 Stories and content in Weird Darkness can be disturbing for some listeners and is intended for mature audiences only. Parental discretion is strongly advised. Welcome Weirdos, I'm Darren Marlar and this is Retro Radio Sunday on Weird Darkness. Each week I bring you a show from the golden age of radio but still in the genre of Weird Darkness. I'll have stories of the macabre in horror, mysteries and crime, and even some dark science fiction. 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. And please, leave a reading and review in the podcast app you're listening from. Doing these things helps the show to keep growing. And while you're listening, be sure to check out WeirdDarkness.com for merchandise, my newsletter, to connect with me on social media and more. Coming up, it's an episode from Murder at Midnight aired October 11, 1946, entitled Death's Worshipper, about a series of brutal murders connected to a mad devil worshiper. Murder at Midnight was a show featuring macabre tales of suspense, often with a supernatural twist. It was produced in New York and was syndicated beginning in 1946. The show's writers included Robert Newman, Joseph Rascall, Max Erlich and William Norwood, and it was directed by Anton M. Letter. The host was Raymond Morgan. A total of 50 episodes were produced, 10 were syndicated and rerun on Mutual in 1950. The episode Devil's Worshipper, which we're about to hear, aired October 11, 1946, on KFI in Los Angeles. Now, bolt your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights, and come with me into the Weird Darkness. And now, Murder at Midnight, tales of mystery and terror by radio's masters of the macabre. Our story by J. Williams is a tale of fear from afar called Death's Worshipper. On the surface, it's a New York apartment like thousands of others, in a house with a brown stone front on a dark little street. But to Kate Bonney living here with her brother Peter, it has become a prison cell, a place of menace, a house of terror. This is how I were caught in a spider's web, waiting helplessly while the spider comes closer. But Kate, you still haven't told me just exactly what's troubling you. It's real, Peter. It's a feeling that, well, like in a nightmare when you know something, something awful is after you and you can't escape. It's drawing closer. It's coming here to this room to find me. What'll I do, Peter? What shall I do? Please, Kate, pull yourself together. You've got to. I'm sorry, Peter. I'll try. Oh, that's better. Now then, let's have it. I can't come home every night to a sister who's afraid of the dark. What's it all about? Do you remember the weekend I spent at Quitten's place in the country? Just after he got back from India? Yes, of course. You couldn't make it, and I went alone? The conference in Chicago, I remember. Reminds me. I wonder why I haven't heard from him since. Those letters he wrote about some discoveries he made. Discoveries. Don't mention them. Why not? Because I have an idea that they're behind everything that happened. What do you mean? He didn't even mention the expedition until after dinner that first night. There were just the three of us, Quitten, Sylvia, and myself. He went into quite a bit of detail describing his reasons for going. The long trip through the jungle. A little gone village and tackled what I was sure was the last belt of jungle. That last stretch took us six hours. At last we broke out into a clearing, and there it was, towering above us, the temple of Shiva, the destroyer. Oh, that must have been a thrilling moment. Thrilling? You can't possibly know what that meant to me. I was just frightened. Sylvia frightens rather easily. That's not true, Quitten. It's just that this... It looked like some kind of crouching beast with a single devil's horn. Rubbish. It was... It was breathtaking, Kate. Imagine a great square block of stone set in a riot of jungle foliage. Out of it rises a tremendous three-cornered spire fully a hundred feet high. Oh, that must have been magnificent. Yes, and the whole thing covered with a lace tracery of stone carving. And this was what you had set out to find? This was it. You see, the Hindutrimorti, or Trinity, is composed of three deities, Brahma, the creator, Vishnu, the preserver, and Shiva, the destroyer. Well, in this tiny district in the hills, there had once been a local cult which worshipped only the destroyer. In a curious and perverted way... What? Well, the worshippers became their god. I don't understand, Quitten. When they prayed to Shiva, the god himself entered and took possession of them. Well, they were Shiva, with all the powers and all the frightful energy of the god. Good heavens. And no, not a very good heaven. For you see, the heaven of these worshippers was nothingness. Nothingness? Yes. For them, the ultimate goal of man was destruction, the merging of oneself into a kind of cosmic non-existence. Now you can understand how I felt, Kate. And I first looked at that temple. Yes. I suppose that, yes, even a greater mind than yours, Sylvia, might well shrink before the majesty of a concept like that. I know I would