bed, even the very pictures I examined the walls, floor and ceiling, then with probe, hammer and magnifying glass, but found nothing suspicious. It's really tear up the place. And I assure you, I began to realize in very truth that some incredible thing had been loose in the room during the past night. I sealed up everything again and went out, locking in, sealing the door as before. So please stop putting wax all over the things I have to clean that after dinner.


Peter and I unpacked some of my stuff and I fixed up my camera and flashlight opposite the door of the gray room with a string from the trigger of the flashlight to the door. Then you see, if the door were really opened, the flashlight would blare out and there would be possibly a very clear picture to examine in the morning.


It's of The Butler. The last thing I did was to uncap the lens, and after that I went off to my bedroom and to bed for I intended to be up at midnight and to ensure this, I set my little alarm to call me. Also, I left my candle burning.


That's not so unsafe. Yeah, that seems unsafe. Ghosts in my room on fire.


The clock woke me at 12 and I got up and into my dressing gown and slippers. I showed my revolver into my right side pocket, you know, like they teach you to do it.


The gun range and then my pistol into my bank. Yes. Yes.


And opened my door. Then I lit my darkroom lab and withdrew the slide so that it would give a clear light. I carried it up the corridor about 30 feet and put it down on the floor with the open side away from me so that it would show anything that might approach along the dark passage that I went back and sat in the doorway of my room with my revolver handy, staring up the passage toward the place where I knew my camera stood outside the door.


Wait, wait, wait. Guys, guys, we're once again, we're in a corridor and he's about to shoot into it to find the ghost. Just shoot the corridor just exactly like the horse one. If anyone dares to walk in the corridor, even the butler, probably butler about to get blasted. Yeah, listen, if that camera tries fucking anything, Bernanke's ready.


I should think I had watched for about an hour and a half when suddenly I heard a faint noise away at the corridor.


Sounded like feet. I was immediately conscious of a queer prickling sensation about the back of my head, and my hands began to sweat a little Newsweek palm spaghetti. I was really horny. The following instant, the whole into the passage flicked into sight in the abrupt glare of the flashlight. There came the succeeding darkness, and I peered nervously up the corridor, listening intensely and trying to find what lay beyond the faint glow of my dark lamp, which now seemed ridiculously dim by contrast with the tremendous bliss of the flash power.


And then, as I stooped forward, staring and listening, there came the crashing thud of the door of the green room. The sound seemed to fill the hole of the large corridor and go echoing hollowly through the house. I tell you, I felt horrible as if my bones were watered like a brave man. Yes, that. This man is now liquid. Alex, Alex, it simply beastly Jove, how I did stare and how I listened and then it came again.


Thud, thud, thud and then a silence that was almost worse than the noise of the door. It's definitely a door and nothing else for I kept fencing that some awful thing was stealing upon me along the corridor. And then suddenly my lamp was put out and I could not see a yard before me. I realized all at once that I was doing a very silly thing sitting there and I jumped up. So I started blasting even as I did so I thought I heard a sound in the passage and quite near these italics are in the text, by the way.


Oh, I know. Just for the audience who might not be reading a law, I made one backwards spring into my shitty fucking back, flipped into that shit.


Oh yeah. Kolonaki on X Games mode and slammed and locked the door. I sat on my bed and stared at the door. I had my revolver in my hand, but it seemed an abominably useless thing. I felt that there was something on the other side of that door. For some unknown reason.


I knew it was pressed up against the door and it was soft. Oh, what? What soft? Yeah, because ghosts are made out of bed sheets because it's just it's just a butler like twerking it.


I knew what they called the boy was pressed up against the door and it was soft and thick. That was just what I thought most extraordinary thing to do, and so presently I got a hold of myself a bit and marked out a pentacle hurriedly with chalk on the polished floor. And there are certain it until almost on the case of those facts. Yeah, there you go. Down on it.


All right, Paris, your opinions reign. I know that was my extended good job.


You and all the time away up the corridor, the door of the gray room thudded at solemn and horrid intervals. It was a miserable, brutal night. When the day began to break, the thudding of the door came gradually to an end. And at last I got hold of my courage and went along the corridor in the half light to cap the lens of my camera. I can tell you it took some doing, but if I had not done so, my photograph would have been spoilt and I was tremendously keen to save it.


I got back to my room and then set to and rubbed out the five pointed star and half an hour later there was a tap at my door. It was Peter with my coffee. When I had drunk it. We both went along to the gray room as we went. I had to look at the seals on the other doors, but they were untouched.


The seal on the door of the gray room was broken, as also was the string from the trigger of the flashlight. But the cord over the keyhole was still there.


I ripped it off and opened the door. Nothing unusual was to be seen until we came to the bed. Then I saw that as on the previous day the bed clothes had been torn off and hurled into the left hand corner exactly where I had seen them before. I felt very queer, but I did not forget to look at all the seals, only to find that not one had been broken. Then I turned and looked at old Peter and he looked at me nodding his head, you know, let's get out of here.


