 adds her to during the podcast that are not in my voice or placed by third-party agencies outside of my control and should not imply an endorsement by Weird Darkness or myself. Stories and content in Weird Darkness can be disturbing for some listeners and is intended for mature audiences only. Parental discretion is strongly advised. And what are these, Paul? asked Evelyn, opening a tarnished gold box and examining its contents curiously. Seeds of some unknown Egyptian plant, replied Forsythe, with a sudden shadow on his dark face as he looked down at the three scarlet grains lying in the white hand lifted to him. �Where did you get them?� asked the girl. �That is a weird story, which will only haunt you if I tell it,� said Forsythe, with an absent expression that strongly excited the girl's curiosity. �Please tell it. I like weird tales, and they never trouble me. Ah, do tell it. Your stories are always so interesting,� she cried, looking up with such a pretty blending of entreaty and command in her charming face that refusal was impossible. �You�ll be sorry for it, and so shall I, perhaps. I warn you beforehand that harm is foretold to the possessor of those mysterious seeds,� said Forsythe, smiling, even while he knit his black brows and regarded the blooming creature before him with a fond yet foreboding glance. �Tedon, I�m not afraid of these pretty atoms,� she answered, with an imperious nod. �To here is to obey. Let me read the facts, and then I will begin. Welcome, weirdos. I�m Darren Marlar, and this is Weird Darkness. Here you�ll find stories of the paranormal, supernatural, legends, lore, the strange and bizarre, crime, conspiracy, mysterious, macabre, unsolved and unexplained. Coming up in this episode In the days that followed the rescue of 11-year-old Terry Joe Duperault from the wreckage of the yacht called the Bluebell, it would become clear that a storm had not destroyed the ship as the previously rescued captain, Julian A. Harvey had said earlier, �A storm hadn�t killed everyone on board.� Harvey himself had. When a loved one passes away, we sometimes wish we could speak to them one last time. Some people report they receive phone calls or voicemails they believe are from their deceased loved ones. Sometimes they come through as eerie, otherworldly static, while other times the ghostly caller is able to communicate one last message. We�ll share a few stories from people who have received phone calls from the beyond. If you buy a furnished home and move the furniture to clean the floor, and the furniture moves back on its own, you can be pretty sure you�ve just moved into a haunted house, which is exactly what one family in Rockford, Illinois found out. What are the greatest monsters ever to be brought to the screen was the mummy, portrayed by Boris Karloff. We have of course seen numerous recreations of the creature since the original Universal film, but still the image is grotesque and frightening no matter the incarnation. To see a mummy in real life is that much more shocking, but real fear, real terror, would be if you yourself were to be mummified, while still alive. And I�ll end the episode with the story that I began it with, a short story by Louisa Mayalcott called Lost in a Pyramid, or The Mummy�s Curse. A story that went pretty much unnoticed when it was originally published in 1869, but has somewhat become undead since 1998 when it was rediscovered and is now considered an influential example of early Mummy�s Curse narratives. If you�re new here, welcome to the show, and if you�re already a member of this Weirdo family, please take a moment and invite someone else to listen. Recommending Weird Darkness to others helps make it possible for me to keep doing the show. And while you�re listening, be sure to check out WeirdDarkness.com where you can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Miwi and more, along with the Weird Darkness Weirdo�s Facebook group. Now, bolt your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights, and come with me into the Weird Darkness. When Captain Julian A. Harvey was found drifting in a small dinghy on the open sea on November 13, 1961, no one had any reason to doubt the story he told. While he was skippering the Bluebell, a yacht sailing out of Fort Lauderdale, for the Duperal family on a chartered voyage to the Bahamas, the ship had run into a storm the night before. Its mast had subsequently not only toppled, but also crashed through the hull where it hit the gas tank and ignited a fire. The entire ship went down, taking the Duperalts, a family of five, and Harvey�s own wife with it. The remains of one of the Duperalts children was in the dinghy with Harvey. He said he came upon her, floating in the water after he escaped the sinking inferno and pulled her onto the raft with him. The others who lost their lives aboard the Bluebell were never located, nor was the wreckage of the ship itself. But on November 16, something happened that complicated matters. An 11-year-old girl was discovered drifting on a cork float in the Northwest Providence Channel. She was severely sunburned and dehydrated and suffering from exposure. She was soon identified as Terry Joe Duperal, the middle Duperal child, and, aside from Harvey, the lone survivor from the wreck of the Bluebell. When she was located, Harvey reportedly responded with great surprise, �Why, that�s wonderful!� A day later, he checked into a motel in Miami under the name John Monroe, where he died by suicide. And in the days that followed, it would become clear that a storm had not destroyed the ship. A storm did not kill everyone on board. Harvey did. Harvey was responsible for all of it, and Terry Joe had witnessed it. The Duperalts, healed from Green Bay, Wisconsin. Arthur Duperalt, then-41, had formerly been in the Navy, where he served in the South Pacific during the Second World War. At the time of the Bluebell�s fateful voyage, he was an optometrist who was both well-liked by patients and well-respected in the community. His wife, Jean, was 38, and their three children, Brian, Terry Joe, and Renee, were 14, 11, and 7, respectively. Arthur had long had a dream of spending a year with his family sailing around the world, and in 1961, the Duperalts were at a point in their lives where they could afford to give the plan a trial run. If a week at sea cruising around the Bahamas sat well with them all, they would consider undertaking a longer journey with the children continuing to study aboard the boat as they traveled from Island to Island. So that November, they made their way from Green Bay to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, where they chartered a catch, the Bluebell, from Harold S. Pegg of Hollywood, Florida. The boat would be skippered by Julian A. Harvey, then-44, who, like Arthur Duperalt, was a military veteran. He'd served in the Air Force, while Harvey's wife, Mary Dean, 24 at the time, and a former airline attendant for TWA would cook and maintain the galley. They departed Fort Lauderdale on November 8, and for four days, life was bliss. They headed first to Bimini, then to the Abacos. The morning of November 12, a Sunday, both the Duperalt family and the Harvey's went to the office of the Village Commissioner in the great Abaco Island town of Sandy Point to fill out the necessary paperwork for their return to the United States. Arthur indicated to Commissioner Roderick W. Pinder that the trip agreed with his family enormously well. This has been a once-in-a-lifetime vacation, he reportedly said, will be back before Christmas. And here is where the narratives diverge. When Julian Harvey was pulled from the sea with the remains of Rene Duperalt on November 13 by the Puerto Rico-bound oil tanker, Gulf Lion, he said the Bluebell had been dismantled shortly before midnight the night before. According to Harvey, the falling mast had killed everyone aboard. Speaking to the Coast Guard in Miami shortly afterward, however, he said that the mast may have injured two people but did not mention it killing anyone outright. His story continued to take shape nonetheless, with a sudden squall at the center of it. The narrative he arrived at spoke of the falling mast, a smashed hull, and damage to the ship's gas tank. As a fire tore through the vessel, Harvey said the mast and the rigging trapped everyone on board, or at least nearly everyone. Harvey was able to launch the ship's dinghy, but unable to reach