Speaker 1: M twelve Ghosts is a production of I Heeart three
Speaker 1: D audio and grim and mild from Aaron Banky Headphones
Speaker 1: recommended listener discretion advised. Out of the bosom of the air,
Speaker 1: out of the cloud, folds of her garments, shaken over
Speaker 1: the woodland's brown and bear over the harvest fields forsaken,
Speaker 1: silent and soft and slow, descends the snow. The night
Speaker 1: is growing old and a bell My dear, surely your
Speaker 1: eyelids are heavy. Are you expecting anyone else tonight? I'm
Speaker 1: always expecting someone. I expect the whole of the world
Speaker 1: to cross my threshold eventually. I'm happy to have your company,
Speaker 1: of course, But you've had a long journey. You wear
Speaker 1: the weight of it like a cowl over your shoulders.
Speaker 1: You only need lay it down. But if you'll perhaps
Speaker 1: indulge one more weary traveler before you go, yes, of course, Hello, dear,
Speaker 1: come in, warm yourself. So something was out there in
Speaker 1: the woods. I could see it in the trees, and
Speaker 1: out there in the trees it will stay, unless, of course,
Speaker 1: it wants a drink. I won't turn a thirsty soul away.
Speaker 1: And speaking of would you like a seat drink to
Speaker 1: warm yourself and settle the nerves. Yeah, okay, am I dead?
Speaker 1: Are you surprised? Only surprised it so warm? I was
Speaker 1: expecting the cold and the dark. We must come from
Speaker 1: similar backgrounds. What do you think was in the trees?
Speaker 1: I'm sorry if that was too forward a question. No, No,
Speaker 1: it's better to just it's better to get it out,
Speaker 1: you know, I'm so tired of dealing with it. Well,
Speaker 1: dear a sip for courage. Then, my mother always told
Speaker 1: me I would miss her when she was gone, which
Speaker 1: made the arrival of the impossibly translucent apparition of the
Speaker 1: woman I had not actually spoken to in years almost funny.
Speaker 1: I might have laughed, had I not been suddenly and
Speaker 1: totally overcome with guilt for not even having any suspicion
Speaker 1: that this day was coming so soon. Had she been ill,
Speaker 1: had she laid in a hospital bed for months praying
Speaker 1: her only daughter would come and see her. Surely if
Speaker 1: that were the case, someone would have called. Unless my
Speaker 1: mother had wasted away in passive aggressive silence, proving herself
Speaker 1: right about her ungrateful daughter to the end, at the
Speaker 1: cost of any possible reconciliation, which did not. I realized
Speaker 1: stray too far from the realm of the feasible. I felt,
Speaker 1: then suddenly that I was being terribly uncharitable to a
Speaker 1: dead woman who had, despite all her faults, chosen to
Speaker 1: hover now a few inches above the floor at the
Speaker 1: foot of my bed, on presumably the day of her death.
Speaker 1: I was a little shaky on how ghosts worked, having
Speaker 1: not really believed in them until this exact moment. But
Speaker 1: the way I had always heard it was that a
Speaker 1: relative would sometimes appear around the time of their death
Speaker 1: when there was unfinished business, which would definitely apply in
Speaker 1: this case. Honestly, I was flattered my mother had chosen
Speaker 1: to come to me at all. The day of your
Speaker 1: death had to be the most important one since birth,
Speaker 1: which hardly counted because infants don't know one days are
Speaker 1: momentous and never have the foresight to file away the
Speaker 1: memory Mom. The figure didn't move. I tried again, Hey, Mom, Silence, stillness,
Speaker 1: except for a faint shimmering. Maybe in our years of silence,
Speaker 1: she had forgotten how to speak to me, I could relate.
Speaker 1: Arose from my bed, feeling embarrassed in my bare feet
Speaker 1: and ratty mismatched pajamas. My mother's ghost was dressed in
Speaker 1: a sensible pantsuit, or at least most of one, as
Speaker 1: she sort of seemed to fade out of existence around
Speaker 1: mid calf. I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting visitors. I took
Speaker 1: in the clutter of my room shifted uncomfortably. My mother's
Speaker 1: ghost said nothing. Would you like a glass of water
Speaker 1: or some tea? We could sit on the couch if
Speaker 1: you'd like. After too many moments of awkward silence, I
Speaker 1: settled on dragging a chair from the kitchen into my
Speaker 1: room and setting the blanket on it in case you
Speaker 1: get cold. Old. My voice sounded strange to my own ears.
