448: Of Hunger and Harmony - Chilling Tales for Dark Nights

It's time to turn off the lights and turn on the dark. Chilling Tales for Dark Nights. Good evening, listener, and welcome back to Chilling Tales for Dark Nights. I'm Nicholas Goroff, once again filling in for Steve Taylor tonight, and I'm honored to be keeping you company in the dark. Tonight's episode explores a simple question with a complicated answer. What happens when help arrives, but the cost was never truly understood? When desperation meets opportunity, when pride collides with deception, and when hunger of every kind finds a voice, the results can be catastrophic. Sometimes the most dangerous weapon isn't a blade or a bullet. Sometimes it's a song. But before we begin tonight's feature tale, we have just a few important announcements. First, if you've been following the excitement of Evil Idol 2025, don't forget to subscribe to the Chilling Tales for Dark Nights YouTube channel and turn on notifications so you never miss an update. The competition continues to heat up and you won't want to miss what's coming next. You can also find Chilling Tales for Dark Nights on all major podcast platforms. If you enjoy what we do, please take a moment to leave us a 5-star rating in review. It helps more than you know, and it helps other horror fans find their way here. Looking for even more terror? Visit ChillingTalesForDarkNights.com and become a member today. For just $7.99 per month, or at a discounted annual rate, you'll receive early access to episodes, ad-free listening, exclusive bonus content and access to our complete back catalog of chilling tales. If you love horror, there's no better place to immerse yourself. Be sure to follow us on social media as well. You can find us on Facebook, X, Instagram, and TikTok, where we share updates, previews, and behind-the-scenes content from across the network. Now then, let's turn our attention to tonight's feature. Tonight's story was originally featured on Scary Stories Told in the Dark, Season 7, Episode 2, which first aired on August 18th, 2020. We're bringing it back to you tonight for a very special reason. This episode serves as a tribute to one of the foundational voices of our network, Otis Chiri. A long-time contributor and alum of Chilling Tales for Dark Nights, Otis was also the original host of scary stories told in the dark before Malcolm Blackwood took up the mantle. His distinctive voice and commanding presence helped define the sound of horror for countless listeners across hundreds of episodes. Tonight's Tale, written by Tanya Brown and performed by Otis Jiri, showcases that talent in full force. Produced by Craig Groshek, this story is a dark fable of pride, deception, and consequences, where music becomes a weapon, contracts become curses, and hunger becomes something far more literal than anyone expected. So settle in, dim the lights, and listen closely. From author Tanya Brown, we present Calliope. Nothing came to Phosphor Flats unless it came to die. That's what Calvin's dad told him, so that's what he believed. Even at 13, he was pretty sure he knew the truth when he heard it. Nothing good had ever come from the small, dusty town, and little had ever come all the time he had lived there. And considering he'd been born and raised in Phosphor Flats, that's saying a mighty lot. So the afternoon, a fancy wagon rolled into town. Calvin couldn't help but wonder what it was here for. It sure as heck didn't look like something that came here to die. The wagon was a huge thing, the size of a small house drawn by a pair of even larger oxen. Giant words all along the painted walls of yellow and green and purple proclaimed that the owner was here to help out the average citizen. that he was the cure for your every problem. What you think it's here for? Wyatt asked. Calvin shrugged. He didn't like Wyatt, but he liked the looks of the wagon even less. It was too flashy, too showy. The driver was even gaudier. A tall, thin man with wild wing hair sat in a single bucket seat at the head of the wagon. His clothes were as strange as he was. His suit, a nauseating patchwork of garish colors, hung loosely from his lanky frame. A blood-red string tie rested under his bearded chin. It was a ludicrous ensemble taught by a simple white straw hat. The man's smile was bright and wide and unsettling. Nah, Calvin didn't like the look of him at all. Don't know. Must be selling something. Too much writing on it to not be selling something. Yeah, Wyatt said, that's what I thought too. Calvin doubted that that was what Wyatt thought, because Wyatt's thoughts were never more than two feet from underneath the skirt of Lucy's stacks. The wagon came to a stop at the edge of the steps on which the boys were seated. The driver crawled down from the bucket seat. approaching the pair until they stood a few feet in front of the general store, all smile and strangeness and something else, something Calvin couldn't quite put his finger on. Afternoon, young men, the man said, his voice tinged with some strange accent. The creak of a door sounded from behind him, followed by the hollow clap of well-worn boots on the wooden porch. Calvin looked up to see his dad standing over him. Hey there, his father said. Hello, and well met. The stranger nodded to the building. Are you