anyone else amidst the fire and chaos, he alone escaped. Sometime in the night he spotted Rene floating by and pulled her aboard the dinghy, but she could not be saved. The Coast Guard set an inquiry for November 27. It was expected to be an open and shut case, with only one survivor and nothing to indicate anything untoward about this report, there was no reason for it to be anything but. But on November 16, Terry Joe Duperalt was rescued. A day later, Harvey was dead. And in the days that followed, a new story emerged, one different from the one Harvey had told in virtually every way. When Terry Joe, who was taken to the hospital in Miami, had recovered enough to speak of what had happened, she told investigators that she had retired to her cabin for bedtime at around 9 p.m. the evening of November 12, while her parents and siblings remained on deck. In the middle of the night, however, she awoke to the noises of stamping, running, and screaming. She recognized her brother Brian's voice yelling for help. After a moment of silence, she emerged from her quarters in the main cabin, where she saw Brian and her mother Jean lying dead in a pool of blood. As she continued up to the deck, she saw more blood and also that the boat was unhelmed. She saw Harvey carrying what she thought might be a bucket. He yelled at her to get back below deck and pushed her down the stairs. She heard more noises, sloshing, jumping, hammering. Soon, water began to rise in the cabin. Terry Joe climbed once more to the main deck, where Harvey told her the ship was going down, although notably she did not report seeing a broken mast. Harvey then jumped ship, heading for a dinghy that he had apparently loosed into the water previously, and leaving Terry Joe alone on the sinking ship. Thankfully, she remembered that she had previously seen a cork float on the ship, and more importantly, she remembered where it was. She was able to untie it and escape upon it, as the ocean claimed the bluebell and all those left to board on it. She floated for three days before a Greek freighter, the Captain Theo, bound and rescued her. In the investigation that followed, details about Harvey emerged that, while not outright incriminating, were unsettling, given what was now known about his final days. Terry Dean was his sixth wife. She and Harvey had been married for about four months at the time of her death. His previous ex-wives described him as difficult, vain and inconstant in his affections according to Time magazine. Or at least that's what the ones who were still alive said. His second wife, Joan, died in a car crash in 1949. That same crash also claimed Harvey's mother. Harvey himself had been at the wheel when the car careened through a bridge and into a canal. Harvey escaped, more or less unscathed, but both his wife and his mother, who remained trapped in the car, drowned. It was never fully investigated. However, diver Steve DeCosta, who inspected the wreck, said according to Time, at that speed and short distance, it seemed unlikely that a man could get out of the car before it struck the water, unless he was ready to get out of it. Are you inclusive? No. Suspicious? Yeah, a bit. Harvey was apparently also in financial trouble, which would be one thing if it weren't for one additional detail. In August of 1961, just a few months before the Bluebell set sale, he took out an insurance policy on Mary Dean's life. The policy was a double indemnity one and worth $20,000, meaning that if her death was accidental, the payout would be $40,000. And after months of investigating, the Coast Guard came up with a verdict. They announced on April 25, 1962 that Harvey was responsible for scuttling the Bluebell and murdering everyone aboard. For those who are curious, here's the timeline of events from the day the Bluebell set sale to the day the Coast Guard's verdict came out, based on news reports from 1961 and 1962 retrieved through the New York Times' Time Machine Archive. On November 8, 1961, the Duperalts set sale out of Fort Lauderdale with Harvey at the helm. On November 12, 1961, Harvey murders the family and his wife and scuttles the ship. He departs on a dinghy. Terry Joe escapes on a cork flit. November 13, 1961, Harvey is found with Renee's body. He tells his story both to the tanker who rescued him and later to the Coast Guard. At this time, the Coast Guard have no reason to doubt his version of events. Three days later, November 16, 1961, Terry Joe is found. The next day, November 17, 1961, Harvey checks into a motel in Miami under the name John Monroe. He dies by suicide. Two days pass, November 19, 1961, Terry Joe is questioned about what happened aboard the Bluebell for the first time. Subsequent reports include her full statement as summarized by the Coast Guard. Harvey is publicly identified in these reports as a possible culprit. The next day, November 20, 1961, Harvey is buried at sea. That same day, insurance information is disclosed. The policy taken out on Mary Harvey in August would pay out $40,000 in the event of an accidental death. November 19, 1961, the Coast Guard investigates. The highlights, a friend slash administrator of Harvey's estate, attempts to collect his papers. He is stopped from doing so by the police. It also came out that Harvey's story changed between when he was first picked up and when he spoke to the Coast Guard. Additionally, it is remarked that he did not seem to express any grief about the disaster. November 23, 1961, Terry Joe is finally informed of her family's deaths. November 27, 1961, Terry Joe is questioned again. Her story remains consistent and therefore is, per a Coast Guard spokesperson, more convincing than ever. December 1, 1961, the Coast Guard turns the case over to the U.S. District Attorney. No further news reports are forthcoming until the investigation is concluded. Then, April 25, 1962, a little more than six months after the incident, the Coast Guard rules Harvey responsible for the murders of the Duparalts and Mary Dean and, of course, scuttling the boat. Although we now know roughly what happened, we don't know why it happened and we probably never will. It's been theorized that perhaps Harvey intended to kill his wife to collect on the insurance policy but was interrupted by one or more of the Duparalts and subsequently killed them to cover his tracks. But ultimately, the whys and wherefores behind the crime also died with Julian Harvey and a motel in Miami. But Terry Joe Duparalt survived. She made a full recovery and she has lived a long full life. She now goes by the name Terry Duparalt Fassbender. She married, she had children, and now has grandchildren. In 2010, she worked together with Richard Logan, an expert in the psychology of solitary survival per his academic bio to publish a memoir about her experiences entitled Alone Orphaned on the Ocean. And most impressively, she built an incredibly successful career in the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources where she worked to protect the state's waterways. Yeah, far from spending her life far, far away from the water, she instead immersed herself in it. What doesn't kill you and all of that, right? Coming up next on Weird Darkness, when a loved one passes away, we sometimes wish we could speak to them one last time. Some people report they received phone calls or voicemails they believe are from their deceased loved ones. Sometimes they come through as eerie otherworldly static, while other times the ghostly caller is able to communicate one last message. We'll share a few true stories from people who have received phone calls from the beyond. Up next. Are you a member of the Darkness Syndicate? The Darkness Syndicate is a private membership where you receive commercial-free episodes of the Weird Darkness podcast and radio show. Behind the scenes, video updates about future projects and events I'm working on. You can share your own opinions on ideas to help me decide upon Weird Darkness contests and events. You can hear audiobooks I'm narrating before even the publishers or authors get to hear them. You also receive bonus audio of other projects I'm working on outside of Weird Darkness. You get all of these benefits and more starting at only $5 per month. Join the Weird Darkness Syndicate at WeirdDarkness.com slash Syndicate. That's WeirdDarkness.com slash Syndicate. Can the dead manipulate electronic devices? Can they reach back through the fabric