Speaker 1: I ah, I am going to go to bed now
Speaker 1: that okay, still nothing, okay, good night. I got into
Speaker 1: bed and shut my eyes. I knew sleep wouldn't come,
Speaker 1: but I didn't know what else to do. The hours
Speaker 1: ticked slowly past, and I stayed perfectly still, eyes shut
Speaker 1: and listening to the silence in my apartment and the
Speaker 1: muffled noises outside of it, until I could see the
Speaker 1: morning sunlight through my eyelids. When I finally opened my eyes,
Speaker 1: I could not see my mother's ghost. The air still
Speaker 1: crackled with energy and smelled like her perfume, and I
Speaker 1: expected her around every corner. I poured myself a bowl
Speaker 1: of cereal and felt eyes boring into the back of
Speaker 1: my head. I lifted the spoon, chills rising on my neck.
Speaker 1: I put the spoon in my mouth and crunched into
Speaker 1: the cereal, and a bitter taste exploded over my tongue.
Speaker 1: There was a disgusting, wet texture coating my mouth, and
Speaker 1: I felt something moving and spit it out with a gasp.
Speaker 1: There was half of a leathery brown cockroach legs still
Speaker 1: crawling in the air as it got sleeked onto the
Speaker 1: table and dropped my spoon into the bowl, which I
Speaker 1: realized Horror was now writhing with a wet mass of
Speaker 1: giant roaches spilling out over the sides and swarming the spoon.
Speaker 1: Pushed back from the table invulsion, and saw her, then
Speaker 1: silent and hovering in the doorway. She smiled and her
Speaker 1: teeth looked thin and sharp. I at my girlfriend Alice
Speaker 1: for lunch at her apartment, as I usually did when
Speaker 1: we both had the afternoon free. I sat across from
Speaker 1: her with steaming bowls of rice and vegetables on the
Speaker 1: table between us and her big sweater draped over my shoulders.
Speaker 1: I am being haunted by my mother's ghost. Alice took
Speaker 1: both my hands in hers and kissed them. Estrangement sucks,
Speaker 1: she said, simply. No, I mean she's dead. I think
Speaker 1: you think she's been in my apartment, only she doesn't
Speaker 1: have feet and you can see straight through her. Baby,
Speaker 1: She sounded wary. Have you been sleeping and taking all
Speaker 1: your meds and everything? It's hard to sleep with your
Speaker 1: mother's ghosts standing over you. And yes, I have been
Speaker 1: taking all my meds. I took a breath and pulled
Speaker 1: my hands back from Alice's feeling defensive. They're just anxiety,
Speaker 1: meds and ship. Anyway, I know what I saw, Alice frowned,
Speaker 1: eyebrows knitting together. I just care about you, and I
Speaker 1: am literally on antipsychotics. It wasn't a dick. Alice's shoulders
Speaker 1: clenched up into her neck, and I instantly felt guilty.
Speaker 1: We never had fights, and she had never doubted me
Speaker 1: before about anything. I told her my exhaustion and my
Speaker 1: anxiety had me assuming the worst in my partner, and
Speaker 1: it wasn't fair. I reached for her hands and she
Speaker 1: let me take them back shoulders, relaxing as I kissed
Speaker 1: each of her fingers. My situation did sound far fetched.
Speaker 1: I wouldn't believe it myself if I hadn't seen it
Speaker 1: with my own eyes, And there was only one way
Speaker 1: to get us back on the same page. Okay, would
Speaker 1: you like to come meet my mother? I was very
Speaker 1: much out before my mother died, and she had to
Speaker 1: have known I was a lesbian, but I had certainly
Speaker 1: never come out to her. When she discovered what she
Speaker 1: called and inappropriate friendship I had as a child with
Speaker 1: a girl my age, she took me to a doctor
Speaker 1: until I learned how to hide myself from her. I
Speaker 1: remember her relief when I finally found a boyfriend in
Speaker 1: high school, boy from the school play, who held my
Speaker 1: hand and brought me flowers and never ever tried to
Speaker 1: kiss me. When Alice and I walked into my apartment,
Speaker 1: it was cold and smelled like smoke and damp earth.
