Introducing: Thirteen

Hi there, this is Devan from the cast of Close Your Eyes. We know you can't wait for more episodes of the show, and we're working on that. But in the meantime, we wanted to share something else we think you might like. It's called Thirteen, and it's a fiction podcast that delivers atmospheric, spooky stories released on the 13th of every month. Think of it as a movies for your ears experience, long-form, character-driven stories, brought to life with immersive sound design and an original score. If you're into haunted houses, haunted forests, and strange figures in the night, there's a very good chance you'll love Thirteen. It's less Friday the 13th and more, the haunting of Hill House. Yes, there are scares, but there's so much more to. You'll be unsettled, sure, but you might also laugh, cry, and maybe even fall a little bit in love. What you're about to hear is part one of a five-part story. When you're ready for the rest, you can find it on the Thirteen feed. Just search Thirteen, the word, not the number. Wherever you're listening right now. And now, here's part one. I met my best friend when we were both seven years old. It was 1989, and our families moved in a few houses down the street from each other. We lived in a little town, about 30 minutes across the Ohio River from Cincinnati. Her family had been there about a year before we arrived, and there weren't many other kids in the neighborhood. So, we hit it off. And pretty soon, we were at each other's houses every day. Some memories come with a hazy glow around them. They feel like they happened in another world. And in a way, I guess they did. The world where we met in 1989 doesn't exist anymore. Life doesn't feel like that, or work like that anymore. One of those hazy glow memories for me is playing in Ashley's driveway. There was a basketball goal there, even though we couldn't throw the ball high enough to reach it. I remember porch lights in the twilight. I remember trying to ignore the colors of the sunset. Trying to ignore that bedtime was approaching. That pretty soon, we'd have to go to our separate houses, even if it was just for the night. Instead, we focused on trying to be the first one tall enough, or strong enough, to get the ball over the rim. The two of us were inseparable. And that first summer felt like it would last forever. In 1993, we were 11. That was the year the X-Files came out. It aired on Friday nights. And it just so happened to be the same year that Ash and I started having a lot of sleepovers. In 1995, we were 13. And the TV show Slider was on the top of the list. In 1995, we were 13. And the TV show Sliders came out. Sliders was about a grad student that had created a portal between dimensions. And then he got himself and his friends trapped in a cycle of transporting to a new dimension every few days. Each dimension was different, and they were trying to find their way home. Ash was obsessed with the show and became obsessed with the idea of alternate dimensions. Do you think there's a dimension where spiders rule the world instead of people? But over time, it became a way for her to broach topics that she was a little shy about. Do you think there's a dimension where Derek Young has a crush on me? And also a way to vent her anxieties. What if there's a dimension where we didn't become neighbors? What if we just passed each other in the halls at school like we didn't even know each other? Ash was really sweet, even when she didn't know how to say it. Well, I don't think I'd want to live in that dimension. There was something else about our neighborhood. It was home to our town's haunted house, just two streets over. It was called Willow House, because that's the name of the street it's on, Willow Street. About the time the X-Files and Sliders came on the air, we started to become aware of our town's haunted house, and that it was just a short walk from our houses. Even though we lived so close to it, we'd never seen it. It was at the end of Willow Street, where it dead ends, and we'd just never had a reason to go that way. But that didn't stop us from imagining the place like one of those scary old houses on the X-Files. In my imagination, it was always a sinister night. There were always flashes of lightning and curtains billowing in the windows. And for a while, as far as I was concerned, that's what the Willow House looked like. In the summer of 1995, we told Ashley's parents that we were going to see the Willow House. They said it was fine as long as we stayed on the sidewalk and didn't go inside the house. They weren't afraid that the place was haunted. They were afraid we'd get hurt in the old abandoned house. We left through the kitchen door. Ash's family almost never used the front door. It was daytime. We walked to the end of our street, took a left, and turned right at the next corner. I remembered looking up at the street sign in a kind of wonder and dread as we passed under it. And then we got to the end of the street. It was a little underwhelming. The