of time and space from wherever they are and influence the workings of our communications devices, or phones, to leave one last message to say one last goodbye? As fantastic as it seems, the mystery of phone calls from the dead is not an uncommon one. Those who have researched the phenomenon have determined that these calls usually occur within the first 24 hours of the death, but there have been cases in which the calls were received as long as two years after. The call is usually filled with heavy static and the phantom caller's voice is faint as if far away. Other times, the dearly departed sounds as if they're in the next room, alive as can be. Following are some remarkable instances of phantom phone calls, as told by the people who experienced them. From Redditor, NeedsAnswersNows. I lost my sister to, quote, suicide. I put that in commas because I still do not believe it was a suicide, for the fact she left no explanation for anybody and more so didn't tell me anything before it. Being a year apart in age, her and I were extremely close. I was asleep in my bed with my girlfriend when I was woken by my phone ringing. It will occur up too. This is how I know it wasn't me dreaming. It was 3.37 am. I know this because when it rang, I looked at the screen to see what number was calling me and I saw the time. It was a private number, unknown number. Usually, I will not answer private number calls, but being half asleep and guessing it was probably a drunk friend ringing to be picked up from somewhere, I answered. I said hello and all I could hear was this muffled kind of static sounds. No one replied, so again I said hello. Again, no response, so I thought it was probably just a prank call or something and I was about to hang up when I heard my name get called. Paul. It was clear as day and sounded 100% like my sister. I kind of froze and started to panic, said her name a few times, pretty much pleading it to be her, then all I heard was, I'm sorry, I love you, please help me. The last bit is what really made me upset and uneasy, the please help me. I asked where she was, then I heard a really, really loud screeching sound. Then it went back to the dial tone from Redditor Lou Layon. My grandpa passed away a year ago almost and I was sitting in the living room with my grandma chatting and having some snacks. The house phone started ringing, she picks up the phone and her face went completely pale. She hangs up and started crying. My grandpa had just passed at this moment and we were all really sad and depressed since he was such a kind and caring soul. My grandma explained to me through tears that my grandpa had called her. She said she recognized his voice and he was whispering that he was okay and that my grandma would be okay too, even without him. They had been married for 61 years and they were still madly in love when he left us. This helped my grandma a lot and she wasn't a believer in paranormal stuff but it made her think a lot about that and is really open-minded about this stuff now. We often discuss this and we all agree that it wasn't some kind of bad joke. We had a lot of strange things happen after his death but always on the good side a strange. I miss him a lot but it helps me to think he is okay and he is showing us that he is. Just prior to my granny passing away she had ordered some bits from a catalog. My dad popped over to her house around two weeks after she died and found a We Missed You card on the doormat so he called the distributor to explain and ask if he could cancel the order. When he said that he was phoning on behalf of Mrs. X from X Address the man stopped him saying that he had a call from her two days ago canceling her order. My dad explained no that's not possible. The guy insisted that's exactly what happened saying my granny had apologized said that she was unexpectedly going away. Obviously my dad had quite a few questions. Apparently this wasn't the first message that he had from the other side via a phone call. Weirdest thing ever. From Redditor, Plankiston, 14. This actually just happened to me. My grandmother ended up having cancer in her liver, lungs and the bottom of her esophagus. She was in the hospital for about 16 days and had a very small chemo treatment the day before she passed. It had been about six months since she had passed when the phone call occurred. Since I worked in an ER at the time I always wore my Fitbit in case there was ever an emergency at home and I didn't have my phone on me. There have been a few family issues around this time with an aunt that everybody hates selling things of hers and stealing from my grandpa. I cried and pleaded out loud for God or my grandma to ease my worries and hurt. I fell asleep soon after. I woke up suddenly to my Fitbit vibrating like crazy. I looked down and start checking who had texted me or called. It said missed call from Grandma Brenda Cell and missed call from Grandma Brenda Home. I stared at my Fitbit and thought, okay, number one, her cell phone line is gone. Number two, even if the phone is working, my grandpa has his own cell phone. Three, why would my grandpa be up at 3am and call me out of all people? I grab my phone and see the notifications don't even show up on my phone or in my call log. Then all of a sudden I get two notifications on my phone saying, voicemail from Grandma Brenda Cell and voicemail from Grandma Brenda Home. I didn't know if I should listen to them because I was freaked out. I did and the first one was her saying, I hope all is well with school, work and your mom. I love you and just remember that always. Put your stress and worries aside, call me back soon. That was enough for me. I didn't even listen to the second voicemail from Redditor Haunted115. I also received a phone call on my landline soon after my father passed in 2006. Mine came up as unknown. I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone and let the answering machine pick up as I listened. What came through was nothing of this world, unearthly music. Imagine the flowers and butterflies being able to sing. I don't have any words to describe what I heard. I was covered in goosebumps from head to toe. I quickly went to listen to it again after it ended. There was no message on the machine, although there was plenty of room and no unknown number showed up on the caller ID. I believe it was a message from my dad. He didn't believe in an afterlife. He thought once she died, that was the end. Lights out. Mom and I have had enough unexplained experiences that we believe there is more. I think it was his way of saying, there is more. From Redditor, Siren X Song. So brief background. I work for a company that answers phones and takes messages for businesses when they are closed, out to lunch, after hours, etc. We answer for a variety of companies in different fields, including funeral homes. This situation has happened twice that I have talked to the person on the phone myself, so the first time it happened I took the message from this lady whose mother had passed recently. Body was already picked up and dressed and at the funeral parlor, visitation was scheduled for the following day. She calls in his weepy and asks if her mother's phone is still in her jacket pocket because they just got a call from that number. I end up dispatching the call, calling the director to leave the message verbally, and he says that he'll call her but the body is in the casket and the casket is closed, waiting in their parlor. I say, wow, weird. And he kind of chuckles and says, this kind of thing happens more often than you would think. From Redditor, Salty Panda 93. So about a week after my great grandmother passed away, I was over visiting with my grandparents and we were all sitting around talking as usual with nothing out of the ordinary. Well, suddenly their landline phone rings and the number on the caller ID shows no name and only the number is 000 000 000. My grandad does this joke when he gets a weird call from someone he doesn't recognize and he says, I don't know anyone named 000 000 000 and he lets the answering machine get it. So a minute later, it shows that the ominous number did leave a message on the answering machine and we play it. As the message plays, there's about 10 seconds of static noise like somebody has a bad connection and then it stops and we hear a woman's voice say, I love you and we all immediately turned and looked at each other and didn't say