Speaker 1: Mom I didn't see her anywhere. Alice shivered and squeezed
Speaker 1: my hand. I could see goose bumps rising on her
Speaker 1: neck and her cheeks. There was a faint wrestling, and
Speaker 1: my curtains seemed to flutter a bit despite the windows
Speaker 1: being closed. Mom a soft skittering sound, and then nothing.
Speaker 1: Alice's hand felt cold and clammy, and I noticed her
Speaker 1: face was sweating a bit too. Are you okay? Alice
Speaker 1: took a deep breath and nodded. It's weird in here. Yeah,
Speaker 1: it's making my head hurt. I think I need to
Speaker 1: go home. Do Do you want to come stay the night? Yes? Please? Um,
Speaker 1: Let me just pack a few things, or you get
Speaker 1: to get home on your own. Yeah, no worries. I'll
Speaker 1: call you when I get there. Okay, I love you.
Speaker 1: I love you too. When I stepped back into the apartment,
Speaker 1: Mom was waiting near the sofa. Her fingers looked longer
Speaker 1: than before. Hey, Mom, I missed you. It was a lie.
Speaker 1: She seemed to get closer to me without actually taking
Speaker 1: a step, and I slid past her into the kitchen.
Speaker 1: I stood at the sink, watching my mother's ghost from
Speaker 1: across the open countertop that served as the only barrier
Speaker 1: between my kitchen and the main room of the apartment.
Speaker 1: I picked up a plate and a sponge and began
Speaker 1: to scrub nervously. My mother's ghost wore a dark expression
Speaker 1: that was Alice, She's my I was interrupted by a
Speaker 1: loud clattering sound from the coffee machine on the counter
Speaker 1: behind me. My coffee pot flew across the room, felt
Speaker 1: the air as it rushed past my face. Glass shattered
Speaker 1: against the far wall, and stale coffee pooled on the floor.
Speaker 1: I swept up the glass and mopped my floor until
Speaker 1: it's shown, but I could not scrub the yellow brown
Speaker 1: coffee stains out of the wall paper. I took the
Speaker 1: phone from the wall and dialed Alice, Hey, I can't
Speaker 1: come over tonight. What why? Not? Is everything? Okay? I
Speaker 1: think she's angry your mother? Yeah? Are you sure you
Speaker 1: don't want to Yeah, I'm sorry. I'll talk to you soon. Okay, Okay,
Speaker 1: I love you, you too. Clip. When I went to
Speaker 1: bed that night, I heard a soft, melodic humming in
Speaker 1: a voice that was almost my mother's, and the figure
Speaker 1: hovered closer than before. It made me happy. I couldn't
Speaker 1: sleep that night or the night after. I had worked
Speaker 1: the day after that, and I was so exhausted afterwards
Speaker 1: that I nearly fell asleep on the train going home.
Speaker 1: My mother's ghost stood in the kitchen when I finally arrived,
Speaker 1: making a face of disgust at me and my apron
Speaker 1: and dirty shoes, stinking of dish water. Her hair was
Speaker 1: matted in some places, hanging loose in other skin stretched
Speaker 1: and discolored. She stank too sweet and foul and musty.
Speaker 1: I'm sure our faces must have mirrored each other, then
Speaker 1: masks of disgust. As I lay awake in bed that night,
Speaker 1: I heard something high pitched and soft and disjointed, something
Speaker 1: that was just far enough from humming to set my
Speaker 1: teeth on edge. I took to staying out as much
Speaker 1: as I could after that. Alice was very accommodating about
Speaker 1: all the extra nights I was spending at her apartment,
Speaker 1: and my mother's ghost was anything but On the occasions
Speaker 1: I had to return to pick something up or check
Speaker 1: on the place, I always found it in chaos. Often
Speaker 1: there were objects flying through the air, always the stink
Speaker 1: of decay, and another hole in the wall. My mother's
Speaker 1: ghost was looking less human, less familiar, every time I
Speaker 1: encountered her. Alice asked a few times if I wanted
Speaker 1: to move in with her permanently, and I did, but
Speaker 1: of course I couldn't. My apartment smelled like old cigarettes
Speaker 1: and wrought. The walls were full of holes in the
Speaker 1: floor strewn with broken glass and shredded paper and torn fabric.