place was abandoned, sure, and it was in bad shape. But it wasn't nighttime. It was a hot summer day, and there were no scary lightning flashes. We could hear kids playing somewhere nearby. It was the definition of anticlimactic. I looked the house over, trying to find it in me to feel something like fear or dread. Only a couple of the windows still had glass in them, and the rest were boarded up. The door had been boarded up, but that wood had been pulled off the door frame and was resting crooked, only partly blocking the entrance. Undoubtedly, the work of teenage explorers while we stood there, staying on the sidewalk like Ashley's parents had told us to do, all I felt was disappointment. Most small town ghost stories are rooted in some kernel of truth, but that truth gets lost in all the stories. So you have to treat everything like it's a rumor. Everyone had a story they'd heard, or a sibling who'd told them this or that. You don't know what to believe. So you either don't believe any of it, or you believe all of it. A tradition had built up around Willow House. I don't know for sure how long it had been going on. But it went like this. You're supposed to do it the summer after your senior year. You and your friends go to Willow House at night, and it needs to be late so the neighbors don't see you. Some of the neighbors don't care. They think of it as a harmless ghost story and good clean fun for the kids in town. But there's always a few that can't stand it when kids have any sort of fun. And they'll call the cops if they see you lurking around. You're supposed to go into the house one at a time. You can't go in together. You have to bring something with you to write your name on the inside of the house. But you have to walk into every room of the house first. Otherwise, people would just go inside, write their name, and then run back out, having barely even been in there. And what's the fun in that? Once you've gone through every room in the house and written your name somewhere, you can make a wish. And then you're free to leave. You've completed the challenge and you've become part of your hometown's spooky little tradition. But the story goes that every few years the house picks someone and it'll let you know that it's picked you. You'll see something or hear something. It's like the house or the ghost or whatever is showing the house shows itself to you. You have less than a year to live. I was thinking about this tradition that day in the eighth grade, when me and Ashley were standing on the sidewalk looking at Willow House. The way the bright sun was backlighting the house. We could only see a few feet past where the front door should have been. Inside the house, it was all darkness. But right there, where the sun was still able to peek in, there were the telltale streaks of graffiti all over the walls inside. Ashley had an older sister named Charlotte, Charlie for short. Charlie was a popular girl. She was pretty and she had lots of friends and always seemed to have something going on. Anytime I stayed over on a Friday or Saturday night, Charlie would inevitably pass us on her way out of the house while we were settling in to tune into the X files. See ya losers. Charlie wasn't really mean. She was just a big sister. On the rare occasions that she stayed home while I was there, she was nice. And most importantly, she was there anytime we had questions about, you know, boys and teenage stuff. And I thought of her as kind of a big sister too. Charlie had told Ashley about Willow House and the tradition, probably trying to scare her. But Charlie was five years older than us. She was a senior in high school. So, that meant that Charlie would be exploring that house sometime soon. I don't know how long Willow House had been abandoned, but I'd heard stories about the last people that lived there. There was a family in the 80s that up and left in the middle of the night, mysteriously and suddenly, and they never came back, leaving the place abandoned all these years. And no one ever saw them again. And the house just fell apart from being empty for all that time. People said that whatever was haunting that house had run the family off. Things about voices and walls bleeding and I think a lot of our friends had just watched the Amityville horror for the first time. But it was fun. And that's how ghost stories work. They're supposed to be fun. And I liked that Ashley and me could walk to see the place and get a little scared. Legends, traditions, they're about feeling like you're part of something. Something that you and the people who grew up with you will have in common forever, even if it doesn't make sense or matter to the rest of the world. It was 1995 when me and Ashley stood outside Willow House for the first time. Charlie, Ashley's sister, would go into the house later that summer. It would be the year 2000 when it was our turn to go in. Of course, we knew kids who did it early. There were even kids our age that said they'd already gone. But we wanted to do it