a word. A few more seconds of static followed those words and the message ends. We all recognized the voice as belonging to my great grandmother. What adds to my belief that it was her is that she had this weird thing where she would never say the words I love you to anyone. She was a sweet lady but something about those words she would just never say, even if you said them to her. So I believe she regretted that and needed to pass that message along to my grandad. Nothing else happened since, but I will always remember that experience. From Redditor, ThatCatJack. My dad passed away in 2016. I had his phone after he died but I had taken his SIM card out and put mine in and so his was left in my bedroom at home. Anyway, I was walking to work and my phone started ringing and it was his number and it still said dad on the caller ID. I was freaked out but I answered it and all I heard was breathing. Then he hung up. I was really frightened and I phoned my sisters to ask if it was them but they said that they had gotten the same call. Spooky stuff. From Redditor, MandyLyn 1109 When I was 11, almost 12, my pop, that is grandpa, died after a long fight with lung cancer. We lived way down in the country. Still live in the same area, just across the street and the home health nurse who came three days a week for a year to care for him lived about an hour and 20 minutes away. He died early in the morning on November 27, 1994. That afternoon, when the nurse got home, there was a message on her answering machine left at 1.30 pm, November 27. It was my pop. He said, Tell June, I am all right. June is what my pop called my grandma. Her name is Patricia. From Redditor, Dotciani. When my best friend was murdered, I had multiple calls from her number. First, right after she died. I figured this out by comparing notes with the friend that survived and telling her what I saw and when the call came through. There was only a whisper on the other end. I couldn't tell exactly what the voice said but it sounded like help her. It was about 30 minutes to an hour before I was supposed to call the police to send her help if they didn't return. I was so freaked out. I called a close friend and told her. She asked what my gut instinct said to do and to follow that and then call her back after I called the cops. After the police showed up, I could hear them telling the murderer to sit down and the murderer saying that he didn't mean to. I was later told that there was no cell signal up there and that getting that call would have been impossible but I heard it clearly. The day after she was murdered, I also got a call from that number and so did her husband, a friend of the family and her sister. Occasionally, we'd get calls from that number until about a week after her funeral. The phone was in evidence with the battery removed from Redditor Madame Malia. I had this happen back in 2011. One of my best friends was passing away of a terminal illness. Back then I only had a flip phone and I barely used it. One day I was in a grocery line and the cashier and I knew each other because all three of us used to work together. He asked me how my friend was doing so I told him that last I knew she was in a coma. The lady behind me in line asked me if I was talking about my friend, she answered her by name and I replied yes. She informed us that my friend had actually passed away in her sleep two days prior. That shook me to my core. A few days later, I got a missed call and a voicemail with no callback number. It was my friend's voice and she said Madame Malia, it's me. She used my real name of course. I'll always regret not answering that call. Maybe I could have talked to my friend from the beyond. I went to her funeral the next week and her hands were folded over one another on top of her stomach. I held the top of her hand before I left. From Redditor Fos Spencer. My grandmother died in February 1996. She outlived my grandfather who had died in 1989. After her death, my father handled having her utilities disconnected and the home and the farm were sold pretty quickly. In 1999, I was running my family's newly opened business that was in a town about 120 miles north of where my grandparents were from and are buried. One day when my phone rang, I couldn't believe what I saw on the caller ID. It showed that the call was coming from my grandparents long disconnected phone number and my grandfather's name was also displayed. When I answered, there was no one on the line. I have no explanation for how this happened. From Redditor Threadhead. My wife's uncle. The family was all in the car on the way to his funeral. This was at least 10 years ago, so no spoofing numbers as far as I'm aware. All of a sudden, my wife's mobile phone starts to ring. It's an incoming call from her uncle. She tries to answer it, but it won't answer. It just keeps ringing. Nothing works. She can't stop it or even decline the call. I guess it was his way of saying a final goodbye to the family. The uncle's phone was switched off and in a drawer in an empty house at the time. From Redditor MysteryLady234. My childhood friend died three years ago. Each week, I would get a call and a text from my childhood friend. She died from leukemia. She said she was calling to check on me. I freaked out so much, so I have been there. From Redditor Essex Haunted. When I was a kid, I picked up the phone with an old lady on the other side asking for my mom by name. When I asked who it was, she said, Auntie May. My mom looked shocked and picked up the phone, but she was gone. She was brought up by Auntie May. Only Auntie May had died in 1962. When Weird Darkness returns, one of the greatest monsters ever to be brought to the screen was the mummy, portrayed by Boris Karloff. We have of course seen numerous recreations of the creature since the original Universal film, but still, the images grotesque and frightening, no matter the incarnation. To see a mummy in real life is just that much more shocking, but real fear, real terror would be if you yourself were to be mummified while still alive. But first, if you buy a furnished home and you move the furniture to clean the floor and that furniture moves back on its own, you could be pretty sure you've just moved into a haunted house. That's exactly what one family in Rockford, Illinois found out. That story is up next on Weird Darkness. Nothing goes better with chocolate than vanilla, and nothing goes better with the darkness than vampires. So we've combined all of them into a new blend of weird dark roast coffee called Very Vampilla. This bloody good blend combines a medium dark roast coffee with hints of chocolate, vanilla, and just a tad bit of dried cherry too. So good, you'll want to sink your fangs into the fresh roasted bag itself. Weird dark roast Very Vampilla, the only thing at stake, sorry, not sorry, bad pun, is your dissatisfaction with your old coffee. Sip it while the sun is down if you're one of the undead, or when the sun is up if you just feel dead and need a bit of a boost, get your Weird Dark Roast Very Vampilla at WeirdDarkness.com slash coffee. That's WeirdDarkness.com slash coffee. Some people say that they don't sense ghosts, but there are some who claim to know just by walking into a house that there are spirits lingering there. The family that moved into a house on the corner of School Street and Central Avenue in Rockford, Illinois, knew almost immediately that they had some unseen presence in their new home. The house was around 100 years old when the couple moved in with their six children. It was moving day, and the young wife was cleaning the house with her sister. The previous tenants had left some old furniture in several rooms. The front room had an old armchair that had seen better days. The women moved the chair into a hallway so that they could wash the floors. They moved on to another room to start the next cleaning project. Later, when they returned to the front room, the chair was back in the original spot. The women said they knew from that moment on that something was not quite right about the house. In an article written before they registered Star from 1987, the family claimed that though they were startled at times, they were never really scared by their spirit. It was rather unsettling though when they were home all alone and the stereo would turn on and off. They were also frustrated several times when something they had just set down would be