Episode 37: Shaper

Narrator: Welcome to Ghost Wax, a Far and Tall Tales Production. The following story may contain graphic content. Listener discretion is advised. 

[Intro Music]

Episode 37, Shaper

Recorder clicks on  

 Angiers: This is order agent Angiers, Blade Gold.

Nash: And agent Faraday, Blade Silver.

Angiers: with instructional observation by

Kat: Kat

Angiers: They are going to want your full name.

Kat: Katherina Gray. 

Nash: Somebody likes Shakespeare. 

Angiers: beginning field recording as per request of Order Master Olivia Biers Weather.

Nash: Remember, you’re just here to watch. See how we do things, if it’s something you could do. 

Kat: I know.

Nash: Just hang back, stay out of the way. 

Kat: Seriously, I know. We’ve been over this at least seven times. 

Angiers: He just loves the sound of his voice.

Nash: I just–I just want to make sure everyone knows the plan. Make sure everyone’s safe.

Angiers: Yeah. I know.  This won’t be like New York.  It's different now.

Nash: Taking the blade is one thing, using it is another.

Angiers: I’m ready.

Knocking

Nash: Hello, this is the city, we have a report of a gas leak. Quieter Gas leaks get people to hop to.

Pause

Kat: Maybe no one’s home?

Nash: No, there’s someone inside. The Embrian can feel them. 

Kat: holding back revulsion How does it… communicate with you?

Angiers: It’s not pleasant.

Nash: It’s useful.

Angiers: useful and disgusting.

Kat: great…

Knocks and yells one more time, more insistent]

Nash: Right, stand back. 

Kat: What are you doing–Jesus stop!  

Nash: We need to get in.

Angiers: cheeky Where in “stay back and observe” did you get lost? 

Kat: There are easier ways than KICKING IN THE DOOR. Give me two seconds.

Crunch of gravel

Kat: Spare key. She has the same fake rock Julie did.

Angiers: impressed Look at the newbie working smarter.

Door opens. Nash announces them again

Nash: Hello, we are coming inside…  Shit. I’ve got a body here in the hallway. Human, female, mid to late 20s. 

Kat: Is that who we were looking for?

Nash: Doesn’t match the description.

Angiers:  It’s the roommate.  There are two women on the lease.  Embrian definitely picked up life inside the house, but not from her.  Dead a few hours.  

Nash: Here–the bedroom door is locked.

More knocking

Viki: No no no no no. What now? I didn’t do it, I wasn’t thinking, no. 

Nash: We’re here to help.

Viki: You’re real?

Nash: Very real. Open the door. 

Viki: No, I can’t. Please, you have to go. 

Nash: coming in.

Sound of a door shoving open

Angiers: It's her.  Viki Mardet.

Viki: I don’t–I don’t know what’s happening, I don’t understand. You’re not safe. You have to go. Please just go. 

Kat: It’s alright–

Angiers: Kat, stay clear.

Nash: We’ve got it.

Kat: The fuck you do. She’s already terrified and you, sir, are making it worse. Gentler I’m just going to sit right here, ok? I’m not going to come any closer. I know you’re scared, but we really are here to help. 

Viki: Where’s Jamie? Is she ok?

Kat: Your roommate… She–

Nash clears his throat to try to cut her off, Kat continues anyway

Kat: She’s dead. I’m so sorry. 

Viki: Oh god, oh my god

Kat: Is that what you’re hiding from? The thing that did this to Jamie?

Viki: No, I think–I think I did it. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. I don’t–I can’t control it. God, I’m so sorry. What’s happening to me? 

Kat: Hey, just breathe, yeah? We’re gonna figure this out. I get it, ok? Not THIS exactly, but things happening that you can’t explain? Things that SHOULDN’T be real. I get it. Talk me through what’s going on. Let us help.

Viki: I don’t want to hurt you.

Nash: Not something to concern yourself with.  We are very armed.

Kat: Seriously? Still not helping. gentler again We’re going to be a lot safer if you help us understand what’s been happening. Trust me, we can handle it. 

Viki: I–ok. 

Angiers: Embrian says there’s movement in the basement.

Nash: I’ll cover the hall.  Don’t take too long.

Angiers: Don’t want to rush an assessment, Voncid will flip.

Nash: Not that he’ll be thrilled if we are thorough…

Kat: Don’t mind them, tell us what happened.

Viki: Ok, yeah, I guess…you know… umm, what intrusive thoughts… um are, right? Everyone gets them, I know that, I know everyone does… That nagging urge at the back of your head, not quite a fully formed thought, as you stare down from the bridge, watch the water writhe around turquoise and white… it tells you to jump, just to see what would happen. It, uh, asks if you’re sure you saw the cat before you started the washing machine and even though you know you did… you have to go check. It wonders if it’s true that it takes the same amount of force to bite through a finger as it does a carrot,. 