have been frightened, too. But India is a place where just such a concept would originate. Life means nothing there. Death flourishes in a thousand forms. I climbed the spire of the temple and looked down over the sea of jungle to the brown river in the distance and the thread of smoke that marked the village. I was a midget, an ant, crawling over the surface of a giant's house. Shiva is the giant. And humanity? We're so insignificant. So worthless. I wonder if they weren't right after all those worshippers of the destroyer. Quentin. Perhaps death, nothingness, is the greatest goal. Stop it, Quentin. Stop it. Stop it. Do you hear? Sylvia. Oh, don't worry, Kate, and don't bother. Oh, but I don't... I'm all right now. Sorry, Kate. I think I'd better go to bed. Yes, you're tired, Sylvia. I am tired. These wild ideas of yours, of all this talk about Shiva, destruction, I wish you'd get those thoughts out of your head, Quentin. You hadn't been the same man since... Good night, Sylvia. Sylvia, are you sure you're all right now? Yes. Yes, Kate, I... I'm fine. But she wasn't fine, Peter. And it wasn't just fatigue that was bothering her. She was frightened, I could see that. Frightened out of her wits by... by something. And Quentin was different. When Sylvia had left us, he sat looking at me silently for a long while. And when at last he spoke, it was on another note. You know, Kate, all this talk of nothingness and death makes me believe more firmly than ever that man must try for happiness while he's alive. I agree. At least it's a pleasant subject than what we've just been talking about. I'm glad you think so. Because I'm not happy now, Kate. But I thought you and Sylvia... Sylvia, there's nothing between us, nothing. Hasn't been for years. No, not even when we first got married. But you, when I first met you with your brother Peter years ago, something... something happened to me. My heart sang. It was as though I had burst out my shell. I knew then... Quentin, you don't know what you're saying. I do. For the first time in years, I know exactly what I'm saying. I've found a philosophy I can believe in, Kate, in a troubled world. And for the first time, I've found strength to tell you that I love you. Quentin, please. Kate, listen. Don't be alarmed. It would be so easy to go away together. Anything is possible for me now. Anything. We will go away. It doesn't matter where. No. We'll find a new life together. The power I know can be yours too. I love you, Kate. We can make a new world for ourselves. We can be the gods of that world. Quentin, stop. I see. I didn't really expect you to say yes immediately. It is quite a decision. But perhaps I can get you to change your mind. Quentin, you mustn't think. You're right. I mustn't think. I must act. I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep after that. I didn't even try. I went out for a walk. When I got back, about a half hour later, there was a light in the studio at the far end of the garden. I was curious enough to walk over and look in the window. The room within was hung with oriental tapestries with odd crooked eastern swords. Quentin sat alone staring at a figure on the table before him. I could hear him through the window. His face was set, wooden, expressionless. But his eyes seemed to shine in a candlelight like a cat. And the figure before him, it was horrible. It was a bronze statuette with a serene but awful smile on its face, a smile of hellish triumph. A dozen arms sprang from each shoulder. It wore a club with a skull at its tip. And it seemed to dance upon the back of a crouching dwarf. Then Quentin, staring at it, was speaking to it. I don't know what I meant. I only knew that it was awful. But in some dreadful way, Quentin was trying to make his beliefs come alive. I ran up the lawn, and the clouds spread over the moon seemed like dark shapes rising from some infernal pit. Wings seemed to be beating about the house as the wind rose. And in my ears ran Quentin's chanting. Even in my room, I could hear it. Mangle with the moaning of the wind. The moon had disappeared. I couldn't see the light in the studio. I was too far to hear it. But the chanting went on. I don't know. I seemed to hear voices in the wind. Many voices chanting with Quentin. Thunder growled up from the darkness. Then there was a single flash of lightning. And it clapped with thunder. And on the heels of the thunder. Oh, Sylvia. All right. Sylvia, what's the matter? Kate. Sylvia, what was that? Where are you, Quentin? Here. I was down in the garden. Did you hear? Yes. It sounded like it came from Sylvia's room. This way. Quick. She must have been having a nightmare or something. Oh, Quentin. Quentin, look. The window. It torn right out of its frame. No. No, there. On the floor. Sylvia. Good lord. Is she? Let's see. Good heavens. Her head twisted all around until in her body. It looks as if almost every bone in it is broken. Staring at the broken body which has been flung against the wall with unimaginable force. Lying there like a shattered doll. Kate sways weakly in horror. Is this the work of some demon called up by Quentin's incantation? Or is it something else? Then as a clock strikes somewhere in the silent house she is certain of at least one thing in a reeling world that she is in the presence of... Murder! Admin! 