I said, It's no place for any living human to enter without proper protection. It's literally what he said when you got here. We went out then and I locked and sealed the door again. I like the sentence. It's no place for any human living human to enter without proper protection is said a lot by Kolonaki. Yeah, and probably the butler too.


After breakfast I developed the negative, but it showed only the door of the gray room. Half opened. Then I left the house as I wanted to get certain matters and implements that might be necessary to life, perhaps to the spirit, for I intended to spend the coming night in the graveyard. I got back in a cab about half past five with my apparatus and this Peter and I carried up to the gray room, that part of the Caerphilly in the center of the floor.


When everything was in the room, including a cut which I had brought, I looked like we were right in the bedroom telling Peter I should not be done for dinner.


He said yes and went downstairs with this cat thinking that I was going to turn in, which was what I wanted him to believe, as I knew he would avoid both me and himself if he had known what I intended. But I merely got my camera and flashlight from my bedroom and hurried back to the graveyard. I locked and sealed myself in and set to work for a lot to do before it got dark. First, I cleared away all the ribbons across the floor.


Then I covered the cat, still fastened in its basket over to the far wall and left it behind, then to the center of the room and measured up to space 21 feet in diameter, which I swept with a broom of Hisel about this address.


Sutcliff clock ticking can never to step over the circle. The this I smudged with a bunch of garlic, a broad you felt right around the chalk circle. And when this was complete I took from among my stores in the center a small jar of a certain water. I broke away the parchment water and withdrew the water pistol, then dipping my left forefinger in the little jar.


I went round the circle again, marking upon the floor just within the line of chalk, the second sign of the Samaa ritual and joining side most carefully with the left handed crescent.


I can tell you I felt easier when this was done and the water circle complete. Then I unpacked some more of the stuff that I had brought and placed a lighted candle in the valley of oh, more candles is exactly what we needed here.


After that, I drew pentacle so that each of the five points of the defense of Star touched the talk circle. In the five points of the star, I placed five portions of the bread, each wrapped in linen and in the five veils, five open jars of water. I had used to make the water circle and now a Pedros, my first protective barrier complete. And now I had my first Pee wee Herman breakfast machine complete.


Now, anyone except you who knows something of my methods of investigation might consider all this a piece of useless and foolish. No, no, Mr. Kolonaki, we still think that actually remember the Black Veil case in which I believe my life was saved by a very similar form of protection, whilst Asta, who sneered at it and would not come inside, died, does he bring up the idea of the citizens of Britain so far as I can make out in the 14th century?


At first, naturally, I imagined it was just an expression of the superstition of the time. And it was not until a year later that it occurred to me to test his defense, which I did, as I just said, and that horrible blackmail business. You know how that turned out? Yeah, because you bring it up literally every dinner. Kolonaki, Willy, Jesus. Ghoulish later, I use it several times and always I came through safe until that moving fur case that was only a partial defence therefore, and I nearly died in the pentacle.


After that, I came across Professor Godus experiments with a medium when they surrounded the medium with a current in vacuum. He lost his power, vacuumed him right up, almost as if it cut him off from the material. That made me think a lot. And that is how I came to make the electric pentacle, which is the most marvellous defense against certain manifestations.


I use the shape of the defensive star for this protection because I have personally no doubt at all, but that there is some extraordinary virtue in the old magic figure. Curious thing for a 20th century man to admit, is it not? But then, as you all know, I never did and never will allow myself to be blinded by the little cheap laughter. I ask questions and keep my eyes open.


I really like that he started this was like, you guys know how I do. Anyway, I'm going to explain to you in fucking gritty detail how I do so. Yeah.


And you guys remember Aster astore fucking died like in this last case, I had little doubt that I'd run up against a supernatural monster and I meant to take every possible care for the danger is abominable.


I don't want to die like.


Do you guys remember after he died I turned to now to fit the electric pentacle, setting it so that each of its points and veils coincided exactly with the points and veils of the drawn pentagram upon the floor.


Then I connected up the battery and the next instant the pale blue glare from the intertwining vacuum tubes shown out. I glanced about me then with something of a sigh of relief and realized suddenly that the dusk was upon me, for the window was gray and friendly. Then round with the big empty room over the double barrier of electric and candlelight, I had an abrupt, extraordinary sense of weirdness thrust upon me.


Yeah, you know, as if a sense of something inhuman impending room was full of the stench of bruised garlic, a smell.


I hate to be the one who taught the girl again.


Someone fall my fucking garlic. I hate this. I turned now to the camera and saw that it in the flashlight wouldn't order. Then I tested my revolver carefully, though I had little thought that it would be needed. Yes, to what extent materialization of an abnormal creature is possible given favorable conditions, no one can say they had no idea what horrible thing I was going to see or feel the presence of. I might in the end have to fight with a materialist monster I did not know and could only be prepared to see.


I never forgot.


The three other people had been strangled in the bed close to me you see a slamming of the door.