the proprietor of this lovely establishment? Yes, sir. Nice, very nice. Calvin's dad narrowed his eyes. Can I help you with something? You seem lost. "'Lost?' the stranger asked, then chuckled as if the very idea of such a thing amused him. "'Never. I always make a point to know exactly where I am, and—' "'In fact, I came all the way out here to help you.' "'Help us?' asked Sheriff Parker, quite out of breath but trying hard not to give the impression that he had just run the several hundred yards up from the one-room jailhouse. Calvin was beginning to wonder when the lawman was going to join the thick of things. The sheriff of a town as small as Phosphor had more time on his hands than a watchmaker's shop, so something like this was bound to be big news. And speaking of news, the strait was starting to fill up with folks. Men, women, and children all fouled out into the late afternoon to see what the heck was going on with the stranger and his alluring wagon. On an average day, most of these folks would have been back at their farms and ranches, working the land or tending their herds. But the stranger had rolled in on a Saturday, a day when nearly all of the town folk were about sharing fellowship as well as gossip. Sheriff Parker joined Calvin's dad on the steps and asked, What kind of help, mister? Elijah F. Topapot, at your service. The stranger said, then held his arms out and bowed low, almost to the ground. Calvin's dad snorted, And what service would that be? Topplepot lifted his head, that eerie grin a mile wide, as he eyed Calvin's dad a moment before he said, Why, I'm here to get rid of your rat infestation. A gasp rippled through the assembly of townsfolk. Sheriff Parker's head cocked back at the words, as if he couldn't believe the man had just said them. Calvin's dad shot Parker a sideways glance, then gave his son a quick frown. Calvin could hear Wyatt swallow hard beside him. Everyone seemed surprised, and rightly so. How could a complete stranger possibly know that Phosphor Flats was facing one of the worst rat infestations in the small town's history. It started perhaps a month ago. Just little signs here and there. Nibbles taken from cornbread left to cool. Holes in flour sacks. Apples half-eaten right in the barrel. Nothing out of the ordinary for springtime in a rural town. Then people started to see them. Rats swarming over the wheat stores Rats piled up in the fruit bins rats swimming up and down Dewey Creek and not just normal run vermin either No, these rats were the size of cats, with tails almost twice as long and crimson eyes that flashed in the dark, hinting at an unusual intelligence. They didn't seem scared of folks at all, either. hissing and biting whenever a human approached instead of scurrying off to find safe or fair. And they were unstoppable. In fact, the town had just held an emergency meeting on how to handle the problem, which resulted in the singular suggestion by Doc Jenkins to poison the entire lot. This would have been a fine idea, save for the fact that the town housed neither the required amounts of poison nor anyone with a wherewithal to purchase it. In the end, it was agreed that everyone would do what they could, which turned out not to be a whole lot. You've got to be kidding me, Parker said. Topplepot raised himself to his full height, almost offended by the remark. I never jest about my line of work, gentlemen. Forgive us for sounding ungrateful, Calvin's dad said, but we're just a little surprised. How did you know that you had a rat problem? Topplepot asked over him. It's my business to know, but, more plainly put, I've been chasing this infestation for nearly a year now. Chasing? Parker asked. Yes, chasing. Why, I've been trailing this little pack of particular pests all the way here from Three Forks Way. Calvin's dad's eyes went wide. That's over a hundred miles. The man nodded. I know, and I'm afraid my companions here have felt every inch of it. He paused to pat the rump of the nearest ox, which turned in place, to stare at his master with distaste. Calvin swore the man sneered at the oxen, giving them a look that said they should keep their snouts shut if they knew what was good for them. Then the man turned back to the now sizable crowd and began to do what Calvin could only describe as putting on a show. Ladies and gentlemen, I am a man with a purpose. I've been from the Mississippi to the Rio Grande. I've traveled from the Appalachians to the Pacific Ocean. I've seen many a fine town along my way. and may I stop to say for a moment that this is a lovely little place you have built here. Very nice, very nice indeed. But as I was saying, I've seen many a town along the way, towns just like yours, overrun by the very same vermin that taunt you even as we speak. Some of these towns I was able to assist. They welcomed a modest working man like myself to take on their worries and lift them from their fears, driving the very source of their concern from their settlement, freeing them from their vexation by proper extermination. A wave of excitement ran through the onlookers. Calvin had to admit that he was even curious. Could this man do what he claimed? Could he exterminate their problem? The man's eyes narrowed and his voice took on a cold clip. But then there were some. Only a few, mind you, who