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Just visit ClassicRadioStore.com, select all the radio show packages you want, then at Checkout, use the promo code Weird and save 20% on your whole purchase. That's ClassicRadioStore.com, promo code Weird at Checkout. And now back to Murder at Midnight and Death's Worshiper. Pale and shaking, Kate Bonnie continues telling her story to her brother. It was as though something with superhuman strength had twisted her head around and then... then just tossed her aside against the wall. Every bone in her body was broken. It must have been pretty ghastly, but surely you're not going to let the memory of that... It has nothing to do with memory. Something... something that's more than human. I don't know what kills Sylvia. And now it's after me. After you. Haven't you seen the papers in the last few days? No, you know I've been up to my neck in work. What's that got to do with it? Oh, look here. These clippings I've been saving them. Let's see. Another unsolved murder. Police admit bafflement. No motive. Well? Go on, read the rest of it. Middle-aged man identified as J.D. Brathwaite, broker. Neck was wrung apparently by someone with tremendous physical strength. Yes, and this one. An unidentified woman. Neck wrung and the body thrown against the wall. And this, and this, and this. All the same. Hey, darling, this is all perfectly ridiculous. No. No, look. Here's a map of our neighborhood. The first death took place up here. The next two blocks further south. Don't you see one after the other? They're coming closer to this house. To me. Kate. Now listen, it's quite clear what's happened. You were upset by Sylvia's death naturally. Just because of the coincidence of these crimes you have an obsession that someone or something is haunting you. You've been working too hard. And I suppose you've been having nightmares, too. They're not nightmares. I'm going to run across the street to Dr. Sanford. No, Pete. You lie down and try to rest. I'll bring Sanford over and have him take a look at you. You're all run down. No, Peter, don't leave me. You don't know what I'm... Pour yourself a drink, Katie. I won't be a minute. Who's that? Peter. Is that you? Peter, answer me. Is that... Who is it? Hello, Kate. How are you? Don't come any closer. I'll call Peter. Why, Kate? What's the matter? I suspected Ben when it happened. And now these last few days I know. Sylvia, you did it. You killed her, Quinton. I don't know how, but you did... Do you mistake him, Kate? It wasn't I. I was only the instrument of something greater, stronger than men. Quinton? What do you mean? Don't be afraid. He's really benign. He's Shiva, Shiva the destroyer. It is his love for mankind that allows him to bring the blessing of annihilation. Oh, no. I worshipped him and he came. He came in a rush of wind on the thunder and took possession of me. I was Shiva using my body. He climbed the wall, burst the window, and he killed Sylvia. No, no, no. Yes, Kate, I became Shiva. At least I must have. I don't remember it clearly, but there were great wings, lightnings. And when I came to myself, I was seated in my studio again. And those others? You know about them? Yes, I killed them. I don't remember how many. But all life will end in nothingness and man's highest goal is to dissolve into dust. I was conferring on them the highest possible blessing of obliteration. Quinton, you're mad. Your discovery made you... My discoveries made me a god. Now, now he's starting to come to me now without the incantation, without my willing. Sometimes at night I feel the great wind of his coming. I turn to ice as the god approaches to seize upon me, and Kate, I'm afraid. But why did you come here? What do you want of me? I need you, Kate. I'm afraid. That's the truth. I'm afraid of the blackness, of the nothingness, of the inevitable end of all things. When I'm alone, I feel the horror of it, of the darkness. You can save me, Kate. You're the only one who can help me. Sylvia's gone. There's nothing to preview. You don't know what you're saying. Come in, Doctor. Oh, Quinton. Hello. I wish I could... Stay where you are. Don't come any closer. A gun? No, look, Quinton. I warn you, don't come any closer. Stand still, Peter. Kate, for the last time, will you come? Quinton, please, please listen to reason. Put that gun down. Quinton, easy, Peter. I wouldn't mind killing you, Peter. But if you wish to live, stay where you are. And don't follow me. Has he gone mad? What? Hey, what happened? I... I'm not sure. He killed Sylvia. He admitted it. And he's killed... I don't know how many others. What? It's true. He believes that Shiva, the destroyer, controls him. He believes that when he kills, he's granting a blessings to the one he destroys. But that... That's crazy. No, not so crazy, Peter. May I say something? Of course, Doctor. I thought there was something wrong with him the minute