I heard myself. I had no doubt that I was investigating a dangerous and ugly case. By this time the night had come that the room was very light, burning candles, and I found myself glancing behind me constantly. And then all around the room it was navvy work, waiting for that thing to come. Then suddenly I was aware of a little cold wind sweeping over me. Coming from behind. I gave one great nerve, thrill in a prickly feeling went all over the back of my head.


Then I heard myself from the sort of stiff jerk and set straight against that queer wind. It seemed to come from the corner of the left. And then the place were both times I had found a heap of tossed bedclothes. Yet I could see nothing unusual, no opening, nothing abruptly. I was aware that the candles were all flicker and that natural wind swirled like a dervish.


I believe it squatted there and stayed in a horribly frightened wooden way for some minutes. I shall never be able to tell, you know, dammit, fuck. Sorry.


Oh no. You have to let you know. All right, D, I shall never be able to let you know how disgustingly horrible it was sitting in that vile cold wind and then click, click, click. All the candles around the outer barrier went down and there was I locked and sealed in that room, spinning endlessly and still not sure why my candles were flickering with no light beyond the weakest blue glare of the electric pentacle, a time of abominable, tenseness past.


And still that wind blew upon me. And then suddenly I knew that something stirred in the corner to the left of the bed. I was made conscious of it, rather, by some inward unused sense than by either sight or sound, or the pale short radius of the pentacle gave but a very poor light farseeing by. Yet as I stared, something began slowly to grow upon my sight, a moving shadow a little darker than the surrounding shadows.


I lost the thing amid the vagueness, and for a moment or two I glanced swiftly from side to side with a fresh, new sense of impending danger. Then my attention was directed to the bed. All the coverings were being drawn steadily off with a hateful, stealthy sort of motion. I heard the slow dragging slither of the clothes. Are they finally wet? Like nothing of the damp, just really damp. It was this palms. They got all sweaty and all that horniness.


Horny, horny sweatpants.


I could see nothing of the thing that pulled. I was aware in a funny subconscious, introspective adjective, adverb fashion, the creep had come upon me yet that I was cooler mentally than I had been for some minutes, sufficiently so to feel that my hands were sweating coldly and to shift my revolver half consciously whilst I rubbed my right hand dry upon my knee.


All of this is important to tell you the story, though never for an instant taking my gaze of my attention away from those moving clothes. The faint noises from the bed ceased once, and there was a most intense silence with the only sound of the blood being in my head that I thought, Yeah.


Yeah. Oh yeah. Yep. Beating All right, crazy Robbie.


I got beat blooded. Yeah, bloody beats. Anyway, yet immediately afterward I heard upon. Crap, I immediately funked it, I did immediately. Wow, OK.


So I simply funked it everybody, if not it again. All right. I guess that means can you're immediately up. Wow.


Yet immediately afterward, I heard again the slurring of the bedclothes being drowned. No calls for that kind of language. Bedclothes in the midst of my nervous tension, I remembered the camera and reached around for it, but without looking away from the bed. And then, you know, all in a moment, the whole of the bed coverings were torn off with extraordinary violence. And I heard the slump that this is the first literary instance of long. Yes.


Like, what is this going up? Oh, also, I would never associate the word Pflum put something terrifying. Yeah, it's silly, but this is the horrifying slump of the bedclothes. There was a time of absolute quietness then for perhaps a couple of minutes. And you can imagine how horrible I felt. The bedclothes had been thrown with such savageness till they slumped. And then again, the brutal unnaturalness of the thing that had just been done before me.


Nothing more unnatural than stripping bedclothes.


I think just it just some tossed bedclothes. It's fine. It's not that brutal. I haven't got any death metal about bedclothes being thrown. A brutal flameproof they made as they were hurled, more brutal, thumping abruptly over by the door. I heard a faint noise, a sort of crackling sound, and then a piter or two upon the floor, someone put it on the floor. It was jars that he brought in. A great nervous thrill swept over me, seeming to run up my spine and over the back of my head for the seal that secured the door had just been broken.


Something was there. I could not see the door, at least I mean to say that it was impossible to say how much I actually saw and how much my imagination supplied from here, I will begin lying.


This is your warning. I made it out only as a continuation of the grey walls. And then it seemed to me that something dark and indistinct moved and wavered there among the shadows. Abruptly, I was aware that the door was opening and with an effort, I reached again for my camera, but before I could aim it at the door, wait, no, no, there was no exit.


No, sorry. I somehow choked with a fuck.


Why the fuck are we were you paying attention? Oh, I see it, I see it. No, no, I am.


I just it's really hard to stare at this wall of text that that's what books are, but that's what books are. Do we what do we want to do? You want me to start that whole sentence or just that clause?


That the clause. Yeah, OK.


But before I could aim it at the door was slammed with a terrific crash that filled the whole room with sort of hollow thunder. I jumped like a frightened child.