doubted my talents. Towns who thought they could handle the vermin on their own. My good people, I stand before you today humbled by the experience of what I saw, of what happened to those poor, poor citizens who took my serious profession into their own hands and their own doom. He hung his head and fell quiet. The crowd looked to one another. Everyone wanted to know what Topplepot saw, yet they were afraid to ask. But not Calvin. What did you see? He piped up. Topplepot cocked his head at Calvin as he said, Nothing. The crowd gave a collective groan, disappointed by the response. The man drew a deep breath and started his tirade again. Nothing at all was left of these villagers by the time the rats were done with them. Everyone fell into a shamed hush. Topplepot's voice echoed over their silence. I'm not here to tell you good townspeople that what you're dealing with is no ordinary breed of rat. They're vicious, they're violent, and they're not to be underestimated. But I, Elijah F. Topplepot, am here to do whatever it takes to rid you of this plague brought upon your lovely town. I will try. No, yea, verily, I shall rid you of these beasts once and for all. A gentle applause rose from the group, though most looked as if they were in some sort of half-trance brought on by the man's sing-song voice and wild eyes. How? Calvin asked. Topplepot turned to Calvin, a bemused look on his thin face. Excuse me, son? Calvin shrank under the man's gaze, but those eyes couldn't kill his curiosity. How? How are you going to do it, sir? Topapot gave Calvin an all-too-knowing wink. I'm glad you asked, young man. So very glad you asked. The man stepped to the back of the wagon, where a red lever ran flush against the bulk of the wood. With a grunt, he gave the lever a sharp yank. At the pull, all four walls of the wagon fell away, unfolding and slipping back like the wings of an exotic bird, until there was only a platform between the wheels. Upon the platform sat a contraption unlike anything Calvin had ever seen in his short life. Ladies and gentlemen, Topplepot said, I give to you the calliope. It was as garish as the wagon, as gaudy as the man, made up of bright colors and even brighter cogs. Dazzling copper pipes of all sizes, from a few inches to nearly as tall as the man himself, lined the back half of the platform, shining and glowing in the afternoon sun. Before these lay a complex series of gears and pistons, intertwined in a convoluted array, all attached to a large metal drum at the head of the works. The drum itself was covered with bumps, mounted on a single arm and braced against a line of small metal thumbs. At the front of the mechanism, near Topalpot, was a small board with a series of buttons and poles and switches and a single hand crank. Would you like a demonstration? Topapod asked. Calvin nodded. He very much would. The man turned to his machine, pulled at the pulleys, and pushed a few buttons, then flipped a few switches before he said, This is on its lowest setting. Just a small taste of what it can do. But I think you'll find it will satisfy any more questions you. He paused and nodded to Calvin's dad, or anyone else might have. Topplepot turned a hand crank, spinning the drum against the metal thumbs, and the air came alive with faint music. It was a light, subtle, and carefree tune full of soft whistles, bright whirs and clicks. The gears kept exquisite time, spinning the drum into the metal thumbs, which flicked against the bumps, feeding the resulting pattern into the pipes where the music poured forth. The tune was lovely, made Calvin want to smile, but he didn't understand what good it would do until he realized for whom the music was intended. Rats, a good hundred or more, came pouring from the general store, filing into the street in a single brown obedient line. Women screamed. Men grunted in disgust. Everyone scooted to the far side of the street, as the rats lined up in front of the machine and its absurd tune. There the vermin sat, all red-eyed but passive, as if waiting for their next musical command. Topplepot paused in his cranking long enough to flip a few more switches before he started again. A new turn emerged, similar to the last, but with a few notable differences. At the sound, the rats turned as one, heading down the street, shuffling quietly out of town, until they were almost out of sight. Topplepot released the hand crank, the music stopped, replaced all at once by a thin popping sound, like the noise of a gun being fired from very far off. In the distance, the obedient line of brown burst into a hazy cloud of red, then was gone. The crowd was breathless, as well as silent. There you are, ladies and gents, Topplepot said, and for the simple fee of only $1,000, I can rid your entire town of your nemesis. No one said a thing, except for the sheriff. "'Well, then,' Sheriff Parker said, "'as jovial and as warm as the man had ever been in his life, "'let's find a place for you to put them oxen up "'while we discuss the terms of your contract.' dad caught Parker by the arm he could make his way down the steps He whispered What do you think you doing Parker whispered back This man can take the rats away. It's the answer to our prayers, David. Calvin's father looked back atop a pot a moment before he added, in another whisper, But