In the chilling tale "The Symbols in Coldwater," Jacob Ellis seeks refuge from his chaotic city life in the desolate town of Coldwater. However, he quickly realizes that this seemingly forgotten place is steeped in decay and silence, with rotting buildings and an unsettling atmosphere. Jacob’s exploration reveals strange symbols carved throughout the town—two interlocking circles slashed with jagged lines—that seem to pulse with a disturbing energy.

The locals, with their vacant expressions and lifeless movements, provide no answers, intensifying Jacob’s obsession with the symbols. As he delves deeper into the mystery, Jacob begins to sense a dark force at play, intertwining his fate with the very fabric of Coldwater itself.

After experiencing a terrifying attack in his own home, Jacob recognizes the sinister connection between the symbols and the town's pervasive rot. Driven by a desperate need for understanding, he ventures into the depths of the surrounding forest, where the source of the horror begins to unfold.

As Jacob draws closer to the heart of the darkness, he must confront the chilling truth that something ancient and malevolent is awakening—and it may have chosen him as its next target.

Will he uncover the town's secrets before it's too late? What awaits him in the shadows of Coldwater?

Stay tuned for the next chapter, where the terror escalates, and Jacob faces his worst fears.

DONT FORGET TO VOTE FOR HIS DEMISE!

CLICK TO VOTE HERE - IT WILL TAKE YOU TO THE PATERON POLL

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The Maw of Coldwater (The Portal)

Classification: Ancient Entity, Sentient Rift, "The Consuming Mouth"

Description: The Maw, as Jacob encountered it, is far more than a simple portal. It is a living, breathing entity—a grotesque, sentient void that exists to consume life, time, and sanity itself. Its form resembles a massive, gaping hole in the earth, but closer inspection reveals its true nature. The edges of the Maw are lined with human bones, each sharpened into jagged spikes, gnawed and broken, arranged like teeth waiting to tear into the next soul unfortunate enough to draw near.

The surface of the Maw pulses rhythmically, like the slow, steady heartbeat of something ancient and impossibly large lurking just beyond the veil of reality. The portal's "flesh" is made up of swirling, ever-shifting sand and blood. When observed, the sand ripples as if alive, twisting and contorting in patterns that defy the laws of nature, while the blood within it flows like sluggish, congealing rivers of crimson, staining everything it touches. The stench that emanates from the Maw is overpowering—rotting meat mixed with an acidic, metallic tang that burns the back of the throat.

Behavior: The Maw doesn’t simply exist as a gateway. It hungers. It is constantly feeding on the life force of anything nearby, subtly draining vitality from the very air, causing the land around it to rot and decay. Trees near the Maw twist and wither, their bark cracking open to reveal black, bleeding wood. The further one ventures into the Maw’s influence, the worse the decay becomes. Living things that venture too close find themselves disoriented, their minds clouded with intrusive thoughts—whispers that seem to gnaw at their sanity. The portal calls to people, especially those already burdened by emotional or psychological trauma, offering dark promises of power, of knowledge beyond comprehension, or simply an end to suffering.

The Maw-Touched (The Children) -- WARNING FREAKY IMAGE BELOW --

Classification: Reanimated Abomination, Corpse Puppet, "Hollow Spawn"

Description: The Maw-Touched children—those poor souls Jacob encountered deep in the heart of the forest—are what happens when the Maw begins to manifest its hunger in the physical world. Once human, these children were claimed by the Maw’s influence and remade into something twisted and grotesque. Their appearance is a mockery of their former selves: their skin is stretched tight over their skeletal frames, pale and waxy, as though they were half-mummified. The once-soft flesh of their bellies is split wide open from neck to groin, revealing their insides—viscera that should no longer be functional, yet still glisten with wet, fresh blood.

What remains of their internal organs is arranged grotesquely outside their bodies, spread around like a horrific offering. Their intestines coil outward like writhing snakes, their hearts still beating faintly despite the gaping wounds. The children's limbs are broken and twisted, bending at impossible angles, as if their very bones were shattered and hastily reassembled in the wrong positions.

Their faces are perhaps the most horrifying part. The mouths have been grotesquely stretched wide, far wider than humanly possible, their lips split and torn at the edges, revealing rows of jagged, broken teeth. Their eyes have been gouged out, leaving behind hollow, black pits that seem to radiate an eerie, unnatural darkness.

Behaviour: Though they appear slow and sluggish at first, the Maw-Touched children are far more dangerous than they initially seem. Their movements are erratic—sharp, jerky bursts of speed that defy the laws of physics. They crawl, drag, and twitch their way toward their prey, driven not by any human desire but by the insatiable hunger of the Maw itself, which now controls their every move.

Their bodies make a grotesque, wet cracking sound with every step, and they leave a trail of blood and rotting flesh wherever they go. The children are no longer bound by the limits of their ruined, mutilated bodies. They are puppets of the Maw, driven solely by its hunger for fear and flesh.