This seems such a power behind the noise as though a vast wanton force were out. Can you understand? As if some force had awakened, the door was not touched again. But directly afterward I heard the basket in which the cattle creak. I tell you, I felt sprinkled along.


Once you pop, you can't stop. That's it's everywhere. Don't eat in bed.


Do. I knew that I was going to learn definitely. Whether whatever was abroad was dangerous. Life from the cat. The rose suddenly a hideous caterwaul that ceased abruptly and then too late. I snapped off the flashlight and the great glare. I saw that the basket had been overturned and the lid was wrenched open. Pringle with the cat lying half in and half out upon the floor.


I saw nothing else, but I was full of the knowledge that I was in the presence of some being a thing that had power to destroy.


So this so this guy is just like, oh my God, a terrible coward because, like, kind of shoved a cat out of its best. Get a little bit during the next two or three minutes. There was an odd noticeable quietness in the room and you must fuck I already fucked up and must know so much.


I'm sorry you got it. Oh we all forget sometimes Paris simply funked it. And you must remember, I was half blinded for the time because of the flashlight so that the whole place seemed to be pitchy.


Dog just beyond the shine of the said Bitsie Dark. Oh, no, I tell you, it was most horrible. I just knelt there in the star and whirled round trying to see whether anything was coming at me. My power of sight came gradually and I got a little hold of myself. And abruptly I saw the thing I was looking for close to the water, sir. It was big and indistinct and wavered curiously, as though the shadow of a vast spider hung, suspended in the air just beyond the barrier.


It passed swiftly round the circle and seemed to probe over toward me, but only to drop back with extraordinary jerky movements as a living person if they touched the hot bar of a great. Round and round it moves and round and round I turned, then just opposite to one of the Vail's in the pentacles, it seemed to pass as the preliminary to a tremendous effort. It retired almost beyond the glow of the vacuum light and then came straight towards me, appearing to form and solidity as it came.


This seemed a vast Meline determination behind the movement that must succeed. I was on my knees and I jerked back, falling onto my left hand and hip in a wild endeavor to get back from the dancing thing. With my right hand, I was grabbing madly for my revolver, which I had let slip. The brutal thing came with one great sweep straight over the garlic and berserk, almost to the feel of the pentacle. I believe, I yelled.


Then, just as suddenly as it had swept over, it seemed to be hurled back by some mighty visible force. It must have been some moments before I realised I was safe. And then I got myself together in the middle of the pentacles, feeling horribly gone and shaken and glancing round and round the barrier. But the thing had vanished. Yet I had learned something for I knew not looked fuck, Tom.


All right, Chris, you're up. Yes, I had to learn something, I knew now that the gray room was haunted by a monstrous hand. Oh, yeah, suddenly, sure.


As I crouched there, I saw what had so nearly given the monster an opening through the barrier in my movements within the pentacle, I must have touched one of the jars of water for just where the thing had made its attack. The jar that guarded the deep of the veil had been moved to one side, and this had left one of the five doorways unguarded. I put it back quickly and felt almost safe. God, Kolonaki, if I had found the cause and the defense was still good, and I began to hope again that I should see the morning come in when I saw that thing so nearly succeed, I had an awful weak, overwhelming feeling that the barriers could never bring me safe through the night against such a force.


You can understand for a long time like a guy in a bar that's just like explaining the minutia. Yes, walking care about. Yeah.


Is this is mansplaining. A shitty ghost story like that feels like what's happening here, just like I want to know it. Like I was being haunted by a monstrous hand. But more importantly, the jar of water had been inched finally to the left. And I was my choice of water need to be perfect. And you don't understand. Are you even capable of comprehending that this jar of water had moved for a long time?


I could not see the hands, but presently I thought I saw once or twice and odd wavering over among the shadows near the door a little later, as though in a sudden fit of malignant rage, the dead body of the cat was picked up and beaten with dull, sickening blows against the solid floor that when was this cat had died.


Now, I guess. I guess it was a subtle suggestion that made me feel rather queer. Is that the proper explanation for how something banging cat corpse against performing feels just like, oh, that's a little weird? Also, what was the point of the cat except to have it murdered? Yeah, one could bring that into this. I don't want to say, like, you know, comes down like pick a mouse or something, buddy. A minute afterwards.


The door was opened and slams twice with tremendous force. The next instant, the thing made one swift, vicious darts at me from out of the shadows. Instinctively I started sideways from it and so plucked my hand from a pond, the electric pentacle, where for a wickedly careless moment I had placed it. The monster was hurled off from the neighborhood of the pentacles.


The small, though owing to my nature, it had been enabled for a second time to pass the outer barriers. I can tell you a schook for a time with sheer funk.


Oh OK. Slam dunk and put it up. Going to fight this ghost hand.


I'm right to the center of the pentacles again and now there making myself as small and compact as possible.


As I knelt there, the act of a very brave man. You mean like a cat that didn't seem to do a much good came to me presently a vague wonder at the two accidents which had so nearly allowed the brute to get at me was, I can't keep up. Was I being influenced to unconscious voluntary actions that endangered me? The thought took hold of me and I watched my every movement abruptly. I stretched a tired leg and knocked over one of the jars of water.