moved to a completely new location. One time the young wife had arrived home and set her keys on the counter. When she went to leave a little while later, the keys were no longer on the counter. She found them several hours later, in the basement, a room she hadn't gone into since she arrived home. The young family claimed that they thought the ghost was a man who must have had children. He seemed to like to spend time in the youngest child's room. They had a rocking chair in the room and sometimes it would begin to rock by itself. It made a distinctive sound as the runners moved back and forth on the carpeting. They would often hear their daughter talking to someone, though no one happened to be in her room at the time. The young couple did a little digging into the history of the house and found that the haunting had started years earlier. They questioned several of the previous owners about their experiences in the home. It was soon clear that these strange encounters had gone on for decades. Most of the stories were similar, footsteps coming down the stairs, things moved from place to place, including heavy pieces of furniture. One family that had lived in the home during the early 1970s had trouble with their attic light going on by itself. Apparently the father thought his sons were trying to play tricks on him. He decided to end their fun by removing the light bulbs from the sockets. No one laughed when they came home late one night to see the light shining in the attic. The dad marched the boys right up those stairs all the way to the attic. They ran down quickly when they realized the light sockets were still empty. One elderly lady that lived in the house in the late 1960s claimed that she too was visited by the spirit. She would often hear the heavy footsteps walking on the second floor. They always seemed to stop by the front bedroom. One day she was alone in the house and heard the footsteps walking across the hallway to the front bedroom. She went up to find the room, completely empty. She sat down on the bed for a while. She had decided that she imagined the whole thing and was just about to get up when she felt a presence sit down on the bed next to her. She said she saw the bed move like a large adult had sat down. The old lady had questions of her after that incident. She found out from the neighbors that a family built the house in the 1890s and generations of the same family lived in the house. The elderly woman always felt that the ghost was the head of one of those generations. She felt he looked after the families that stayed there. The young couple that purchased the house in the 1980s felt the same protective spirit. They soon got used to items moving around and the sound of footsteps walking through the 14 room house. The young wife even named him Henry. She decided to leave the armchair in the front room just where Henry liked it. Research into the house on School Street proved that some of the history was true. The house was built around 1893 by Julia Ginders. Julia and her husband Joseph had arrived in Rockford around 1878. Joseph passed away and Julia built the large house on School Street for her daughters. Mary S. Sinfanny lived in the house on School Street with their mother until her death in 1904. Mary would marry Harry B. Andrews in 1892 in the home on School Street. The newspaper articles described a very fancy wedding for the young couple. The couple stayed in the home after the wedding and eventually would raise their two children there. Harry would become a prominent lawyer in Rockford and open his own firm in the Brown building downtown. Later his son Charles would join him in the firm. The Andrews family was well known on the west side of Rockford and Harry donated a large parcel of land to build a park in his father's name. Andrews Park still exists a few blocks up from the house on School Street. Harry Andrews died in the house on School Street on August 5, 1941. Mary lived in the home until the time of her own death in 1961. She left her children in a state worth $170,000 when she passed away. Harry and Mary's children built successful lives of their own and moved out of the house on School Street. May never married and Charles became a lawyer like his father. Harry would be proud to know that Charles's daughter also became a lawyer. Though there would be no way to prove that the spirit felt in the house located on School Street is Harry Andrews, the homeowners certainly felt that they knew who they shared their house with. Harry was proud of his family's legacy to Rockford. He also was proud of being a protector for his family and maybe he still watches over those who live in the big house he once called home. Mummies are one of the many relics from our past which have quite a curious undertone in their origins and existence. Movies and TV shows have done an exceptional job in helping us clearly identify what a mummy looks like. Wrapped up in embalming cloth, the art of preserving dead bodies has long been popularly associated with Egypt. However, there are other cultures which practice mummification in other parts of the world, most notably Japan. What does Japan have to offer the world in the history of mummification? How prevalent was mummification in Japan and who practiced it? Between the years 1081 and 1903 around 20 monks have been believed to have mummified themselves. The belief underlying the practice of living mummification is Sokushinbutsu, which translated becomes Buddha in the monk's body. In practical terms, Sokushinbutsu involves dehydrating your own body from the inside out. Monks have to follow a strict diet, collected from the nearby mountains of Diwa. The diet helps the monks in getting rid of moisture, fat and muscles before they are placed in pine boxes. The monks are then left to meditate through their last days on this planet in that pine box. Before diving into a deeper overview of living mummies in Japan, it is important to know that many other cultures have also practiced mummification. So, what could have been the possible reason for encouraging the practice of mummification? The answer is found in the beliefs in different religions worldwide, where an imperishable corpse is considered a symbol of divine power. If the body does not perish after death, it apparently showcases the ability for connecting with forces beyond the physical realm. The most common instance of practicing mummification is in Egypt. Mummification in Egypt for royalty was used as a symbol of their power. Many believed that mummification was also an essential ritual for helping the soul of the departed cross into the underworld. The discovery of jars of essential items, such as food, clothes and even jewelry in Egyptian tombs alongside mummies stands as proof. The first instance of practicing mummification in Japan was with the Japanese shingon monks. The shingon monks of Yamagata are still the most common practitioners of the ritual of live mummification. Only a select few monks who performed the ritual were successful in being mummified alive. The monks perceived the act of live mummification as a sacrificial act for mankind. According to the monks, the act of live mummification would take them on the path to become Buddha in the body that they've received for this life. Monks believed that the practice of mummifying themselves alive lets them access the Tosita heaven. Furthermore, their beliefs also suggest that the monks would live in their afterlife in Tosita heaven for 1.6 million years. Interestingly, the beliefs with Sokushinbutsu also suggest that the monks gained the powers for protecting mankind on our planet. However, the method of live mummification was extremely painful as the process took up to three years to complete. So what exactly is involved? The practice of Sokushinbutsu emerged as an inspiration from Kukai, a 9th century monk and the founder of the esoteric shingon school of Buddhism in 806 AD. According to an 11th century account of Kukai, he did not die at all at the time of his death in 835 AD. On the contrary, he made his way into his tomb through crawling and entered a profound state of meditation. The account also states that Kukai would emerge again in almost 5.67 million years, at which point he will guide a specific number of souls toward salvation. The process of live mummification was developed through centuries of trial and error. Even now, there is no way to compromise with