I saw him. His eyes, I... I think it's a case of self-hypnosis. Something like the morows practice when they run amuck. They believe that they're possessed by God and while in the state, they can actually perform amazing feats of strength and endurance. A number of primitive peoples have the same belief, dervishes, Indian fakirs. Your friend must induce this state by an incantation of some kind or by concentrating on some object until the hypnotic state is induced. That's true. I heard him. I saw him praying to the image of Shiva. That's how he must do it. But it is true. He's extremely dangerous. We'd better get the police. May I use the phone? Wait, wait, I can't believe it. He certainly wasn't joking about that gun, Peter. And according to your sister, he's already killed several times. I... No. No, he mustn't do that. Peter's right. We're his friends. And he loves me. He said I was the only one who could help him. He really is afraid and alone. Of course, Kate. Doctor, Quent and I were kids together. If he's in trouble, we've got to do something to help him, not call the police down on him. Where do you think he's gone? I'm sure he's gone back to his house in the country. We could try there anyway. My car is just around the corner. I... I think we're taking an awful chance, but on the other hand... It's a chance we've got to take, doctor. He told me that Shiva comes to him now without incantation. I'm terribly afraid of him and of what might happen, but I'm more afraid of what he may do now to himself or to someone else. We turn right here below the toll gate. That dirt road? Yes. Look. Isn't that a taillight up ahead? Another car. It may be his. Hmm. There's a storm coming up. It'll just hold off for a while. A storm? Just... Just like that first one. There, the other car is turning off. That's the driveway to Quinton's house. Step on it. The house is dark. Perhaps we were wrong. No. I know where he is. This way around to the back. There's a light. That's the studio. Quiet. Let's have a look first. He's there. Alone. Sitting behind the table with some sort of statue in front of him. The statue of Shiva. The door's open. Come on. Peter. Listen. Quinton, what are you doing? The incantation. He's calling up that daemon. Quinton, stop. Quinton, it's Kate. Don't you hear me? Stop it, please. Please, Quinton. Kate. Kate, is that... He's in a trance. Shall we... No, no, don't touch him. The slightest thing now might turn him into a raging maniac. Let your sister try. Quinton, you must stop. This awful thing, it isn't you anymore. It's not what you want. You said you loved him. If that's true, you must shake his madness off. Kate. Calling me. I can't. He's too strong for me. Try, Quinton. Try. You can do it. Come back, Quinton. If you really love me, fight it. Fight it. I can't. He's coming. Coming. Can't you hear them? Get away, Kate, before he comes. Only one thing left. One thing I can possibly... I, the statue, smash it and... Don't move, Peter. What was it? Can't see. That flash. Lightning. It must have struck. Quinton. Quinton. Let me look, Kate. He's dead. That lightning bolt killed him immediately. Dr. Sanford. What's that on his forehead? Burn. Lightning does curious things. Yes, but there. The head of the statue he smashed. The same mark on its brow. Like an eye. A third eye. The mark of Shiva. The vengeance of a thought had gone. Or a coincidence. Kate and her brother looked at each other. Then again at the contorted face with that inexplicable burn edged like the mark of Keen upon its forehead. And in the distance, from some far off steeple, a clock begins to chime the hour. Twelve strokes for... Murder. Remember to be with us again when death hovers on dark bat wings and the clock strikes twelve for... Murder. A part of Kate was played by Bess Johnson and Carl Emory was Quinton. With music by Charles Paul, Murder at Midnight was directed by Anton M. Leder. Thanks for listening to this week's Retro Radio episode of Weird Darkness. If you like the show, please share it with someone you know who loves old time radio and leave a rating and review in the podcast app you listen from to help spread the word about Weird Darkness and Retro Radio Sunday. And a huge thanks to our friends at ClassicRadioStore.com for generously providing the old time radio shows you hear on Weird Darkness Retro Radio Sunday. Remember, you can save 20% on all of the ClassicRadioStore.com shows by using the promo code Weird at Checkout. The rest of the week, I narrate new stories of the paranormal or strange stories, true crime, monsters and mysteries. So be sure to subscribe to the podcast if you haven't already done so. I upload episodes 7 days a week. You can email me anytime and find all of my social media links on the contact page at WeirdDarkness.com. Also on the website, you can listen to free audiobooks that I've narrated, shop the Weird Darkness store, sign up for the newsletter to win monthly prizes and more. Weird Darkness is a production and trademark of Marlar House Productions. Copyright, Weird Darkness. I'm Darren Marlar. Thanks for joining me in the Weird Darkness.