Mine are… I think, more.  More… um, …vivid. They keep building, into a visceral, full body certainty that I am going to die.  That the pressure of them is going to be fatal. I can see it, like a flashback, but of something that’s never happened. That never WILL happen. It’s full fight or flight and I just… freeze. My heart pounds, my palms sweat, but I cannot make myself move. Can’t make myself stop imagining it. 

Like you know that girl from The Ring? I don’t, I I mean, I never watched the movie, I hate scary movies, but one time in high school I saw the trailer and ended up absolutely convinced that, that girl, with the waterlogged skin and the stringy black hair and the… bulging eye… was… um, living in the gap between my bed and the wall. High school. Way too old to be afraid of monsters under the bed. I stood there for ages, trying to get myself to take the five fucking steps it would have taken me to cross the room to look behind the bed and I could. not. do. it. I ended up in my parents’ room, crying from embarrassment and terror. I made my mom get out of bed and come into my room to look before I would go to bed. Nothing there, of course.

I wonder now if that still would have been true if I had been the one to look.

Kat: Does that still happen?

Viki: Sometimes? I’ve gotten better at dealing with them. Learned to practice mindfulness and centering and breathing, to tune in to what my body was really trying to tell me [slightly mocking] with the waves of fear that locked me in place. Started prozac. But they never really went away. Maybe because I’m just an anxious person and meds can only do so much. 

Maybe because they weren’t all in my head. 

Kat: What do you mean?

Viki I don’t KNOW. I don’t know what I mean. I don’t know what’s happening.

Kat: Ok, it’s ok. You’re doing great, really. Just keep going. 

Viki Today…it was just a really bad day at work. I’m supposed to be at two elementary schools, but with budget cuts and staff shortages, I’m one of two social workers for the whole district. I barely know the kids, certainly don’t the kind of relationships I’d envisioned, the imagined smiles and hugs and, sometimes, tears that had got me through grad school. 

The hope of doing something.

 I certainly had not imagined spending all my time giving assessments and filing paperwork and going to court because of course the kid hasn’t been in school for the past week, their family doesn’t have food. 

But, today, we had a lice outbreak, and who better to line up the kindergarteners and check their heads than the social worker. Exactly what I’d gone thousands of dollars into debt for. Later, sitting at the child-sized table in the corner of the nurse’s office that I pretended was my desk, trying to catch up on the dozens of things I hadn’t done while I was checking children’s hair for bugs, I could feel them scuttling around on my head. 

I knew it was ridiculous. I’d worn gloves, scrubbed my hands between each itchy little head, couldn’t possibly have gotten any on me. But my skin still crawled. 

We hear a light subtle skittering and chitinous insect crawling building over the following

I tried to ignore it, to focus on the piles of paperwork I had to finish before I could finally go home and collapse on my couch with a glass of wine, after a scalding hot shower, but I couldn’t shake it. The idea of all those little legs scurrying around, your skin becoming a writhing carpet of living things. I couldn’t help it anymore, I reached up and raked my hand across my neck. I hadn’t thought I’d scratched that hard, but my fingers came away streaked with blood. Red and, when I looked closer, a tiny insect body crushed under my nails. 

Kat: Ew. 

Viki: Yeah. So.I yelped, which was not a noise I knew I was capable of making, and jumped up from the desk. Thank God Angie, one of the second grade teachers, was still in her classroom. Angie and I got along well, not exactly close, she was older than my mom, but friendly enough. If I was going to force someone to check my head for bugs she was at the top of my list. She agreed, bless her, even pulled a comb out of her purse to go through my hair. She swore nothing was there.

I couldn’t stop apologizing.

“It’s fine, hon! Promise, I have grandkids. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve done this. But you’re good! Nothing there!”

We hear a ringing in her ears build over the following

And then, this new thought crept into my head. Stop talking. You’re being annoying. She hates you. Who the fuck asks their coworker to examine their head? So unprofessional. Why are you even here?

It was so, not loud, exactly. I wasn’t hallucinating, I didn’t hear it. But I knew it. I felt it. I could barely focus on what Angie was saying. Why are you wasting my time? Did you really not have anyone else you could have asked? Pathetic. 

Until I realized that it wasn’t in my head. Sweet, motherly Angie had just called me a stupid bitch. 

“Everyone hates you, you know. You’re doing a terrible job. We have a bet on how long you’ll last. Safe money says you won’t come back after summer vacation.” She grinned. “I say you don’t make it past spring break.”

I just stared at her. She grinned wider. 

“Are you going to cry now?”

I turned on my heel and ran. I stopped by my stupid little desk just long enough to grab my bag and booked it. I made it to my car before I started sobbing. Everything I’d laid awake worrying about, it was all true. It wasn’t imposter syndrome, I actually sucked. And everyone knew it. 