the right way. Ashley and I made a promise that when it was our turn, we'd go in together. That summer, between seventh and eighth grade, I was over at Ashley's for another sleepover. I remember seeing Charlie upstairs. She was getting ready to go out with her friends. Even though she had only just graduated high school, I remember how grown up she looked from our middle school perspective. Every now and then, I'd encounter Charlie and her friends while I was there to hang out with Ashley. And I thought that they were so mature and so cool. I remember wishing that I could be like them. It was Saturday night and I was staying over at Ashes. Her mom and dad made dinner. We were all eating when Charlie rushed through the kitchen and said goodbye to everyone before disappearing out the kitchen door into the driveway. This was pretty normal, and we didn't know it at the time. But that was the night she and her friends were going into Willow House. Ashley and I were still up at 2.30 that morning. We were always up late when we stayed over at each other's houses. What's the point of a sleepover if you don't make the most of that time? We usually stayed in Ashley's basement. It was a finished basement, and there was a big TV down there. And there was just a little bit more privacy than being upstairs in the rest of the house. Something had been weighing on Ashley. It was like there was a cloud over her. And finally, she told me. She'd overheard Charlie and her friends talking about going to college and making promises that they'd stay in touch and always be friends. But Ashley didn't believe them. And it got her thinking about us. What if we grow up and end up on different sides of the world and we never see each other again? I don't think we'll end up on different sides of the world. I didn't realize how much this was troubling Ashley, and my tone didn't exactly match the moment. I thought I could see a tear in her eye. Oh no, I'm kidding! Obviously! We're gonna be friends forever! You were my first friend. That doesn't just go away. But what if it does? I'm being stupid, I know, but hey, if there really are infinite dimensions, then we stay friends in all of them. Got it? Ashley stiffened and straightened up. Yeah. It was just then that we heard something upstairs. The kitchen door. We heard footsteps trying to be quiet, but there was an edge to them. They sounded urgent and angry, even as they tried to stay undetected by her parents. Charlie was home. Didn't she say she was staying over somewhere tonight? I nodded. She'd said she was going to a party and then staying over with a friend. The footsteps moved across the ceiling, and we followed them with our eyes, as if there was anything to see. Maybe she's just getting something and then leaving again. The footsteps moved back across the ceiling, and I tried to map out the first floor in my mind, picturing where she was. She was in the kitchen again. We heard a sudden clunk of the pipes and water running. Ashley made a motion, and we crept toward the steps, and then slowly, one by one, we climbed about halfway up. We were eye level with the crack at the bottom of the basement door. The light was on. It had been off before she came home. The water in the pipes came to a stop. Through the door, we heard a thud as Charlie put a heavy glass of water down on the countertop. We didn't hear any more footsteps. She must have just been standing in front of the sink. We stayed still and silent. Then we could hear something else. We gave each other a look, suddenly aware that maybe we shouldn't be intruding on this moment. We were startled when we heard her footsteps again, and now we could see her shadow where she was moving around the kitchen through the crack under the basement door. I wanted to go back downstairs, and I think Ashley did too, but if we moved now, she'd hear us. It was already too late. Charlie stopped by the basement door, and then something mortifying happened. I can hear you down there, you little creeps. I was horrified. I felt so bad, and I wanted more than anything in the world to go home. Ashley was horrified too. We knew we'd crossed a line, but we didn't think it was a big deal. It was just a game, until it wasn't. We were shocked. Something had happened to Charlie that night, but we didn't know much for the next few days. Then the rumors started. That's how we found out that Charlie and her friends went to Willow House that night. Something about Charlie losing it inside the house. Something about Charlie stealing her best friend's boyfriend. For the next few days, Ashley and I hung out at my house. Neither of us wanted to bump into Charlie after she'd caught us eavesdropping, and Ashley told me that Charlie hadn't really come out of her room. Charlie didn't seem like the type to try to steal someone's boyfriend, but she'd also never isolated herself away like this. It didn't add up. Over time, we would learn the full story. We didn't know it then, but Charlie would become a big part of our town's ghost story. At least