we don't have what he's asking, not even among all of us. Parker gritted his teeth and hissed through them. Yes, but he doesn't know that. Just keep your trap shut and follow my lead. Calvin's dad looked worried at first, then the whole thing settling on him like a slow rolling fog. A thin smile came to his lips. He passed a glance over the crowd where just about everyone was smiling as wide as he and gave a sharp nod in agreement. Parker winked in return to his wooing of the exterminator. Now then, Mr. Topopod, I think. Topopod, the man corrected him. Sure, Topopod, whatever you say, Jackson. Parker paused and motioned to the big blacksmith. Unhook his pack and stable him. He turned back to the tall man, having to crane his neck to look him in the face. All free of charge, of course. The tall man looked down on the short sheriff as he echoed, Of course. Calvin half expected Johnson to tell Parker to go to heck, but the blacksmith leapt to the job like he was making a million dollars for just unhitching the team. Some silent understanding had taken place among the townsfolk, some quiet concurrence on what they were about to do. The men of the town crowded around the stranger in his wagon, making plans for a job that even a kid knew no one in town could afford. They ushered him into the Jack's Tavern, everyone talking at once about how glad they were that the man showed up just when he did, how lucky they were that he rolled into town and how relieved they would be when this was all over. Calvin and Wyatt snuck around the side of Jack's Tavern so they could listen in on the proceedings. Over the next few hours, a deal was struck. For $1,000, the man would drive the rats out of town that very evening. $1,000! That kind of money was unheard of in a small town like Phosphor Flats. Calvin couldn't believe that a man as clever as this topplepot appeared to be would even begin to imagine that anyone here could have $100, much less $1,000. Topplepot was treated like a hero for the job he had yet to accomplish He was given things the town folk could provide A fine meal, a few healthy drinks, and all the local stories he could stand When sundown arrived, the man was in good humor, to say the least And maybe that was the plan after all Calvin could only watch and pray the adults knew what they were doing Out of all the places I've visited Topplepot said as the crowd gathered again outside the general store, I do believe I like Phosphor Flats the best. Calvin hoped the man remembered that fondness when the bill came due. How does your machine work, mister? Harmonics, Topplepot said as if that explained everything. Har-what? Calvin asked. Harmonics, the man repeated. He gave a little sigh when he realized that Calvin was confused. All sound transmit to the brain via the ears in the language of wavelengths. These waves are the very same thing your brain itself speaks to your body through. So, you with me so far, son? Calvin nodded, but it was a lie. Well, the calliope taps into those wavelengths by manipulating the frequencies in which the brain and the body of the subject relate to one another. It controls the waves, alters them, forcing the listener to do anything I desire. Anything. The stranger bent over Calvin, his eyes alight with wicked joy. Anything. You just about ready? Parker asked as he joined them at the contraption. Topplepot stood and nodded. It looks like your entire population has turned out for this. And the man spoke the truth. Word had spread like some fast-acting plague, and every single citizen was there to see if the stranger could make good on his word. Well, a thousand dollars is a fairly steep price. We're all very excited to see if you can pull this off. Cocking his head at the sheriff, the tall man asked, You doubt me, sir? Not at all. Good, then, the man said as he adjusted his head. levers and pulled the pulleys, because you good sirs are about to get your money's worth. With that, Topapot turned a hand crank, and the same soft tune from that morning played, only this time it was a great deal louder. Calvin, as well as many of the other townsfolk, covered his ears, went seeing at the mind-numbing volume of the comical music. This should be loud enough, Topplepot shouted over the cacophony, to reach from farm to ranch and all across your town. Calvin's dad, who was also covering his ears, for those closest to the calliope were getting the loudest dose, nodded at the stranger. Shrieks and shouts faded in and out over the music as the rats poured out from all sides heading to the wagon from both directions of the street from far-off farms and overrun ranches a brown and black and grey ocean of fur and teeth and beady red eyes surged toward the man and his machine all the while the music ground on and on Topplepot's strange smile took him again as he shouted, You best get out of the road. Let me handle this. After all, it's what you're paying me to do. Calvin's dad yanked his son by the neck of his shirt, scurping Calvin up just before the swell of rats could overtake him. The townsfolk stood on the porches and steps all along the roadside, watching in wonder as rats upon rats upon rats scrambled to get to the source of the music. A squirming, living flood poured down Main Street as the source of the town's worry came to seek its own doom. For