Ep.16 – Deb, Debbie, Deborah - Twisted Valentine's Day Horrors

Explicit content warning

02/12/20 • 37 min

Weekly Spooky: Scary Stories, Urban Legends & Horror Every Week

Episode Notes
A grieving and suicidal widow gets a very unexpected visitor on a snowly Valentine's Day, but nothing is quite what it seems...
Deb, Debbie, Deborah by Shane Migliavacca
Music by Ray Mattis
http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
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Transcript:
Deb Debbie Deborah
The cat thinks I’m fucking nuts. She may be right. I’m wearing my nicest dress, Dean Martin is on the stereo and I have a gun to my head. I’m dancing with my dead husband on Valentine’s Day.
Angel, our cat died three days ago. Her ashes sit on the mantle in an urn next to my husband’s. I see her on her favorite spot on the couch, watching me. She really is an angel now.
I pull the hammer of the revolver back... I’m ready to join them.
Click.
“Son of a bitch!”
Empty.
“Good job Deborah.”
I forgot the fucking bullets. I drop the snub nose on the coffee table. I haven’t found where Johnny hid the bullets.
He bought the gun for me, worried about us being all alone out here in the boondocks. What good is a gun if the bullets are hidden?
Excuse me Mr. Rapist, while I find the bullets to shoot you.
_ _
Maybe Johnny never got around to buying any.
“Ain’t that a kick in the head, Dean?”
I drop to the couch defeated. My mind isn’t what it used to be. Grief and despair have pushed everything else out to the point that I have trouble dealing with day to day shit. It’s for the best I suppose.
I’m not a religious woman, but I’d like to think there was something waiting you know? After... that I could be with them in some kind way. If there is a God and suicide is a sin, I’d better not risk it. Being sent to hell, I’d never see them again. If you ask me, this is hell. This world.
Johnny. My Johnny. I miss that lopsided grin of yours. The way your stubble felt when you kissed me. How your hair fell across your eyes when you woke up. The touch of your course hands on my shoulders.
Gone. All gone.
Five and a half years ago, a drunk driver named Dave Robbins. Johnny had been on his way home from work when the bastard ran a red light and struck Johnny’s car. I still remember the trooper showing up at work. He stood there in his uniform, looking so out of place. His words were unintelligible as my heart pounded in my ears.
They gave that man ten years in prison. Ten fucking years! He took away our future and they gave him ten years. He got out in four for good behavior. Good fucking behavior. I dreamed about killing him for so long. How I’d do it, how I’d drag it out, make him suffer. I’d even toyed with the idea of killing his family in front of him.
But no. There was Angel to think of.
The cat, a house warming present from Johnny, got me through that first grim year.
She was there for me when I got home from another dreary day at work. Happy to see me, purring her feline heart out. She was such a tiny little thing when he surprised me with her.
She hid under the couch for the first couple days, until one night I sat on the couch watching the evening news, waiting for Johnny to come home from work. I felt something small and warm curl up next to me. Now she’s gone to. I’m left all alone in this house that used to represent our future together. A house that’s become a tomb.
The house was so empty and vast when I’d come home from the vet carrying little Angel’s ashes in a small container. Nobody there to greet me at the door. I dread the thought of coming home after a day at work to this empty, godforsaken place.
But I’ll have to.
I took a couple sick days, told Emily I had a bug. They don’t need to know the real reason. Most of them look at me with some sort of pity. Walking on eggshells around me. The others treat me as if this sickness in my heart can simply be sent away. That I should be able to “Get over it” and move on.
There is no moving on.
I could take some medication I guess. Something to help me. At the cost of this hornet’s nest of pain in my stomach. The pain that helps me remember them... that keeps them in my thoughts. Would I lose their memory in a haze of medication?
The record ends. I stare at the snub nose. I should really find those bullets.
There’s other ways I could do it. Pills sure or the old razor in the bathtub bit. Those are easy enough I suppose. Hanging myself is off the table. I can’t tie knots for shit. Besides some idiot might think I w...