for a little while. Charlie never told us what happened that night, but that didn't keep everyone else from talking. That night, Charlie and some of the other girls were supposed to stay over with her best friend, Amber. But the real plan was for them to sneak out, meet up with their boyfriends, and go exploring in Willow House. To leave their names inside the house, like hundreds of seniors before them had done. They made a plan. They chose to stay at Amber's house because Charlie lived too close. All the parents knew about the tradition too, and staying over at Charlie's just two blocks away, the summer after senior year, it just felt like it would be too suspicious. Besides, Ashley already had plans for me to sleep over. They wouldn't be able to drive to Willow Street and park there. Even a couple of cars pulling up in front of Willow House would risk drawing attention from the wrong kind of neighbor, the kind that wouldn't hesitate to call the cops. So, the plan was to meet up at a park, a couple of streets over, and walk the rest of the way from there. Everyone would sneak out and make their way toward the meeting spot as soon as it was safe to do so. Chloe, one of the girls staying at Amber's, purposefully parked a few houses down when she arrived for the sleepover. This way, Amber's parents wouldn't hear the car start up later that night when they snuck out. Across town, Dylan, Amber's boyfriend, put his car in neutral and let it roll down the hill until she was far enough away to start the engine. On the way to the meeting spot, he picked up the other guys that were coming. Chloe's boyfriend walked from the next neighborhood over. He was the last to arrive. By the time they'd all met up at the park, it was 1.30. Once everyone was there, they started the walk toward Willow Street. Thinking back and knowing what I know now, I wonder if they walked past us on their way that night. When Ashley and I were having our own little sleepover in the basement, when she was worried that we wouldn't be friends forever, our street was on the way from the park to Willow House. Had they looked over and noticed the basement lights, little rectangular windows where the house met the ground. Had Charlie been too wrapped up with her friends, especially Dylan and Amber, Charlie had known them both her whole life, and she'd had a crush on Dylan since she'd been old enough to start having crushes. And Amber knew it. Of course she did. They had talked about him for years. And when Dylan asked Amber out in junior year, she'd gone to Charlie and asked if it was okay. She'd said she'd totally tell him no if Charlie wasn't cool with it. She didn't want to mess up their friendship. What was Charlie supposed to say? It had been difficult at first, and Charlie had been resentful. But as time went by, it started to feel more normal. And Dylan and Amber were good together. Any bad feelings toward Amber had long since faded away. It was almost completely normal now. Except from time to time, when they were all together like they were that night, Charlie had to catch herself and make sure she wasn't staring or flirting or drifting off into what could have been if things had gone just a little different. I wonder if Charlie had been too wrapped up in Dylan, or if she'd glanced over at her home as they passed by. Maybe to see if the light was on in her parents' bedroom. What was going through her mind in those before everything would change? Chloe kept shushing the group as they made their way onto Willow Street. It was brighter than they'd expected. Street lights, porch lights. Just like me, most of them had expected a dark and stormy night. But the stars were out, and the moon was half full. It was summer in the suburbs. The house was at the end of the street, up against an overgrown fence line. The few feet of overgrown yard between the house and that fence was the darkest place on the street. That would have to be where they stood, waiting for their turn to go in. The whole group hurried off the sidewalk and around the side of the house. They could talk a little more freely there. The plan was to go in one by one, just like the legend said you were supposed to. They'd go in, walk into every room, then write or carve or spray paint their names before coming back out. The front door had been boarded up again. The house was in a constant state of change, as neighbors tried to secure the place and kids tried to get in. A few years ago, someone had ripped out the front stairs leading up to the porch. But the porch wrapped around the side of the house, and there was a trellis you could climb. On that side, there was a window that used to be boarded up, but someone else had managed to rip the boards away. It left a dark square hole in the side of the house. That would be their way in. That would be their way in. Dylan, not wanting to look like he was afraid in front of Amber and the other girls, went first. He climbed up to the porch, swung his body over the railing, and took an exaggerated step over the window