You know, something was how could you be that fucking careless when your life is in danger? Just like it's like the direction the only thing he's been thinking of till now. And he just like fucking kicks it over in a fit of funk. Yeah, some was spilled, but because of my suspicious watchfulness, I had it operated back within the veil while yet some of the water remained even as I did so. The vast black half materialized and beat up at me out of the shadows and seemed almost into my face, so nearly distracting yourself.


But for the third time it was thrown back by some altogether enormous over mastering force. Yet apart from the days in which it left me, I had for a moment the feeling of spiritual sickness as of some delicate, beautiful inward grace had suffered, which is felt only upon the two near approach of the Abbey human and is more dreadful in a strange way than any physical pain that can be suffered. I'll do the AB Human is like my favorite workout I knew, but was more of the extent and closeness of the danger.


And for a long time I was simply cowed by the butt headed brutality of the force upon my spirit. I can put it no other way. Fine. But really, you couldn't put it any other way to put it?


No other way. I know.


To get you seized by funk, I knelt again in the center of the pentacles, watching myself with more fear almost than the monster. I knew now that unless I guarded myself from every sudden impulse that came to me, I might simply work my own destruction. Do you see how horrible it all was? Can you possibly understand that the ghost was spooky? Do you see? I spent the rest of the night in a haze of sick fright and so tense that I could not make a single movement.


Naturally, I was in such fear that any desire for action that came to me might be prompted by the influence that I knew was at work upon me. And outside of the barrier, that ghastly thing went round and round, grabbing and grabbing in the air at me twice more. Was the body of the dead cat molested?


Oh, God. Oh, God. Because the second time I heard every bone in his body scrunch and crack and all the time the horrible wind was blowing upon me from the corner of the room to the left of the bed, that you need help just as the fog. Then just as the first touch of dawn came into the sky, that unnatural wind ceased in a single moment and I could see no sign of the hand. The dawn came slowly, and presently the wind light filled all the room and made the pale glare of the electric pentacle look more unearthly.


Yet it was not until the day had fully come that I made any attempt to leave the barrier, for I did not know. But that there was some method abroad in the sudden stopping of that wind to entice me from the pentacles at lest when the dawn was strong and bright, I took one last look round and ran for the door. I got it unlocked and in a nervous and clumsy fashion, then locked it hurriedly and went to my bedroom where I lay on the bed and tried to steady my nerves.


Peter came presently with the coffee and when I had drunk it, I told him I meant to have a sleep as I had been up all night like I do after coffee. Yeah, coffee always calms me down.


He took the tray and went out quite late. After I had locked my door, I turned in properly and at last got to sleep.


I woke about midday and after some lunch went up to the gray room, I switched off the current from the pentacle, which I left on in my hurry. Also, I removed the body of the cat. You can understand I did not want anyone to see the poor brute. Well, gee, I don't know if there's much left of it.


After that, I made a very careful search of the corner with a bedclothes had been thrown. I made several holes and probed and found nothing.


Yeah, I just stuck it in each one and I waited. Then it occurs like any of those movies at all. OK, well you got there.


You got me d o that was, that was good. Does go this long one. The next sentence ain't much better. Oh, oh, very good. Oh, no. Then it occurred to me to try with my instrument under the skirting, I do not like the movies. I did so and heard my wiring on metal. I turned the hook and that way and fish for the thing. Well, what shape is it at the second go?


I got it. It was a small object and I took it to the window. I found it to be a curious ring made of some greying material. The curious thing about it was that it was made in the form of a Pentagon that is the same shape as the inside of the magic pentacle. But without the mount's, which form the points of the defensive star, it was free from all chasing or engraving. You will understand that I was excited when I tell you I felt sure I held in my hand the famous luck ring of the Anderson family.


What else? Excuse me? What else could it be? Yeah, that's my favorite Disney Disney original movie. Fucking Deus Ex Machina shit. Just pulling stuff out of your ass right at the end. You know, the famous lock ring of the Anderson family, as you know.


Which indeed was, of all things, the one most intimately connected with the history of the haunting, which is why I didn't tell you why I did here, so that's why I never did.


Yeah, it's why has now been brought up at all. This ring was handed on from father to son through generations and always in obedience to some ancient family tradition. Each son had to promise never to wear the ring.


Oh, right.


Cool ring to keep around the ring, I may say, was brought home by one of the Crusaders under very peculiar circumstances. But the story is too long to go into here.


No, by all means, please tell me the more interesting shit like how many points a star has gone and how and how many inches you nudged a jar of water.


How many holes you probed? It appears that young Sir Holbert, an ancestor of Andersens, made a bet in drink, you know, that he would wear the ring that night. The mad lad. Oh, my God, I'm going to wear the ring. He did so. And in the morning, his wife and child were found strangled in the bed, in the very room. The ring to it, the ring.