Though they are incapable of speech, the Maw-Touched children emit low, guttural moans—sounds that seem to come not from their throats but from somewhere deep inside the wounds that gape open across their bodies. These moans are mixed with the sickening sound of their insides shifting and squelching with every movement, and the faint whisper of skin dragging across dirt and stone.

The Maw-Touched are drawn to living things, particularly those who are vulnerable—both physically and mentally. They seek to latch onto their prey, sinking their sharp, broken teeth into flesh, tearing at muscle and sinew with animalistic ferocity. But it’s not just the flesh they crave. The Maw feeds on fear, and the children seem to revel in the terror they inspire, dragging out the kill for as long as possible, savouring every scream, every shudder of horror.

Origins: The children Jacob encountered were victims of the Maw, lured into its influence and warped into something monstrous. It is believed that the Maw requires sacrifice to maintain its presence in the physical world, and these children were chosen for that very purpose. The symbols carved into their flesh and the earth around them were not just markings—they were rituals, designed to bind their souls to the Maw, allowing it to take control of their bodies and use them as its twisted servants.

I hope you enjoyed this particularly spooky episode and I'm keen to hear your thoughts - I'll put a public post up on the PATREON home page for you to cast your votes on Jacob's demise....

Thanks for the love legends!! 

Today, I’m super excited to share a brand-new story, Samuel Gray: Paranormal Investigator—a chilling, noir-inspired tale that delves deep into the mysterious world of the supernatural. Set against the eerie backdrop of Blackwood Manor, this story follows the journey of Samuel Gray, a seasoned investigator with a keen eye and a haunted past, and bloodline. Samuel is drawn to Blackwood Manor by whispers of disturbing legends and tales of the unknown, a place that has consumed all who dared to explore it...unsure if he will fare any different.

Armed with his tools, grit, and a new piece of tech to decode the arcane, Samuel steps into the shadows of the mansion, knowing he may unearth horrors far beyond what any ghost hunter has encountered before.

As he navigates the manor’s dark halls and hidden rooms, Samuel encounters chilling secrets and entities that defy logic and sanity. Each step forward unearths layers of dread, with the house itself seeming to come alive, twisting around him like a predator with its prey. And as he delves deeper, Samuel finds himself unlocking doors that were perhaps best left closed...

This is my own tiny step in creating a funky journal entry style story that is steeped in suspense, atmosphere, and horror with a noir twist—perfect for fans of classic ghost stories and supernatural thrillers. Join me on this journey into Blackwood Manor as we follow Samuel through each revelation, each terrifying encounter, and each shadowed room that holds the secrets of the past.

Prepare to feel the chill! 🌫️ Thank you so much for your support you AMAZZZING legends, and as always, let me know what you think of Samuel’s haunting journey!

In the depths of Blackwood Manor, where the boundaries between worlds stretched thin, Samuel Gray encountered creatures unlike any in recorded lore. Each being seemed an embodiment of a primal nightmare, scarred by centuries of pain, as if cursed to relive its suffering for eternity. They moved with unnatural grace and tortured purpose, frozen in their torment yet alive in some grotesque, hollow way. Here, in the flickering green firelight of the abyss, they writhed and twisted, haunting memories of horrors long forgotten.

The Hollow-Faced Watcher

This creature was the first to rise from the chasm, and its image haunted Samuel long after he escaped the manor. Its face—or what remained of it—was a grotesque mask of agony, lips stretched back to reveal teeth that were jagged and broken, jutting outward like shards of glass. It had no eyes, only dark, hollow pits that seemed to pull in light, absorbing it into a void that defied depth or meaning. Its expression was frozen in a silent scream, mouth agape as if forever gasping for release that would never come. The skin around its mouth was scorched and raw, as though it had been ripped open repeatedly, only to heal and tear again with each tormented scream.

Its hands were clawed and skeletal, thin as twigs, with long, bony fingers that seemed to tremble with an insatiable hunger as they reached out. Every movement it made was slow, deliberate, yet filled with an eerie desperation, as though it were doomed to forever search for something it would never find. Its body was blackened, charred in places, with skin hanging loose and oozing a sickly, dark substance. It moved like a marionette, limbs jerking as if pulled by unseen strings, its head lolling from side to side, surveying Samuel with that eyeless, soul-devouring gaze.

The Crawlers of the Pit

These creatures emerged in clusters, pulling themselves out of the abyss on twisted limbs that bent in ways that defied natural anatomy. They crawled along the floor, dragging themselves with misshapen arms that were covered in blisters and open sores, their nails cracked and splintered from scratching at the stone walls of their prison. Their spines jutted out in uneven ridges, sharp and exposed, as though they had clawed their way up through the earth itself, breaking bones and tearing flesh in the process.

Their faces were barely human, with features melted and distorted, the skin sagging over bone in drooping folds. Some had remnants of what might have once been eyes, now reduced to milky orbs hanging from the sockets, swinging loosely with each shuddering movement. Their mouths were filled with rows of small, sharp teeth, jagged and broken, their lips peeled back as if melted into permanent snarls. They moved with a guttural, animalistic determination, snapping at each other as they advanced, drooling thick, dark saliva that hissed as it hit the ground. They hissed and groaned in a language Samuel couldn’t understand, a blend of guttural sounds and whispered chants that clawed at his mind, filling him with a nauseating dread.