the lengthy and difficult process of live mummification. The most essential requirement and preparation for Sokushinbutsu was Mokushikaigyu, which translates to training in tree eating. The diet could find its origins in the most commonly prevalent practice in Taoism for abstinence from cultivated grains. The mere thought of embracing death with open arms and that too with preparations three years in advance takes a lot of courage. The monks practicing Sokushinbutsu would have to go through a strict dietary routine in which their food was restricted to nuts, roots, and buds from trees. In a spiritual context, the Sokushinbutsu regimen was intended to boost the strength of an individual's spirit. At the same time, it also helped them draw further away from the general human world. As the diet and meditation routine of the monks helped in getting rid of moisture, fat, and muscle, the changes to the body meant that it would resist decomposition even after death. Many monks are able to achieve successful preparation after completing the thousand-day cycle with the Mokushikaigyu diet. On the other hand, some monks prefer to go with two or even three cycles before they feel completely prepared. In the final stages of the Sokushinbutsu process, the monks had to be locked in a tomb with an air tube and an attached bell. The monk inside the tomb would ring the bell daily to indicate that they were still alive. If the monk does not ring the bell, then the monk is assumed to have died in the state of meditation while chanting the mantra of Buddha or Nanbutsu. The air tube is then removed and the tomb is sealed. Interestingly, the mummies which have been discovered in northern Japan are many hundreds years old, a testament to the centuries-old tradition. The living mummies of Japan definitely show a larger picture of religious hardship and the connections between the physical and the metaphysical. Up next, it's the short fictional story of a mummy's curse called Lost in a Pyramid by Luisa Mei Alcott when Weird Darkness Returns. Sometimes you feel a bit nutty, especially if you're a weirdo. If that feeling transfers to your taste buds as well, I've got some great news for you. Weird Dark Roast Nutty Mummy Coffee. Wrap your taste buds around this medium dark roast blend with shrouds of almond, honey, and chocolate. Each bag of nutty mummy is exclusive to Weird Darkness and is roasted to order. Then, bandaged, I mean, bagged specifically for you to ensure a maximum freshness for you, you're a mummy, and anyone else you share it with. Entomb your old coffee and bring your taste buds back from the dead with Weird Dark Roast Nutty Mummy at WeirdDarkness.com slash coffee. That's WeirdDarkness.com slash coffee. And now, the story I started at the beginning of this episode, the fictional short story by Luisa Mei Alcott, Lost in a Pyramid, also known as the Mummy's Curse. And what are these, Paul? asked Evelyn, opening a tarnished gold box and examining its contents curiously. Seeds of some unknown Egyptian plant, replied Forsythe, with a sudden shadow on his dark face as he looked down at the three scarlet grains lying in the white hand lifted to him. Where did you get them? asked the girl. That is a weird story which will only haunt you if I tell it, said Forsythe, with an absent expression that strongly excited the girl's curiosity. Please tell it. I like weird tales and they never trouble me. Ah, do tell it. Your stories are always so interesting, she cried, looking up with such a pretty blending of entreaty and command in her charming face that refusal was impossible. You'll be sorry for it, and so shall I perhaps. I warn you beforehand that harm is foretold to the possessor of those mysterious seeds, said Forsythe, smiling, even while he knit his black brows and regarded the blooming creature before him with a fond yet foreboding glance. Tell on, I'm not afraid of these pretty atoms, she answered with an imperious nod. To here is to obey. Let me read the facts and then I will begin, returned Forsythe, pacing to and fro with the far-off look of one who turns the pages of the past. Evelyn watched him a moment and then returned to her work or play, rather, for the task seemed well-suited to the vivacious little creature, half-child, half-woman. While in Egypt, commenced Forsythe slowly, I went one day with my guide and Professor Niles to explore the Cheops. Niles had a mania for antiques of all sorts, and forgot time, danger, and fatigue in the ardour of his pursuit. We rummaged up and down the narrow passages, half choked with dust and closed air, reading inscriptions on the walls, stumbling over shattered mummy cases, or coming face to face with some shriveled specimen perched, like a hobgoblin on the little shelves where the dead used to be stowed away for ages. I was desperately tired after a few hours of it and begged the Professor to return, but he was bent on exploring certain places and would not desist. We had but one guide, so I was forced to stay. But Jumal, my man, seeing how weary I was, proposed to us to rest in one of the larger passages, while he went to procure another guide for Niles. We consented, and assuring us that we were perfectly safe, if we did not quit the spot, Jumal left, promising to return speedily. The Professor sat down to take notes of his researchers, and stretching myself on the soft sand, I fell asleep. I was roused by that indescribable thrill which instinctively warns us of danger, and springing up I found myself alone. One torch burned faintly where Jumal had stuck it, but Niles and the other lights were gone. A dreadful sense of loneliness oppressed me for a moment, then I collected myself and looked well about me. A bit of paper was pinned to my hat which lay near me, and on it, in the Professor's writing with these words, I've gone back a little to refresh my memory on certain points. Don't follow me till Jumal comes. I can find my way back to you, for I have a clue. Sleep well and dream gloriously of the pharaohs, signed N. N. I laughed at first over the old enthusiast, then felt anxious, then restless, and finally resolved to follow him, for I discovered a strong cord fastened to a fallen stone and knew that this was the clue he spoke of. Leaving a line for Jumal, I took my torch and retraced my steps, following the cord along the winding ways. I often shouted what received no reply and pressed on, hoping it each turned to see the old man pouring over some musty relic of antiquity. Suddenly the cord ended and, lowering my torch, I saw that the footsteps had gone on. Crash fellow, he'll lose himself to a certainty, I thought, really alarmed now. As I paused, a faint call reached me, and I answered it, waited, shouted again, and a still, fainter echo replied. Niles was evidently going on, misled by the reverberations of the low passages. No time was to be lost, and, forgetting myself, I stuck my torch in the deep sand to guide me back to the clue, and ran down the straight path before me, whooping like a madman as I went. I did not mean to lose sight of the light, but in my eagerness to find Niles, I turned from the main passage, and, guided by his voice, he sent on. His torch soon gladdened my eyes, and the clutch of his trembling hands told me what agony he had suffered. Let us get out of this horrible place at once, he said, wiping the great drops of his forehead. Come, we're not far from the clue. I can soon reach it, and then we are safe. But as I spoke, a chill passed over me for a perfect labyrinth of narrow paths lay before us. Trying to guide myself by such landmarks as I had observed in my hasty passage, I followed the tracks in the sand, till I fancied we must be near my light. No glimmer appeared, however, and kneeling down to examine the footprints nearer I discovered to my dismay that I had been following the wrong ones, for among those marked by a deep boot heel were prints of bare feet. We had no guide there, and Juma wore sandals. Rising, I confronted Niles with one despairing word, lost as I pointed from the treacherous sand to the fast waning light. I thought the old man would be overwhelmed, but, to my surprise, he grew quite calm and steady. Thought a moment, and then went on, saying quietly, Other men have passed here before us. Let us follow their steps, for if I do not greatly err, they lead toward great passages, where one's way is easily found. On we went, bravely, till a misstep threw the professor