frame and inside the house. Once he was fully inside, he turned on his flashlight and held it under his chin, giving them a goofy face before turning and walking deeper into the house. Amber spoke up. Ugh, someone go make sure you can't see that light from the street. Chloe's boyfriend ran out to the sidewalk and then back again. He said it was all boarded up, no light coming through. Sorry, he's so dumb sometimes. A couple of minutes passed and they saw movement again. The light from his flashlight bounced off the walls from deeper in the house, getting brighter and moving toward them. Then he was climbing out the window. Hey, watch out. Just under the window, there's a hole in the floor. Chloe's boyfriend, not wanting to be outdone, volunteered to go next. In a few moments, he was on the porch and then inside the house. While he was inside, Charlie looked up. The windows on this side of the house were boarded up too. It was hard to believe that anyone had ever lived here. That kids grew up here. It can be hard to imagine things as they used to be, especially when, for you, it's only ever been what it is now. Dylan was bragging about how he'd left his initials in a huge circle upstairs in the old master bedroom, scrawled on top of who knows how many other names before it. Amber went next and then Chloe. Both came scurrying out faster than the boys had. Ew, it's grosser than I thought it'd be. Chloe was visibly spooked and couldn't wait to get out the window and off the porch with the rest of them. And then it was Charlie's turn. Chloe handed her the flashlight and Charlie started climbing up to the porch. It wasn't high, but it required clearing a little section of railing. From the porch, she was a few feet above her friends. She gave them a last look before turning and facing the broken window. Charlie stepped over the windows ledge and inside the house. Once she was inside, she turned on her flashlight. She saw the hole in the floorboards that Dylan had mentioned on his way out of the house. She was in a bedroom. She could feel her pulse in her neck and she was breathing heavy. The smell of ancient dust filled her nose and she could feel it in her lungs. She hoped it wasn't mold. She tried to collect her thoughts. You have to go into every room. You're not allowed to skip any. Then mark something on the wall. That's it. She made her way out into the hallway, stepping into the first room on her left. Another bedroom. In this one, some of the plaster on the ceiling had fallen. Creating a pile of gray white in the middle of the floor. The next room was mostly the same as the first. Every wall in the place was covered in scribbles and spray paint. Some of the floors too. She made her way through the rest of the first floor, reminding herself that if anything happened, she was only a few seconds away from the window. From her friends. There was a living room where, long ago, the front door would have opened into. It was connected to a kitchen by a hallway beside the stairs. When she reached the stairwell, the thought of going up gave her a kind of low-grade panic. If she screamed, would her friends be able to hear her from up there? Would she be able to get away if she saw something? She whispered to herself, Everyone else did this. They're fine. You'll be fine too. She panned the flashlight to the top of the stairs, and she had a horrifying moment, where she imagined seeing someone standing there. Someone who didn't look quite right. Looking down at her. But there was nothing. Get it together. She gave the stairs another long look before finishing the first floor. She looked in on a hallway bathroom, a closet that was missing its door, and the kitchen. And then, she was back at the stairs. Come on. All your friends have done this. Instead of going slow and creeping her way up, Charlie gritted her teeth and took the steps two at a time, making a lot of noise, but sparing herself the creeping dread. At the top, there was a landing that looked down over what used to be the living room. At one time, it would have been a beautiful house. Upstairs, there were three rooms. The first was a bathroom. Just like the ones downstairs, the porcelain sink and toilet had been smashed, and there were shards of it scattered around the floor. The next room was full of junk, maybe old storage. She couldn't make out what its function would have been. And finally, she walked into the master bedroom. She panned the flashlight on the walls. And there it was. Dylan's enormous initials that he'd spray painted in black on the wall. A big uneven circle around them. The smell of the spray paint was still in the air. She stepped in and put her hand on the wall right in the middle of it. Most of the time, she was happy for Amber. Most of the time, she didn't think about Dylan at all. Most of the time. A thought crossed her mind. More of an impulse, really. She thought to herself, it would blend in with all the color behind it. No one would ever even notice that it was there. I'm the last one. No one else