I closed my eyes, made myself do the stupid breathing exercises I taught the kids. In through the nose, smell the flower. Out through the mouth, blow the dandelion. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Again and again and again until the breaths didn’t catch in my throat in awful hiccuping gasps. 

Eventually, I got myself together enough to drive home. Mainly because I didn’t want Angie to find me crying in my car. I turned up the music and sang at the top of my lungs. Anything to get her face out of my head. 

I almost made it home. I was stopped at a light, an intersection I went through every single day. I didn’t like the song that had come on, but the light was about to change and I didn’t trust myself to try to find a different one. I was already distracted enough. Plus I’m a rule follower. No phones while driving and all that. So my mind was wandering. 

A very faint background sound of crashing metal and automobile accidents drifts in over the following

And what it came up with was “what if a semi just ran the light and plowed straight into you?” I could see it–the blur of red careening through the intersection, the driver’s eyes wide as they met mine instants before dissolving into a spiderweb of shattered glass; hear it–the screech of metal folding and tearing, horns honking, someone screaming; feel it–the sudden force shoving me sideways, a sharp pain as my head slammed into the steering wheel. God, I could fucking smell it. The dust from the airbag, burning rubber from the other cars desperately braking and swerving, my own blood and sweat. 

The only thing that was real was the horns. The light had turned green and the cars behind me were pissed. So much for not being distracted.

I swear I looked both ways. The light was green, and had been for several seconds, based on the number of horns blaring behind me, and even so, I checked that nothing was coming before I pulled into the intersection. 

And got t-boned by a tractor trailer that came out of nowhere. Like, literally, out of nowhere. The road was clear and then an 18-wheeler with a bright red cab came barrelling through.  And it was all there. The driver’s eyes met mine as his truck hit my little Corolla, its sides crumpling like paper, the metal screaming, me screaming, the air filled with dust and smoke and the smell of blood. 

The police said it was a miracle I survived, let alone walked away from the accident. I lied when they asked me what happened, told the officer I just hadn’t seen the truck in time. It was easier than trying to explain what had happened. No one would believe it, I barely believed it, and a cop was the last person I wanted to talk to about a potential psychiatric break. But I was pretty sure I wasn’t. I know that I looked before I pulled into the intersection. The truck wasn’t there. 

I lied again when they asked how I was getting home. I said I’d called a friend, but the road was blocked and she had to park a few blocks away. I’d made a few friends since moving to the area, but no one I trusted enough to try to explain what was happening. And Angie’s voice was still ringing in my ears. “Everyone hates you.” I didn’t want to call anyone to come get me, when I wasn’t sure anyone would say yes. 

I barely remember the walk home. Maybe that’s what saved me. I wasn’t thinking about anything. I guess a concussion is good for something. 

All I wanted to do was take the hottest shower of my life, put on my pajamas, and crawl into bed. 

God, it’s so stupid. Such a fucking trope. I was stuck in a nightmare and I decided to take a shower. So fucking stupid. 

Kat: Hey, stop. You’d had a hell of a day. What happened next?

Viki I–I was covered in blood. I started the shower to let the water heat up and just kind of leaned over the sink to try to clean it off. It’s not too bad, thank God, just bled a lot, and I’d just about finished. But I got that awful down my spine. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, my shoulders and stomach clenched. I knew, knew,  that someone was there. That when I rinsed off the soap and looked in the mirror, I wouldn’t just see my face. Something would be there, just over my shoulder, staring. 

I tried to breathe, tried to tell myself that it had just been a really shitty day, that I was just upset. I dried my face, eyes still clenched tight. I  talked to myself, told myself nothing was there. Nothing would be there. Nothing could be there. I’d open my eyes, look in the mirror, and no one would be there. I gave myself another minute, bent over the sink, holding the towel to my face, negotiating with myself. Count to three, open your eyes. Nothing is there. Deep breath in. One, two. 

We hear monstrous chuckling and giggling rising over the following, monster echos and violin strings screeching and rising

I nearly screamed. It was standing there, right behind me, between me and the door. This huge smile… teeth like broken glass… Huge black eyes, sunk deep in a face thin enough to be skeletal, grayish skin stretched tightly across the protruding bones. Scraggly, lank black hair barely covering its greasy skull. Teeth like needles as it grinned, reaching towards me with long, knobbed fingers. 

I just reacted, shoving past that…whatever it was…down the hall to my room, slamming the door and locking it behind me. And I felt it. Not just where its nails had scraped against my throat, but its body. Light, hollow bones, almost like a bird’s. Sharp and brutal as I pushed it aside. 

I didn’t know what else to do. I just threw myself into the bed and pulled the covers up over me, all the way over my head, curled up as tightly as I could manage.