Speaker 1: There was no way I was going to get my
Speaker 1: deposit back on the place, and even in full it
Speaker 1: certainly wasn't enough to cover the extent of the damage. Besides,
Speaker 1: I couldn't very well move out, just leave my mother's
Speaker 1: ghost there to haunt some stranger. On the first chili
Speaker 1: afternoon that winter, I went to my apartment to fetch
Speaker 1: my coat. When I got there, I was instantly overcome
Speaker 1: with nausea, dizziness, and exhaustion, and the room swam in
Speaker 1: front of my eyes, and my knees threatened to give
Speaker 1: out underneath me. I dropped down on the couch and
Speaker 1: sank back, my head resting against the torn fabric and
Speaker 1: exposed foam. My vision tunneled out into a black hole.
Speaker 1: My head throbbed. I closed my eyes lying on the couch.
Speaker 1: The nausea is settled, and a comforting warmth spread over
Speaker 1: my body. I could hear my mother humming. Suddenly I
Speaker 1: was not in my apartment at all. I was surrounded
Speaker 1: by the humming and beeping of machines and the squeak
Speaker 1: of new rubber shoes against an old tile floor. I
Speaker 1: smelled chemicals and sick and sweat. I heard an authoritative
Speaker 1: voice fading in and out, using words like treatment resistant
Speaker 1: and experimental in miners. Then I heard screaming and felt
Speaker 1: a jolt of electricity through my body, and I drew
Speaker 1: in a hard breath and opened my eyes. That was
Speaker 1: back when my roomed apartment, and the sharp hands of
Speaker 1: my mother's ghosts were pressed into my head, sending jolts
Speaker 1: of what felt like electricity down through my spine. Took
Speaker 1: all my strength to get to my feet and make
Speaker 1: it to the door. When I slammed it shut, my
Speaker 1: mother's ghost stayed behind it, and the strange sensation baited.
Speaker 1: It wasn't until I was halfway to Alice's that I
Speaker 1: even remembered my coat. Screw the coat. I decided I
Speaker 1: had to get out of there. When I asked Alice
Speaker 1: if she was still open to me moving in with her,
Speaker 1: she gave me an emphatic and immediate yes. She met
Speaker 1: me at my apartment as soon as she finished work.
Speaker 1: We spent the day packing up all my belongings, throwing
Speaker 1: away everything my mother's ghost to destroyed, sweeping and mopping
Speaker 1: and scrubbing and painting, and patching all the holes in
Speaker 1: the walls, and trading SIPs of wine from a bottle
Speaker 1: that had somehow remained untouched on the top of the
Speaker 1: fridge until now. By the time we had finished, it
Speaker 1: was late and we were a little bit drunk, and
Speaker 1: the bus was no longer running. The moving truck was
Speaker 1: coming in the morning to collect my things, so I'd
Speaker 1: have to be there anyway. My mother's ghost wasn't around,
Speaker 1: at least I couldn't see or hear her. I never
Speaker 1: did around Alice. Alice and I laid together on my
Speaker 1: stripped bear mattress in the living room, just for a moment,
Speaker 1: to regroup and prepare ourselves for the cold walk back
Speaker 1: to her place. My eyelids grew heavy, and I felt
Speaker 1: my body melting into the warmth of hers. The next
Speaker 1: thing I knew, I was jolting out of a deep sleep,
Speaker 1: with Alice gently snoring beside me. The room was dark
Speaker 1: and cold. At first I thought I had awoken on
Speaker 1: my own accord, but then I saw her. The figure
Speaker 1: looked nothing like my mother anymore. She stood over us,
Speaker 1: empty eyes in a hollow face. Mom I whispered, wrapping
Speaker 1: an arm around Alice to try to protect her or
Speaker 1: wake her. The figure's eyes glowed red, and the silhouette
Speaker 1: contorted into something long and sharp and inhuman. Mom and
Speaker 1: a flicker, she appeared directly in front of our faces,
Speaker 1: needle teeth hanging out of an empty skull, and long,
Speaker 1: long fingers. Alice, Baby, wake up. Alice blinked and started
Speaker 1: to sit up, and then the figure was upon her,