It was the ring. Definitely the ring. Many people, it would seem, thought young Sir Holbert was guilty of having done the thing in drunken anger. And he, in an attempt to prove his innocence, slept a second night in the room. He also was strangled.


Well. Case closed, resolved everyone. Since then, as you may imagine, no one has ever spent a night in the gray room until I did so, the ring had been lost so long that it had become almost a myth. And it was the most extraordinary to stand there with the actual thing in my hand, as you can understand. Look at it another so the butler who the buyer who cleans the room, right, didn't the butler say he cleans the room?


Yeah, why is it always too busy messing up? Why is it like no one's ever been in there to find the ring when the butler was wasn't there to clean?


I don't know. Can you see it to me? There was yes, there was a word there, your turn. All right, all right. It was whilst I stood there looking at the ring that I got an idea supposing that were, in a way, a doorway.


You see what I mean? Sort of gap in the world hedge. It was a queer idea, I know, and probably was not my own, but came to me from the outside.


You see, the wind had come from that part of the room with a ring like I thought a lot about it. Then the shape, the inside of a pentacle, it had no mounts.


And without my knowing what a as as Hamas has it, the amounts which are the five hills of safety to lack is to give power to the demon and surely to favor the evil thing.


You see, the very shape of the ring was insignificant and I just haven't tested my unmade the pentacle.


Can you possibly understand what must be made afresh and around the one to be protected? Then I went out and locked the door, after which I left the house to get that matters for they could not find a wire. Must be used a second time once a year.


Lease word for I have turned a little English word for seven thirty and as soon as the things I had brought had been carried up to the room, I dismissed Peter for the night, just as I had done the evening before. When he had gone downstairs, I let myself into the room and locked and sealed the door. I went to the place in the centre of the room.


All the stuff had been packed and set to work with all my speed to construct a barrier about me and the ring.


I do not remember whether I explained it to you, but I had to. You did. If the ring were in any way a medium of admission and it were enclosed with me in the electric pentacle, it would be to express it loosely insulated.


Do you see the forms which had a visible expression of the hand would have to stay beyond the barrier which separates the AB from the normal, from the gateway through to removed from accessibility, as I was saying.


So you observe.


I watch my speed to get the barrier completed about me and the ring was already later than I had to be in that room unprotected.


Also, I had a feeling that there would be a vast effort made that night to regain the use of the ring, for I had the strongest conviction that the ring was a necessity to materialisation. You will see whether I was right. Just fucking get rid of it.


I completed the barriers and about an hour and you can imagine something of the relief I felt when I felt some magical glare of the electric pentacle once more, all about me.


From then onward. For about two hours, I sat quietly facing the corner from which the wind came.


At about 11:00 o'clock, Aquia knowledge came that something was near to me, yet nothing happened for a whole hour after that. Then suddenly I thought the cold square wind began to blow up on me. To my astonishment, it seems now to come from behind me and I whipped round with hideous quake of fear.


The wind met me in the face, was blowing up one floor close to stare down a sickening maze of new frights. What on earth had I done now? The ring was there close beside me, where I had put it. Suddenly, as I stared bewildered, I was aware that there was something queer about the ring, funny, shadowy movements and convolutions. I looked at them stupidly and then never do anything.


I knew that the wind was blowing up at me from the ring. Queer, indistinct smoke became visible to me, seeming to pour upward through the ring and mixed with the moving shadows. Suddenly I realized that I was in more than any mortal danger for the convoluting. Shadows about the ring were taking shape and the death hand was forming within the pentacle. My goodness. Do you realize that I brought the gateway into the pentacles and the proof was coming through, pouring into the material world as gas my pour out from the mouth of a pipe?


I should think that I knelt for a moment in a sort of stunned fright. Then, with a mad, awkward movement, I snatched at the ring intending to hurl it out of the pentacle. Yet it eluded me as though some invisible living thing jumped at hither and thither. At last man, he repeated in the same instant, it was torn from my grasp, was incredible and beautiful as a great black shadow covered it and rose into the air and came at me.


I saw that it was the hand, vast and nearly perfect and form. I gave one crazy yell and jumped over the pentacle and the ring of burning candles and read despairingly for the door. I fumbled idiotically and ineffectually with the key, and all the time I stared with a fear that was like insanity tore the barriers. The hand was plunging toward me. Yet even as it had been unable to pass into the Pentagon when the brink was without. So now the ring was within.


It had no power to pass out. The monster was chained as surely as any beast would be watching and riveted upon it. I know it changes like think you can't even possibly understand a change.


I got a flash of this knowledge, but I was too utterly shaken with fright to reason.


And the instant I managed to get the key tand I sprang into the passage and slammed the door with Crush. I locked it and got to my room. Somehow I was trembling so that I could hardly stand.


As you can imagine, I locked myself in and managed to get the candlelit. I lay down on my bed, kept quiet for an hour or two, and so I got started.