several minutes the music played, drawing in its quarry, drowning its prey in the sweet, seductive tune. Like a sharp slap to the face, a sudden silence landed on the crowd. Top-a-pot adjusted his levers just before he started the music again Turning the crank as he shouted to the rats Get on out of here! I'm done with you! Go on, take your rest now The rats obeyed by splitting into two packs Turning tail and fleeing town by either end of the road It didn't take long for the vermin to reach the limits of the town proper Where, one by one, the bursting began This time, things weren't quite far enough away for the dramatics of a simple red cloud. No, this time, every bursting rat was accompanied by the horrible visual of dripping death and the stench of steaming life spilt on the dry earth. But regardless of what happened to their brothers only steps ahead of them, the rats behind marched forward to their fate, exploding just as they reached the outskirts of town, until every last one of them was gone. Top-a-pot released his crank, the music stopped, the town fell quiet. Ladies and gentlemen, Top-a-pot said, that, as they say, is that. A great whoop went over the small crowd, applause thundered in Calvin's ears as the townspeople rejoiced in the man's wonderful accomplishment. Topplepot was all smiles and modesty, nodding at the heartfelt shouts of gratitude, waving at the appreciation. Parker was the first to approach the man again, his hand held out. May I be the first, the sheriff said, to thank you for this glorious thing you've done for us. Trust me, Topplepot said, taking the sheriff's hand, when I say it was entirely my pleasure. You, sir, are welcome to stay in flats as long as you need, free of charge, of course. Of course. Speaking of charges, I know it may seem a bit gauche to ask for my fee now, but... Topplepot paused, letting the words linger, a verbal hand seeking what now belonged to him. Parker slid alongside him, patting the taller man on the back as he tried to lead the stranger back toward the tavern. Nonsense! Get yourself a good night's rest, and we'll talk all about that in the morning. Topplepot stood firm. I'd like to discuss it now, if you don't mind. Please, let's just... I get the distinct impression you don't wish to discuss my fee. That's because we don't have your money. Calvin's dad interjected. Excuse me? Topplepot asked. David! Parker snapped Calvin dad stepped down from his store to stand eye to eye with the man he helped to see We don have your money I very sorry sir Top of pot stood his head in confusion. Sorry? You promised me my wages for my work. You made an oral contract. Calvin's dad eyed the rest of the lying townsfolk as he said. We don't have a thousand dollars. We don't even have ten. Parker snatched Calvin's dad by the wrist. We had a plan. Calvin's dad jerked his arm away. You had a plan. He turned back to the stranger with a sigh. We're a very poor town, Mr. Topplepott, but we're proud. We took advantage of you, and we will do whatever it takes to make up for that mistake. Won't we, Mitch? Sheriff Parker, now red as a pickled beet, nodded but said nothing. Yes, you will. Top-a-pot said. Calvin thought it odd that the man's words weren't a question or even a shocked repetition. It was a declaration that made the young boy's skin crawl to hear. Calvin's dad pressed on with his apology. We can scrape together some supplies, some feed for your oxen, A few knick-knacks that might fetch you something in the city. It won't meet your fee, but our gratitude is genuine, and you can always return here any time you like. I appreciate your honesty, Topplepot said, but I would have appreciated it more before I kept my part of the bargain. Still, I suppose it's refreshing to see a semi-honest man. Then you'll allow us to make it up to you? Calvin's dad asked. Topplepot grinned. I think there are a few things in your lovely town I can make use of. Something valuable to me, but even more so to you, I would wager. Nonsense, by all means, consider it yours. Oh, I will. Have no doubt about that. Topplepot turned back to his machine and began pulling pulleys, pushing buttons, and flipping switches. What are you doing? Calvin's dad asked. Let him be, Parker said with a snort. What's the worst he can do with that thing? The rats are gone. It's not like he can bring them back. And the music man laughed low and sinister as he adjusted his machine. I just thought I'd share one more tune. Topopod looked over his shoulder, grinning wide as he added. Free of charge, of course. With that, he turned his crank. A new piece of music filled the air, this time a jaunty little tune that made Calvin want to get up and dance. So he did. Without hesitation, without a thought as to how he looked or acted, he leapt to his feet and began a silly little jig. He didn't even know how to dance. And there he was, capering like a wild goat on a spring morning. And not just him, either. No. Wyatt had leapt from his seat across the road, shimmying and shaking in the dirt. Lucy Stacks was dancing close with Bobby Hanson. The Packard twins were waltzing across the street. In fact, all the kids from town, all thirty-so of them, were dancing up a storm right in front of Topplepot and his marvelous invention, all to the tune of a driving, cheerful beat. They were