violently to the ground with a broken leg, and nearly extinguished the torch. It was a horrible predicament, and I gave up all hope as I sat beside the poor fellow, who lay exhausted with fatigue, remorse, and pain, for I would not leave him. Oh, he said suddenly, If you will not go on, there is one more effort we can make. I remember hearing that a party lost as we are saved themselves by building a fire. The smoke penetrated further than sound or light, and the guide's quick wit understood the unusual mist. He followed it and rescued the party, make a fire, and thrust to Jamal. A fire without wood, I began, but he pointed to a shelf behind me, which had escaped me in the gloom, and on it I saw a slender mummy case. I understood it, for these dry cases which lie about in hundreds are freely used as firewood. Reaching up, I pulled it down, believing it to be empty, but as it fell, it burst open, and out rolled a mummy. A custom as I was to such sites, it startled me a little, for danger had unstrung my nerves. Laying the little brown chrysalis aside, I smashed the case, lit the pile with my torch, and soon a light cloud of smoke drifted down the three passages, which diverged from the cell-like place where we had paused. While busy with the fire, Niles, forgetful of pain and peril, had dragged the mummy nearer, and was examining it with the interest of a man whose ruling passion was strong even in death. Come and help me unroll this, I've always longed to be the first to see and secure the curious treasures put away among the folds of these uncanny winding sheets. This is a woman, and we may find something rare and precious here, he said, beginning to unfold the outer coverings, from which a strange, aromatic odor came. Reluctantly, I obeyed, for to me there was something sacred in the bones of this unknown woman. But to beguile the time and amuse the poor fellow, I lent a hand, wandering as I worked if this dark, ugly thing had ever been a lovely, soft Egyptian girl. From the fibrous folds of the wrappings dropped precious gums and spices, which half intoxicated us with their potent breath, antique coins and a curious jewel or two, which Niles eagerly examined. All the bandages, but one were cut off at last in a small head, laid bare, round which still hung great plates of which had once been luxuriant hair, the shriveled hands were folded on the breast and clasped in them lay that gold box. Ah, cried Evelyn, dropping it from her rosy palm with a shutter. Nay, don't reject the poor little mummy's treasure. I never have quite forgiven myself for stealing it, or for burning her, said Forsythe, painting rapidly as if the recollection of that experience lent energy to his hand. Burning her, oh, Paul, what do you mean? asked the girl, sitting up with a face full of excitement. I'll tell you, while busy with Madame Namomi, our fire had burned low for the dry case went like tinder. Our faint, far off sound made our hearts leap and Niles cried out, Pile on the wood, Jamal is tracking us, don't let the smoke fail now or we are lost. There is no more wood, the case was very small and is all gone, I answered, tearing off such of my garments as would burn readily and piling them upon the embers. Niles did the same, but the white fabrics were quickly consumed and made no smoke. Burn that! commanded the professor, pointing to the mummy. I hesitated a moment. Again came the faint echo of a horn. Life was dear to me, a few dry bones might save us and I obeyed him in silence. A dull blaze sprung up and a heavy smoke rose from the burning mummy, rolling in volumes through the low passages and threatening to suffocate us with its fragrant mist. My brain grew dizzy, the light danced before my eyes. Strange phantoms seemed to people the air and in the act of asking Niles why he gasped and looked so pale, I lost consciousness. Evelyn drew a long breath and put away the scented toys from her lap as if their odor repressed her. Forsythe's swarthy face was all aglow with the excitement of his story and his black eyes glittered as he added with a quick laugh. That's all, Jamal found and got us out and we both foresaw pyramids for the rest of our days. But the box! How keen do you keep it? asked Evelyn, eyeing at Askance as it lay gleaming in a streak of sunshine. Oh, I brought it away as a souvenir and Niles kept the other trinkets. But you said harm was fall towed to the possessor of those scarlet seeds, persisted the girl whose fancy was excited by the tale and who fancied all was not told. Among his spoils, Niles found a bit of parchment which he deciphered and this inscription said that the mummy we had so un-gallantly burned was that of a famous sorceress who bequeathed her curse to whoever should disturb her rest. Of course, I don't believe that curse has anything to do with it, but it's a fact that Niles never prospered from that day. He says it's because he has never recovered from the fall and fright, and I dare say it is so, but I sometimes wonder if I am to share the curse, for I have a vain superstition in me and that poor little mummy haunts my dreams still. Along silence followed these words. Paul painted mechanically and Evelyn lay regarding him with a thoughtful face. Maglumie fancies were as foreign to her nature as shadows are to noonday, and presently she laughed a cheerful laugh, saying as she took up the box again, why don't you plant them and see what wondrous flower they will bear? I doubt if they would bear anything after lying in a mummy's hand for centuries, replied Forsythe, gravely. Let me plant them and try. You know, wheat has sprouted and grown that was taken from a mummy's coffin. Why should not these pretty seeds? I should so like to watch them grow, may I, Paul? No, I'd rather leave that experiment untried. I have a queer feeling about the matter, and don't want to meddle myself or let anyone I love meddle with these seeds. They may be some horrible poison or possess some evil power, for the sorceress evidently valued them since she clutched them fast, even in her tomb. Now you are foolishly superstitious, and I laugh at you. Be generous. Keep me one seed, just to learn if it will grow. See, I'll pay for it. An Evelyn, who now stood beside him, dropped a kiss on his forehead as she made her request, with the most engaging air. But Forsythe would not yield. He smiled and returned the embrace with loverlike warmth, then flung the seeds into the fire and gave her back the golden box, saying tenderly, my darling, I'll fill it with diamonds or bonbons, if you please, but I will not let you play without witches' spells. You've enough of your own, so forget the pretty seeds and see what a light of the harem I've made of you. Evelyn frowned and smiled, and presently the lovers were out in the spring sunshine, reveling in their own happy hopes, untroubled by one foreboding fear. I have a little surprise for you, love, said Forsythe, as he greeted his cousin three months later on the morning of his wedding day. And I have one for you, she answered, smiling faintly. How pale you are and how thin you grow. All this bridal bustle is too much for you, Evelyn, he said, with fond anxiety, as he watched the strange pallor of her face and pressed the wasted little hand in his. I'm so tired, she said, and leaned her head wearily on her lover's breast. By the sleep, food, not air, gives me strength, and a curious mist seems to cloud my mind at times. Mama says it is the heat, but I shiver even in the sun, while at night I burn with fever, Paul. Dear, I'm glad you're going to take me away to lead a quiet, happy life with you, but I'm afraid it will be a very short one. My fanciful little wife, you are tired and nervous with all this worry, but a few weeks of rest in the country will give us back our blooming Eve again. Have you no curiosity to learn my surprise? he asked, to change your thoughts. The vacant look stealing over the girl's face gave place to one of interest, but as she listened, it seemed to require an effort to fix her mind on her lover's words. You remember the day we rummaged in the old cabinet? Yes. A smile touched her lips for a moment, and how you wanted to plant those queer red seeds I stole from the mummy? I remember. And her eyes kindled with sudden fire. Well, I tossed them into the fire, as I thought and gave you the box. But when I went back to cover up my picture, and found one of those seeds on the rug, a sudden fancy to gratify your