I got a little sleep later, but woke when Peter brought my coffee.


When I had trouble in disguise, I felt altogether better and took the old man along with me whilst I had to look into the gray room. I opened the door and peeped in the candles, were still burning warm against the daylight. And behind them was a pale, glowing star, the electric pentacle. And there in the middle was the ring, the gateway of the monster lying to me. An ordinary nothing in the room was touched, and I knew that the brute had never managed to cross the pentacles.


Then I went out and locked the door. After a sleep of some hours, I left the house. I returned in the afternoon. A cab had with me an oxy hydrogen jet and two cylinders containing the gases. I carried the things into the gray room and there in the center of the electric pentacle, I erected the little furnace. Five minutes later, the lacquering once the luck. But now the bane of the Anderson family was no more than a little solid splash of hot metal.


Well, finally, Coraki felt in his pocket and pulled out something wrapped in tissue paper. He passed it to me. I opened it and found a small circle of grayish metal, something like led only harder and rather brighter. Well, I asked at length after examining it and handing it round to the others that stop the haunting Karnack, he nodded. Yes, he said, I slept three nights in the great room before I left. Old Peter nearly fainted when he knew that I meant to.


But by the third night, Excited seemed to realize that the house was just safe and ordinary.


And, you know, I believe in his heart he hardly approved. Kolonaki stood up and began to shake hands. Out you go, he said gently.


And presently we went pondering to our various homes.


Fuck out of my house. Yes. I can't fucking Parises, you get the gift card again. No, I don't know what you've got to the end. You're the one that yeah.


Five dollars, five dollars off at the Olive Garden at breadsticks.


Oh, 10 bucks at best limit on limited to five dollars.


There actually was a limit on the breadsticks.


I worked at Olive Garden briefly. There was a lot. Huh. What's that so wrong. That's the only reason to be there. And they take it away. It was a really high limit and it was like 20 servings or something.


Guys, I have never attempted an accent for any period of time. And I think I did like 10 different English.


You went? Yeah, I think you I think you got through the entirety of the you you went from like Harry Potter.


You went from Harry Potter to Hermione by like around the second or third run through.


I just I was like, fuck, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just I'm just fucking wiggling through different areas of England. It's fine. Or the UK, I should say. And that's okay. At least I didn't end up to Irish or Scottish at any point.


Yeah, you didn't. That's why I didn't go full. Dick Van Dyke. Serrefine.


That's why I didn't go for the accent, ok. Oh boy. Oh boy. That was the thing I really, really liked about this story. I love that the ghost was a hand and as a result it could only do hand stuff.


Yeah. You know, so like, I really I love to imagine it was just like open the door closed or open and also to understand why they were like, oh, we're so scared of the door opening and closing.


And also it throws stuff on the floor like whatever. I don't I don't know. And it took so long for him to just explain very basic shit. It's just such a waste. I like that he had been withholding the entire time.


The interesting part of the story. Yeah.


The the luck ring that we just didn't know about until what the penultimate paragraph. That's why it's way more frantic the moment, if you will.


Yeah, it was.


Oh, did he ever explain how the pentacle was electric battery. Battery. Yeah. I mean I know there was a battery but I don't remember. I mean I know I read it but I don't remember what it was hooked up to. Like sucked up to vacuum tubes and wires. Yes.


Oh vacuum tubes. Yeah you're right that.


Oh I don't really know why vacuums are important, you know, like a guitar amp. Yes, the tubes in the back of a guitar tube amp, yes, yes, those are vacuum tubes and that there was a vacuum inside. I know.


Well, you just I know that there you so you just I am aware just that you don't understand with the vacuum tubes, it's different from a solid state amp. You see. That does not have them. No. Anyway, I thought you said you didn't know whether there was a vacuum.


I'm sorry, I didn't mean to mansplaining. Could you possibly comprehend the vacuum? Yeah. Can you can you understand vacuum tubes. They have better own batteries. No, I'm an idiot. I was still clinging on a shit about guitars.


Slipping is more rounded, you see.


All right. So, folks, can we fix this story? Yes. Yes. How someone other than Karnac could tell Kolonaki dies. The cat lives done.


Yes, the cat. The cat. Well, OK. At some point he figures out it's a hand because it stops. That's a guess. No, he figures out it's a hand because it jerks him off and the butler comes in.


Yeah. And you see those larger hand and not me. Like, really. You turn me down every night and then the fucking inspector shows up. Yeah. What if and then there's. Yeah. Just some weird like Specter feeling orgy and you know that's that's cool. OK, so that's definitely a or koronakis spirit. Get sucked into the cat and then he's a cat for the rest of his adventures.


I would also be downtimes unfair to the cat.




And that's then they're back here but then the ghost handbrakes all the bones and koronakis body and he's like, oh cat forever now.


Oh well hey honestly Kolonaki the cat ghost finder would be a way more entertaining.


Yeah. I'd much rather go to dinner at that guy. Yeah, I agree. What if. All right. So can fuck a lot of talk that I have an idea.