Speaker 1: pressing its long, long fingers into Alice's throat. I tried
Speaker 1: to pry the hands away, but I slipped right through
Speaker 1: them like air. I grabbed Alice by the shoulders then
Speaker 1: and tried to pull her away. She was shaking, her
Speaker 1: face turning purple, body thrashing violently. Then she got paler
Speaker 1: and stiller, and her eyes grew on focused, and I screamed,
Speaker 1: kicking the air where the figure hovered and pulling desperately
Speaker 1: on my girlfriend. I was sobbing and shaking, almost as
Speaker 1: violently as Alice. Alice is more family to me than
Speaker 1: you ever were, And if you still consider me a totter,
Speaker 1: then she's your family too. I love her, I want
Speaker 1: to marry her. I am a lesbian, and there is
Speaker 1: absolutely nothing you could ever do about it except make sure,
Speaker 1: I die hating you. The air shimmered, and then suddenly
Speaker 1: the room was still, and it was empty, and Alice
Speaker 1: was lying silent and pale except for the bruises on
Speaker 1: her neck. Then I saw the faint flutter of movement
Speaker 1: as she drew in a shallow breath. I squeezed her hand,
Speaker 1: she squeezed back. We both exhaled. The rest of the
Speaker 1: night was a blur of ambulance lights and hospital smells
Speaker 1: and beeping machines and Alice's raspy breathing. The doctor said
Speaker 1: that she would be fine, but they asked me to leave.
Speaker 1: She promised to call me as soon as she was out.
Speaker 1: Alice begged me not to return to the apartment alone,
Speaker 1: and even offered to go with me yourself, but I
Speaker 1: knew I had to do it. I braced myself before
Speaker 1: walking inside, breath catching in my chest. As the key
Speaker 1: turned to the lock, click, I stepped inside. The air
Speaker 1: was warm and still. Sunlight streamed through the open blinds
Speaker 1: onto my still packed boxes, ready for the truck. I
Speaker 1: didn't feel watched or threatened or trapped. My head didn't pound,
Speaker 1: I could see, I could breathe. My apartment was empty.
Speaker 1: I sat down on the couch, buried my head in
Speaker 1: my hands and wept. M it was her in the woods?
Speaker 1: You thought it was her? Yes, I assure you, dear,
Speaker 1: she cannot harm you anymore. She will only ever cross
Speaker 1: my threshold when she's ready to rest. Good that in mind,
Speaker 1: Perhaps you'd like to rest yourself? Yeah, I would up
Speaker 1: the stairs, tenth door on the left. Thank you. And now,
Speaker 1: my dearest aunt, Bill, the time is drawing, nigh. I
Speaker 1: can see it in your eyes. They aren't as sharp
Speaker 1: as they were when you first arrived. You know what
Speaker 1: she saw out there in those woods? Now, what's been
Speaker 1: chasing you? Twelve Ghosts starring Malcolm McDowell as the Innkeeper
Speaker 1: and Gina Rikiki as Annabelle. Episode ten, Poor Mother, written
Speaker 1: by Kit Faye with additional writing by Nicholas Takowski, Editing
Speaker 1: by Chris Childs and Stephen Perez, featuring Lauren Vogelbaum as Eloise.
Speaker 1: Directed by Nicholas Takowski. Original score and sound design by
Speaker 1: Chris Childs. Executive producers Aaron Mankey, Matt Frederick, Alexander Williams
Speaker 1: and Nicholas Takowski. Supervising producer Josh Thame. Producers Chris Childs
Speaker 1: and Stephen Perez. Casting by Sunday Bowling c s A
Speaker 1: and Meg Mormon c s A. Production coordinator Wayna Calderon.
Speaker 1: Recorded at Lantern Audio in Atlanta, Georgia, engineered by Chris
Speaker 1: Gardner Aeros Sound and Recording in Ojai, California, engineered by
Speaker 1: Ken Arrows. Twelve Ghosts was created by Nicholas Takoski. That
Speaker 1: is a production of I Heeart, three D Audio and
Speaker 1: Grim and Mild from Aaron Manky. Learn more about the
Speaker 1: show at Grim and Mild dot com and find more
Speaker 1: podcasts from my heart Radio by visiting the i Heart
Speaker 1: Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen to your
Speaker 1: favorite shows.