whim led me to send it to Niles and ask him to plant and report on its progress. Today I hear from him for the first time, and he reports that the seed has grown marvelously, has bodied, and that he intends to take the first flower if it blooms in time to a meeting of famous scientific men, after which he will send me its true name and the plant itself. From his description it must be very curious, and I'm impatient to see it. You need not wait. I can show you the flower in its bloom. And Evelyn beckoned with the merchant's smile so long a stranger to her lips. Much amazed, Forsythe followed her to her own little boudoir, and there, standing in the sunshine, was the unknown plant, almost rank in their luxuriance, where the vivid green leaves on the slender purple stems, and rising from the midst, one ghostly white flower, shaped like the head of a hooded snake, with scarlet stamens like forked tongues, and on the petals glittered spots like dew. A strange, uncanny flower, has it any odor? asked Forsythe, bending to examine it, and forgetting in his interest to ask how it came there. None, and that disappoints me. I'm so fond of perfumes, answered the girl, caressing the green leaves which trembled at her touch, while the purple stems deepened their tint. Now tell me about it, said Forsythe, after standing silent for several minutes. I had been before you and secured one of the seeds, for two fell on the rug. I planted it under a glass in the richest soil I could find. Wattered it faithfully, and was amazed at the rapidity with which it grew, once it appeared above the earth. I told no one, for I meant to surprise you with it, but this bud has been so long in blooming, I've had to wait. It's a good omen that it blossoms today, and as it is nearly white, I meant to wear it, for I have learned to love it, having been my pet for so long. I would not wear it, or in spite of its innocent color, it is an evil-looking plant, with its adder's tongue and unnatural dew. Wheaton Niles tells us what it is, then pet it, if it is harmless. Perhaps my sorceress cherished it for some symbolic beauty. Those old Egyptians were full of fancies. It was very sly of you to turn the tables on me in this way, but I forgive you. Since in a few hours I shall chain this mysterious hand forever. How cold it is! Come out into the garden, and get some warmth and color for tonight, my love. But when night came, no one would reproach the girl with her pallor, for she glowed like a pomegranate flower. Her eyes were full of fire, her lips scarlet, and all her old vivacity seemed to have returned. A more brilliant bride never blushed under a misty veil, and when her lover saw her, he was absolutely startled by the almost unearthly beauty which transformed the pale, languid creature of the morning into this radiant woman. They were married, and if love, many blessings, and all good gifts lavishly showered upon them, could make them happy, then this young pair were truly blessed. But even in the rapture of the moment that made her his, Forsythe observed how icy cold was the little hand he held, how feverish the deep color on the soft cheek he kissed, and what a strange fire burned in the tender eyes that looked so wistfully at him. Blythe and beautiful as a spirit, the smiling bride played her part in all the festivities of that long evening, and when at last life and color began to fade, the loving eyes that watched her thought it with the natural weariness of the hour. As the last guest departed, Forsythe was met by a servant who gave him a letter marked Haste. Tearing it open, he read these lines from a friend of the professors. Dear sir, Paul Niles died suddenly two days ago while at the scientific club, and his last words were, Tell Paul Forsythe to beware of the mummy's curse, for this fatal flower has killed me. The circumstances of his death were so peculiar that I add them as a sequel to this message. For several months, as he told us, he had been watching an unknown plant, and that evening he brought us the flower to examine. Other matters of interest absorbed us till the late hour and the plant was forgotten. The professor wore it in his buttonhole, a strange white, serpent-headed blossom with pale glittering spots which slowly changed to a glittering scarlet till the leaves looked as if sprinkled with blood. It was observed that instead of the pala and feebleness which had recently come over him, that the professor was unusually animated and seemed in an almost unnatural state of high spirits. Near the close of the meeting, in the midst of a lively discussion, he suddenly dropped as if smitten with apoplexy. He was conveyed home insensible, and after one lucid interval in which he gave me the message I have recorded above, he died in great agony, raving of mummies, curamids, serpents, and some fatal curse which had fallen upon him. After his death, livid, scarlet spots like those on the flower appeared upon his skin, and he shriveled like a withered leaf. At my desire, the mysterious plant was examined and pronounced by my best authority, one of the most deadly poisons known to the Egyptian sorceresses. The plant slowly absorbs the vitality of whoever cultivates it, and the blossom, worn for two or three hours, produces either madness or death. Down dropped the paper from Forsythe's hand. He read no further, but hurried back into the room where he had left his young wife, as if worn out with fatigue, she had thrown herself upon a couch and lay there motionless, her face half-hidden by the light folds of the veil which had blown over it. Evelyn, my dearest, wake up and answer me! Did you wear that strange flower today? whispered Forsythe, putting the misty screen away. There was no need for her to answer, for there, gleaming spectrally on her bosom, was the evil blossom. Its white petals spotted now with flecks of scarlet, vivid as drops of newly spilled blood. But the unhappy bridegroom scarcely saw it, for the face above it appalled him by its utter vacancy. Drawn and pallet, as if with some wasting malady the young face so lovely an hour ago lay before him aged and blighted by the baleful influence of the plant which had drunk up her life. No recognition in the eyes, no word upon the lips, no motion of the hand, only the faint breath, the fluttering pulse and wide-opened eyes betrayed that she was alive. Alas for the young wife, the superstitious fear at which she had smiled had proved true. The curse that had bided its time for ages was fulfilled last, and her own hand wrecked her happiness forever. Death in life was her doom, and for years Forsythe secluded himself to tend with pathetic devotion, the pale ghost, who never by word or look could thank him for the love that outlived even such a fate as this. Thanks for listening. If you like the show, please share it with someone you know who loves the paranormal or strange stories, true crime, monsters or unsolved mysteries like you do. You can email me anytime with your questions or comments at Darren at WeirdDarkness.com. Darren is D-A-R-R-E-N. And you can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Mines, Miwi and more, including the show's Weirdo's Facebook group on the Contact Social page at WeirdDarkness.com. Also on the website, if you have a true paranormal or creepy tale to tell, click on Tell Your Story. All stories in Weird Darkness are purported to be true unless stated otherwise, and you can find source links or links to the authors in the show notes. The final voyage of the Bluebell was written by Lucia who were the ghost in my machine. Phone calls from Beyond the Grave was written by Amanda Ashley for Graveyard Shift. A haunting on School Street is by Cathy Cressol for Haunted Rockford. To Be Mummified Alive is by Bippin Dimmery for Historic Mysteries. And the short fictional tale The Mummy's Curse, also known as Lost in a Pyramid, was written by Luisa May Alcott. Again, you can find links to all of these stories in the show notes. Weird Darkness is a production and trademark of Marlar House Productions. And now that we're coming out of the dark, I'll leave you with a little light. Psalm 8 verses 3 and 4. When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars which you have set in place, what is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them? And a final thought by Jean-Paul Richter. Paradise is always where love dwells. I'm Darren Marlar. Thanks for joining me in the Weird Darkness.