What if the cat was the one that dragged the ring into the pentacle. That would be fun.


Yeah, that would be first ghost. Yeah.


Was the cat doesn't know about this whole electric pentacle thing. So like Koronakis like all upset that the cat's about to do some cat shit and like knock the ring off of the bedpost or something into the pensacola's like a not exactly.


And then like that's all it takes to trap the hands. Yeah. All right, well, I don't know if we have anything else to say about this. I just want to point out that. So it opens with Arkwright, Jessup and Taylor also being there and effecting nothing, either in the tone of the story or the way it goes or in the telling of it, they're just they're silent and staring as Kolonaki asked them if they could possibly understand.


I think both of them and Karnac wishes they weren't. Why does he have four friends? He barely has one.


I know. My other question is like, why is he so quick to kick them the fuck out of his house? He's like, Oh, I just finished last sentence, get the fuck out of here. Like outros. Like we're not even gonna have some fucking coffee. Like, come the fuck down. Oh, OK. That's another fix. When he kicks everyone out in, like, such a goddamn hurry, he pulls out from his other pocket the actual ring and he's like, just you and me tonight.


Oh yeah. It's a much better and good job. Good job. Oh man. Yeah I, yeah I, I don't understand why people like the story so much.


I think they suck people like these stories.


Kolonaki So Lovecraft could run no more like Kolonaki crawl so Lovecraft could roll down a hill screaming epithets. Yeah.


Oh, wow. All right, well, giving both of them too much credit like I know it's true, always seem to have lost Chris. So I guess I guess I'll just finish this up by myself. Chris is gone.


All right, Chris, you were a good host for the past three years. Thank you.


Great. Oh, perhaps Chris is returned to us. But anyway, I was to hear a special happy.


Oh, it's that special hand coming to us off all there is. Oh, all right. That's all right. Welcome back. So I was just going to close the show out unless we had any further comments.


No. That I don't like. I don't understand why people like these things that these seem like I just said, ghost stories.


Yes, well, then he can't keep things consistent, you know, like a revolver, a pistol, he can't go into too much detail about things that don't matter and then doesn't go into detail about things that should matter. Also, why are guns effective against ghosts?


That's still a thing I don't understand.


They're not they're never learned why it is.


But why does he think that? I don't understand why he has that that idea. You know, it's very odd. Yeah, I just I just don't I don't find these very compelling at all, these are not great, so. Well, and yet I love them so much. I love how terrible they are for sure. This was really fun. Thanks so much for doing this with us.


You know, having the antiques right here in Freaks here is always an honor and a privilege. And we really appreciate you all doing this with us. So thank you. Shucks, thanks for inviting us having us.


Thanks for reading. Chitti, Edwardian spec fic with us.


Oh dude. Like I mean, I'm sure we'll do this many times. You know, we have having you all on what was why must we do this Métis.


There's only five stories. Right. I want to get through all of this. All right, fine. I mean, someday, someday we will. Well, there are there are five stories in this collection. Oh, God. Oh, no.


Oh, well, did you sign up for Paris?


No, we can't.


Oh, well, anyway, thank you, antiques, for you for joining us. Thank you. Anyone on Twitter? I don't think anyone's here tonight, but that's fine. We didn't advertise. We just did this. So there's a few people. Lastly, thank you to our patron supporters. Of course. Thank you, Daury. Greg Will, Veronica de Jared Lin, Senya Ya'akov Bobby, black cat, John Cena, male cat Elliot, Kieran Martin and our newest patron, Jay.


If you also want to help support the show, like are the lovely folks that I just listed, you can become a patron on Patreon and you can also become a patron for the antiques freaks. I highly recommend doing so.


Another thing I highly recommend is joining the Antiques Freaks Friends Facebook group. I'm a member and it's very fun. Additionally, you can subscribe to our shows on whatever platform you choose, specifically YouTube for us, your book club or perhaps iTunes pod being Pod Chase or whatever. You can share our shows.


You can also read and review them again on any app that you see fit. If you want to contact us here at GBC, you can find us on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, or you can send an email to terrible book club at Gmail dot com freekeh and Tiki's. Where Can Folks Find You and talk to you?


You can email us directly at antiques for podcast at Gmail dot com or head up the aforementioned Facebook group and for its friends. Look at you also streamlined. We just got shit everywhere, but y'all look great, just like only two options. Like we tried other things and they all suck really bad. Yeah. Yeah, actually, I can confirm. I can confirm. That's true. Oh well I hope all OK out there. It's it's been pretty hot up here in New England where we all are.


But otherwise things are, you know, things are continuing to get things running again in Paris existing thanks to our existing. And with that, no matter how much I wish you would stop.


And with that, I think we'll leave you for this evening. We leave, you tend to listeners. Watch out for special hands. Oh, you know, I don't get jerked off by a spectral hand or get tempted by spectral ass cheeks, have a great night, wipe out no promises.