is coming in. She'd only brought a marker in with her. A blue permanent marker. She popped the cap off and she crept up to the wall. We're all going to college in a month anyway. No one will even know. And if they do, it won't matter. She told herself this as she put the flashlight face up on the floor below her and drew in her initials under Dylan's. Like a couple carving their name into a tree. Like a wish. Charlie. Dylan's voice made her jump and she kicked over the flashlight. It rolled away from her on its side. She chased it around the room, finally picking it up and pointing it back at the wall. No. She couldn't let him see this. But by the time she'd grabbed the light and regained her composure, she could already hear him climbing the stairs. Hey, everything okay? Charlie was frozen. Hey, this is the room I picked too. Dylan stepped toward the back wall, pointing at his handiwork. Mine's over here. What do you... huh? His voice faltered as he noticed. What do you... what do you think? It was Charlie's worst fear. He'd seen it. So, um, did you put your initials by mine? Charlie was mortified. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I was the last one here and I didn't think anyone would ever see it. Charlie, everyone comes here. People are gonna see it. I'm sorry. It's so stupid. Please, please don't tell Amber. I'll mark it out. Here, where's your spray paint? I'll spray over it and no one will ever know. No. Don't. I kind of like it. Charlie, do you really feel that way? No. No. I had a crush on you when we were kids, but when you and Amber started dating, I put that all behind me. Yeah, but it's not that easy, is it? I don't think you can really make yourself stop feeling something. You can, and I have. We should go before anyone else comes in and sees this. You know, I kind of had a thing for one of Amber's friends before we started dating, but I was afraid she'd say no. I knew Amber liked me, like that was obvious, so I kind of went with it, but... Charlie had never felt anything like the mix of emotions that were coursing through her at that moment. Fear inside this haunted house, humiliation, attraction, being exposed, being caught, anticipation. Dylan took a step toward Charlie and she felt her guard drop. Do you think there's still time to go back and make a different choice? Amber would be crushed. You can't let other people's feelings control your life. Dylan stepped in. Charlie looked up to meet his eyes, then his lips, then his eyes, then his lips again. That? That right there? That's exactly what I mean. You know what you want. Charlie felt like her chest was going to explode if she didn't do something, if there wasn't some kind of release. Dylan reached forward and touched her hand, and that's all it took. Charlie leaned in and kissed him hard on the mouth, and he kissed her back. Their hands were suddenly in motion, all over each other. Dylan started kissing her neck and Charlie let out a loud breath. It didn't go on for very long, just a few seconds before Charlie came to her senses. She pulled back and then pushed him away. No, I'm sorry. We can't do this. Another feeling washed over her. Shame. Fear, but not about the haunted house. Fear of Amber. She turned her back to him. I'm sorry. This was a mistake. We can't tell her about this okay. We can't say a word. Dylan didn't say anything. Shit! We need to go before they start wondering what's going on. Charlie turned again to face Dylan, but he wasn't there. Charlie felt full-on panic rising in her stomach. She didn't know what to do. What just happened? If that wasn't Dylan, what was it? Was it still here? If she ran, would it come after her? It didn't matter. She didn't have a choice. She bolted down the stairs. Her first instinct was to try running out the front door, but it was boarded up. Then she remembered she had to make it to the bedroom window where she'd come in. She ran down the hallway. Which bedroom was it? Finally, she saw a little bit of light in one of the doorways. The light from the open window. She felt hot tears pouring down her cheeks. As she got to the wall and tried to step over, she felt her foot fall in between the floorboards. The others were still down below the porch. All four of them, including Dylan. He'd never been inside with her. Help! They were all shocked at the sound of her voice. Dylan jumped into action and got onto the porch and tried to help her out. I'm stuck! I'm stuck! My foot's stuck! Dylan climbed around her to get inside the window. He knelt down, helping her free her shoe from the hole in the floorboards. As soon as it was loose, Charlie scrambled out the window, falling onto the porch, and then jumping over the railing, not bothering to climb down. Her legs buckled when she hit the ground, but she scrambled back onto her feet, and she was running before anyone else knew what was happening. The others chased her, but it didn't take much. She lost control of her legs and fell onto the grass in someone's front yard a couple houses down. What are you