I–I didn’t realize my roommate [pauses, makes herself say the name] didn’t realize Jamie was home. This is her apartment. She needed someone to help make rent and I was new to the city and needed a cheap place to live. She–God I don’t even know why she was home. She was just getting started as a chef. Most days I was asleep when she got home and left before she got up. Why was she here?

Kat: I don’t know. I’m so sorry. 

Viki: I guess I must have actually screamed, or maybe she just heard the door slam. Whatever it was, she knocked on my door.

“Viki? You good in there?”

God, I’m so sorry. I wish I could tell you I did something. Even if it didn’t work. I wish I could tell you I tried. I didn’t. I just squeezed my eyes shut and pulled the covers even tighter. 

we hear rapid excited breathing followed by the creature giggling and chuckling over the following

I knew it was coming up behind her. I could hear the creak of the floorboards, the rattling of its breath. Jamie screamed, the sound cutting off almost instantly, disappearing inside of this… rip… then it was replaced by this awful gurgle that kept going even after these chewing sounds started… then these thumps… these rattling thumps as her body convulsed on the floor… oh my god, it ate her alive…

I knew what was happening, could see it all so clearly in my mind. But I don’t know what came first–it happening, or me imagining it. If I made it happen. Did I make it happen?  Oh my god… what did I do to deserve this?  I’m so sorry. 

Kat: Hey, don’t fall apart.  When was that?

Viki: I don’t know. Maybe 6? 

Nash: We’ve got more movement… 

we hear laughing and clattering from the basement.

Viki:  I’ve been trying not to think about it. Trying not to think about anything. Just…counting. My breaths, the stitches in my quilt, the whorls and marks in the floorboard. Anything that will keep the thoughts out. That will keep me from thinking about what happened and what could happen and I didn’t really even know what had happened except apparently my nightmares were true and maybe I made them come true.

We hear bare feet slapping on the hardwood, something running down the hall.

Nash: The manifestation is definitely still active.

Angiers: No… dammit.

Nash: What is that?  A three hour sustain?

Angiers: Angry but at the situation Fuck off.

Nash: It’s not my fault I can tell time.

Kat: What’s happening?

Angiers: Still. Fuck off.

Viki: What are they talking about?

We hear echoing laughter from within the house.

Nash: It’s already multiplied.

Angiers: God dammit.

Nash: Yeah, there’s a lot of them.  I can’t fight them all and keep us alive.

Kat: Let's get out of here, we have to help her.

Nash: She’s right.

Angiers: God.  Dammit.

We hear a Cathartic Blade being drawn.  It is metal, but sucks up sound and light.  It is a vile and disturbing material that drones with dark potential.

Kat: what the fuck is that, stop.

We hear more laughter from within the house, furniture overturning and snarls as the manifestations swarm towards them.

Nash: Here they come.

Angiers:  I’m sorry.

Kat: Don’t.

Viki: I didn’t mean to!

We hear a short scuffle as Angiers knocks Kat aside. The creatures are scrabbling t   owards them, louder

Viki: I’m sorry!

We need a few yelps of pain from Viki.

The creatures laughing and snarling become louder.  We hear several clean, loud, plunges of a knife through Viki’s skull. After the first the creatures laughing and approaching are cut off sharply as they are erased.

Nash: beat They're gone… collecting himself and hiding in technical language the um… the manifestations have discorporated.

Angiers: trying to control hyperventilation.  Wipes Viki’s blood off her mouth and shivers.  The… the subject…

Kat: what the fuck…

Angiers: the subject was confirmed to be utilizing The Power subconsciously.  The Shaper has been rendered… inert… gray matter disabled… ready for transportation to the Ardent for treatment and enrollment in the Observer program.

Kat: what the fuck did you do.

Nash: Hey, stop.  There was nothing else we could do.  We are lucky her roommate is the only casualty.  

Kat: but there had to be… something.

Nash: She made her own monster.  

Angiers: Then she sat here counting, trying to not make more, counting and counting, you get it? 

Kat: Exactly! She tried to stop. She didn’t mean to. 

Angiers: She tried to stop and she couldn’t. Look. You see that?  That pile of skin, and teeth?  All those faces?  Look at them before they finish fading.  You murdered a few soft feeders of Empress Bliss in some dirty alleys, so you think you know everything? Think you can fight a swarm of nightmares?  And even if you could, what if she got obsessed with a plague, or a meteor hitting Manhattan?

Kat: I… I don’t…

Angiers: Get it together.

Nash: This job sucks.

beat

Angiers: It’s not a job.  It’s a calling.

beat

Nash: Kat… you didn’t do great.

Kat: I…

Angiers: Don’t ever get in the way again.  This shit is hard enough without you getting in the fucking way.

click