Previous Episode

Ep.15 – A Sunken Heart in Hino Bay - A Story of Drowning in Love

Episode Notes
Ayumi has a big crush on her teacher, and also a call to the sea... But something is in the water, and it's not love...
A Sunken Heart in Hino Bay by Jeff Carpenter
Music by Ray Mattis
http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
Get Cool Merchandise http://store.weeklyspooky
Support us on Patreon http://patreon.com/IncrediblyHandsome
Contact Us/Submit a Story
twitter.com/WeeklySpooky
facebook.com/WeeklySpooky
[email protected]
This episode sponsored by HenFlix.com
For everything else visit WeeklySpooky.com
Transcript:
"All life emerged... crawled out from the sea... now I don't know what's crawling out."
HINO BAY HIGH SCHOOL SCIENCE/ BIOLOGY CLASS MONDAY - 2:43 PM
Ayumi scribbles into her notebook, hunched over her desk, protecting her work. Her eyes are obscured by black horn rims matching her long jet-black hair tied into a pony tail.
"Are you like in Grade 3?"
A girl beside her with dyed brown hair grabs the notebook off Ayumi's desk. The pen leaves a streak across the page.
She turns to a second girl and shows her the notebook.
The second girl makes a sour face, gesturing dismissively at the drawings in a lined notebook page. Cartoons. A girl sun-bathing in a boat reading a book. And below her myriad sea creatures frolicking in the deep. An octopus and crab feasting on something.
The girl points at a figure farther down the page...
A masked scuba diver rising to the surface holding something in his hand...
"Oh my god... is that Mr. Hirada? What is that in his hand... what has he got... a pearl? A present? For you?"
She and her friend laugh at the suggestion. Ayumi tries to grab it.
"Give it back!"
"He'd only kiss you if you had gills and a tail!" "She already smells like she does!"
"GIVE IT BACK!"
There is a crack at the front of the class. The student's heads turn to the front. The teacher rests his hand on a book atop of some scattered papers on his desk. "Ayumi, please see me after class."
"Ooooooooohh...!" the two girlfriends coo in chorus.
Ayumi holds a stack of textbooks in crossed arms close to her chest.
"I'm not sure what's come over you. You were disturbing the class today. And you haven't handed in your assignment yet. Usually you're a very well behaved, punctual student. What's gotten into you?"
She can't meet his eyes.
"Tomorrow, Mr. Hirada. Tomorrow."
AYUMI'S HOUSEHOLD - MONDAY - 6:49 PM
The melted chocolate cools in the bowl on the double boiler.
On the counter beside the stove are a box of sea salt, a jar of raspberry jam, a bowl of herring roe, a collection of spoons and heart-shaped moulds.
Ayumi's grandfather walks up behind her, looking over her shoulder. Surprises her.
"For a boy? It's good you take an interest in normal school life outside of the tales you read in your books. It's good you spend time with people your own age. Dead authors and old men like me are not ideal companions for young girls."
Ayumi ignores her grandfather and increases her focus on spooning the jam into the cooled chocolate moulds.
With intense deliberation she plucks two individual eggs from the herring roe, and placing them side by side in the raspberry jam. Squishing them together in the gooey jam, they leak their briny golden insides into the surrounding compote.
She sprinkles a pinch of sea salt into the moulds, finishing her creation with a flourish. "Could I have a taste of that chocolate though? Reminds me of your grandmother." TUESDAY - VALENTINE'S DAY - 1:56 PM
A girl bumps into Ayumi in the hall. She drops her books and makes a desperate grab as the red cardboard box folded in the shape of a clamshell, slips from her fingers. As she bends over to pick them up, she notices a boy (a strong, athletic boy from her gym class) looking at her with a kind of faint smile she hasn't seen before and she sees that her skirt is riding high up her legs. She straightens up and pulls her skirt down. The boy still has the funny look on his face, and he looks weak somehow, as if all his strength has leaked away. Just by looking at her. She feels flushed and rushes to class.
"What's this?"
Mr. Hirada flips the cardboard clamshell open on his desk, revealing the chocolates within.
Ayumi looks at the Valentine's Day present on display-- one of the heart chocolates cracked from the fall.
"It's for... It's for you."
"Ayumi, I can't accept this. You know it is inappropriate for a student to offer such gifts to her teacher. I'm sorry. It looks like you put a lot of work into this gift, but I just can't."
Ayumi hugs her books tight and shuffles to her seat.
Otani, the grizzled old janitor, totters into the classroom and empties the waste paper basket by the teacher's desk. He winks at the gang of girls huddled together, gossiping and giggling.
One of the girls with dyed-brown hair leans over to Ayumi and hisses at her.
"If yo...