doing? What happened? Hey guys, we gotta go. Someone's definitely gonna call the cops. I saw you! I saw you! She pointed at Dylan. You came, and you found me, and you kissed me, and you told me you wanted me. What? Whoa, whoa, wait, wait, no, no, no, I didn't do any of that. Charlie was horrified at the words coming out of her mouth, but she couldn't stop it. Hey, I wasn't in there with you. We were all outside waiting. This is unbelievable. You told me it was fine. You told me you weren't interested in him this whole time. I'm not. I'm over him, I promise. Hold on. Are you guys talking about me? Shut up. I'm so stupid. I saw the way you looked at him, and I told myself it was nothing. I told myself she's my best friend. She wouldn't come after my boyfriend. Babe, me and Charlie have never kissed. I don't know what she's talking about. It was inside. It was inside the house you were there. Shut the fuck up. What are you doing? I can't deal with this right now. Let's go. Babe, I don't know if she's okay. We can't just leave her. Dylan! Yep, okay, okay, I'm coming. And that's how they left her, crying on a stranger's yard. There's no way for Ashley and me to know how long she was there before she got up and made her way home. There's no way for us to really know what happened in that house. She never told Ashley anything about it, and if she wouldn't tell her own sister, I knew for sure she wouldn't tell me. Something we do know is that Charlie stayed home for the rest of the summer. She didn't go back out with friends again. She barely came out of her room. At some point, I started coming back over to Ashley's, and every now and then, we heard her through the basement ceiling, and we saw her coming, making her way to the kitchen, sometimes sneaking out that kitchen door, maybe taking a walk, maybe trying to clear her mind. But we knew she wasn't meeting anyone. She was in her pajamas, and Charlie didn't go anywhere in pajamas and without makeup on. And as summer came to an end, Charlie was off to college in Chicago, making new friends, and getting a new start. And she would be there for the next few years. She'd graduate college, and if the house really did show itself to her, nothing much happened. Maybe the tradition really was just a story. This took away some of the fear, when it would come time for me and Ashley to go into the house, when we were older. But there's something I can't get out of my head. That night, when Charlie went to the house, when she'd come home and hissed at us through the basement door. Well, the next morning, when we woke up and we still hadn't heard anything about what happened, we went upstairs for some breakfast. As we got to the top of the stairs, we heard feet shuffling away. When I opened the door, I saw Charlie retreating into her room, the room she would barely leave for the rest of the summer. Before she was able to slink behind that closed door, I noticed something different about her. Something that hadn't been there when she left the night before. And later on, when I would think about it, it makes me wonder if it was all true. I don't know what happened behind Charlie's closed bedroom door. But I have to believe that for at least some of that time, she was standing in front of her mirror, staring in awe and in horror at the hickey on her neck. Thank you for joining us for this episode of 13. This has been Willow House Part 1, Summer in the Suburbs. This is part one of a five-part series, and we'll be releasing episodes weekly through Halloween. But if you can't wait, the entire story is available on our Patreon right now. Just go to patreon.com slash 13 pod or click the link in the show notes. Willow House was written by Ian Epperson and narrated by me, Brooke Jeanette. Ashley was Noel Woolry. Charlie was Shelby Novak. Amber was Emma Sharzarko. Dylan was Ian Epperson. Music composed by Kayla Britchie. Editing and sound design by Brooke Jeanette. Additional assistance from Bridget Freeman. Don't forget to check out the Audio Fiction Convention or TAFCon. It's fully funded and it's happening next year. There's six days left to back the project on Kickstarter and secure your badge. We've got a link in the show notes. Our producer-level patrons are Tattooed Fox, Riannon, Sean Geary, Anthony Diaz, Amy Harper, Jackie Kay, Chantel Payne, Jake R, Emily Toll, and Kozmine. Thank you guys so much for your support. Click the link in the show notes to learn more about joining us on Patreon and check us out on social media. You can find us most places under pod 13 and you can join the Facebook group for 13 podcast. Just look for the logo and you'll find links in the show notes. If you'd like to submit a story to be performed on the show or if you'd like to contact us about anything else, you can get in touch at info at 13podcast.com. You'll find submission guidelines and other info on our website 13podcast.com and you can find that in the show notes too. Bridget Freeman is making her way up the stairs. Thanks for listening and we'll see you next week.