having the time of their young lives. The adults, however, weren't. They started to shout and cry, holler and plead for the children to stop dancing. Stop this madness! Calvin's dad yelled. He grabbed up Calvin, holding him by his shoulders from the ground. But even this didn't stop him. Calvin's feet continued their worship of the music, dancing on air as his father held him high. You! Calvin's dad growled at Topalpott. You're doing this! Topalpot shrugged as he flipped a single switch on the machine. A little tin whistle was added to the jovial music. Calvin's dad went tense, dropping his son to the ground as a strange stiffness settled over him. It was as though he had been glued to the spot by the same tune that Calvin had been dancing to. Calvin glanced up to his father to see a look of worry and shock. He wanted to tell his dad it was all right, that the music made him happy inside, but he couldn't. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Then his father got big, really big. In fact, the whole world got big all around Calvin because he was shrinking. So were Wyatt and the Packard twins. But they weren't just getting smaller. They were getting hairier and toothier. And Calvin just about knew what was happening when he caught sight of his own long tail. All of the adults watched, frozen to the spot, as their children twisted and danced and shrank into beady little-eyed rats. Rats that snapped and growled. Rats with bright red eyes that spoke of an impossible intelligence. Topapot laughed as he fiddled with the dials. I warned you, those who don't take my services seriously pay the price, one way or another. A brand new tune reached Calvin's tiny ears, and with it he felt a powerful hunger overtake him. A hunger for meat, raw and chunky, and red with blood. It was unlike anything he'd felt before. It struck him into belly, driving Calvin to seek sustenance right away. But what could a little rat boy eat? What kind of meat was so plentiful, so within his reach and so very fresh? Calvin heard his father's cries before he knew what was happening. At the back of his mind, somewhere that used to be the little boy, he knew he was doing wrong. But the meat was so, so tasty, and the music made him oh, so hungry. Yet in truth, the melody had stopped long before. Shrieks were the only music now, as Topplepot turned his attention to the packing away of his glorious machine. Calvin chomped, chewed, and swallowed over and over until he was perched upon nothing but a pile of red raw bones where his dad once stood. How long does it take for a pack of rat children to eat an entire town? Long enough for one man to hitch his wagon team and store his goods. Ready to go, Topplepot turned to his new flock, his smile wider than ever. Are we all full now? The rat children tittered with excitement. Topplepot mounted his wagon, settling into the bucket seat as he pulled a penny whistle from his garish jacket. Meet you at the next town, then. Try not to be so aggressive this time, children. He blew into the whistle a short, sharp tune at which Calvin, Wyatt, and all the town's children scurried away. You've just heard Calliope, written by Tonya Brown, performed by Otis Giri and produced by Craig Groshek. It's a story that feels almost folkloric in its simplicity. An outsider arrives, offers salvation, names a price, and warns of consequence. But this isn't a story about vermin. It's about pride, about desperation, about assuming that cleverness can replace honesty, and that help comes without expectation. And in the end, It reminds us that harmony, when placed in the wrong hands, can become something far more dangerous than chaos. Sometimes the cost of a broken promise isn't financial. Sometimes it's everything. Before we close tonight's episode, we'd like to once again spotlight scary stories told in the dark, now in its 19th season and still delivering weekly nightmares. New episodes premiere every Sunday on the Chilling Tales for Dark Nights YouTube channel, and they're also available wherever your favorite podcasts can be found. With hundreds of episodes in its archive, including a vast library featuring the unforgettable performances of Otis Jiri, as well as newer installments hosted by Malcolm Blackwood, there's never been a better time to explore everything the series has to offer. If tonight's story captivated you, we strongly encourage you to dive into the scary stories told in the Dark Catalog. There are literally years of terror waiting for you. If you enjoyed tonight's episode, be sure to follow Chilling Tales for Dark Nights on your preferred podcast platform. Leave us a 5-star rating and share the show with a fellow horror fan. Visit creepypastastories.com for even more eerie entertainment. and don't forget to subscribe to our YouTube channel to follow the continuing saga of Evil Idol 2025. For exclusive perks, ad-free listening, early access and bonus content, head to chillingtalesfordarknights.com and become a member today. Just $7.99 per month or save with an annual subscription. You can also stay connected with us on Facebook, X, Instagram and TikTok. You've been listening to Chilling Tales for Dark Nights. I'm Nicholas Goroff filling in for Steve Taylor tonight until next time turn off the lights and turn on the dark sweet dreams listeners sweet dreams