Next Episode

Ep.17 – Hysterhysteria - Medical Nightmare Horror

Episode Notes
In a mysterious dark room covered in broken glass Alicia is about to learn that terror can come in small packages...
Hysterhysteria by Joe Solmo
http://PennedinBlood.com
Music by Ray Mattis
http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
Get Cool Merchandise http://store.weeklyspooky
Support us on Patreon http://patreon.com/IncrediblyHandsome
Contact Us/Submit a Story
twitter.com/WeeklySpooky
facebook.com/WeeklySpooky
[email protected]
This episode sponsored by HenFlix.com
For everything else visit WeeklySpooky.com
Transcript:
Hysterhysteria
By Joe Solmo
Alicia lay in the dark, someplace warm and damp. She felt heavy, almost like being underwater. Her movement was slow, the resistance in the air around her making her feel tired. She looked around at her surroundings. Strange shapes were barely visible in the dark jutted at bizarre angles. What were they? Where was she?
The last thing she remembered was getting ready for bed. Brushing her teeth and changing into her comfy yellow pajamas she had since she was fifteen. Was this some kind of alien abduction? She half joked to herself.
“Hello?” she called out into the space around here, becoming aware at how total the silence was until she spoke. A few seconds passed and she felt her heart start to race. She was alone. A dread came over her as the hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention.
Throughout her life she hated being alone. She loved being around people and learning their stories. She loved learning how other people thought, and their points of view. It fascinated her. There was no one now for her to talk to. She was alone with her own thoughts, and that was scary enough for her.
Growing up with no self esteem wasn’t unique to Alicia, but the constant failures in her writing career took its toll on her until she gave up and just took the first job she could find to pay the bills. She worked at a pet store for a little over minimum wage. That was where she met John. He was a slacker that would always make her laugh with his “minimum wage, minimum effort” attitude. Slowly, the time she spent writing was less and less. She couldn’t remember the last time she wrote anything.
She sat up on the bed she was laying on. Her abdomen hurt. Instinctively she placed her right hand on the pain and pulled it back as an electric sharpness shot through her body. Her hand felt odd, there was something on her hand, but it was too dark to see. It felt tacky, and her thoughts instantly went to blood.
This time with more caution, she ran her fingers over her abdomen. There was definitely an injury there. Blood, drying. Was her wound fresh? The blood didn’t feel warm to her. A tear began to form in her eye.
There was a scuttling in the dark, something off to the right. How big was this room, she wondered? “Hello?” she called out again. “Is someone there?” Again, she heard the shuffling. She strained to see in the almost complete darkness.
Alicia held her breath for a moment, trying to pick out the sound, but it had stopped. It was almost like it knew she was listening for it. She clutched her stomach and headed towards one of the shapes she could make out in the dark. The tile floor was cold on her bare feet. Two steps later she felt a sharp pain in her foot and fell to the floor with a gasp of pain. Her stomach felt like fire as well from the drop. She ran her hand down to her foot and found a piece of broken glass embedded in the flesh of her heel.
Alicia tried to grip it with her hands, but they were still coated with blood. It took several tries before she pulled the glass out. She held it up to her face but there wasn’t enough light to see the culprit of her foot pain. She wondered if her stomach was injured by the same glass? Did she fall through a window?
The shuffling came again, and another noise, she couldn’t make it out. Alicia stared in the direction of the noise and tried to pull her legs under her, protectively. Pain raced up her legs as she realized the floor was covered in broken glass.
She winced, but tried to remain silent, listening for the only sound that wasn’t her. It was horrifying and comforting all in one. She wasn’t alone, but what was with her in this room? The shuffling was still faint, but she felt like it was getting closer. Who was out there in the dark?
She ran her fingers gingerly down her legs, plucking out the small pieces of glass as she heard the shuffling getting ever closer. “Who are you?” she screamed into the darkness, frustration fueling the yell.
A small noise, a gurgle maybe? What the hell is going on...