The Winged Husk

This creature was unlike the others, its form tall and skeletal, with long, bony wings that hung limply from its back, torn and tattered like the remnants of a once-majestic creature now reduced to a hollow shell. Its wings were covered in a thin, almost translucent skin stretched over bone, patches of which had been torn away to reveal jagged edges and gaping holes. It had a face elongated beyond human proportions, a skull-like visage that grinned with an impossibly wide mouth, lined with thin, needle-like teeth that dripped with a dark, viscous fluid.

Its body was a mess of exposed ribs and twisted sinew, its chest caved in, leaving only a hollow cavity where a heart should have been. Its torso was covered in thin, shredded skin that had dried and cracked, clinging to the bone like ancient parchment. The creature’s legs were long and crooked, ending in clawed feet that clicked against the ground, leaving scorched impressions with each step. As it moved, it emitted a sound like dry paper tearing, a low, rattling breath that echoed through the room, each exhalation laden with centuries of torment.

The winged husk’s eyes glowed faintly, two pinpoints of dim green light that followed Samuel, penetrating him with a gaze that felt as if it could peel back his flesh and see his soul laid bare. It moved with a twisted elegance, lifting its head to peer down at him, spreading its wings in an almost mocking attempt at flight, as though reminding Samuel of its inability to escape. It radiated a bitter, choking cold, as though all the warmth in the room had been stolen by its mere presence.

The Fleshbound Twins

These two were bound together, fused at the torso, their shared skin a mess of stitches, welts, and open wounds, as if they had been sewn together in some grotesque experiment. Their faces were misshapen, twisted versions of each other, one with a mouth stretched impossibly wide in an eternal grin, the other with lips sewn shut, eyes bulging with a quiet, restrained terror. The twin with the open mouth constantly whispered, a continuous string of garbled nonsense, a haunting lullaby that rose and fell with each staggered step. The other twin’s eyes darted about, pleading, as if silently begging for release.

Their four arms moved in chaotic tandem, two reaching out to grasp at anything nearby while the other two clutched at their own flesh, digging nails into their shared skin as though trying to tear themselves apart. They wore tattered remnants of clothing, the fabric burnt and shredded, barely covering the fused mess of flesh where their torsos merged. Their legs, awkward and mismatched, moved in lurching steps, each leg dragging the other as if they were bound by chains.

As they neared Samuel, the twin with the sewn mouth let out a strangled gasp, a wheezing sound that broke through the stitching, tearing the skin further apart. Dark, thick blood oozed from the split seam, staining their chests as they advanced, stumbling over each other. Their whispers were maddening, a chant of broken syllables that clawed at the edges of Samuel’s sanity, filling him with a creeping dread that he could not shake.

The Burning Wraith

This figure was engulfed in flames, yet it did not burn or consume itself. Its skin was blackened, charred to a crisp, and cracks spiderwebbed across its body, glowing with an intense orange heat as if it contained molten lava beneath the surface. Its face was barely distinguishable, a mask of burned flesh that melted and reformed in constant agony, every second a rebirth into new waves of pain. Its eyes were pits of smouldering ash, void of any humanity, yet full of a raw, burning fury that seemed to radiate from its core.

The wraith’s limbs were stretched unnaturally long, its fingers curling and uncurling with flames that licked at the air, leaving trails of sparks in its wake. Its feet, blistered and raw, left scorched footprints wherever it stepped, each mark smouldering, as though it left pieces of itself behind. Its entire body pulsed with the rhythm of a dying heart, a heavy, labouring beat that seemed to resonate through the room, each pulse drawing the air into its flames, consuming all warmth in a hunger that could never be satisfied.

As it moved, the air filled with the acrid stench of burnt flesh and sulfur, a miasma that clawed at Samuel’s throat and stung his eyes. It opened its mouth to speak, and an unholy screech filled the room, a sound that seemed to burn its way into his mind, scalding his thoughts with the unbearable weight of endless torment. The wraith advanced slowly, deliberately, its flames licking out to scorch the walls, reducing the wood to ash in seconds. Every movement radiated suffering, a searing agony that refused to end, an eternity of burning that had left nothing human behind.

The Shadowed Legion - Extra Detailed Snippet (Mini Tale)💎

In the end, Samuel encountered a multitude of forms—amorphous, shifting shapes that seemed to blend into one another, each a shadow born of despair and rage. They were less corporeal than the others, their bodies woven of darkness itself, writhing and twisting, never settling into a solid form. Eyes would appear, piercing red orbs that glared from within the shadows, only to dissolve back into the darkness as quickly as they had come. Faces formed and faded, mouths silently screaming, their expressions melting from sorrow to rage in an endless, torturous cycle.

These shadows moved with a fluidity that defied reason, pouring over the ground like smoke, pooling in corners and spreading along the floor, only to rise up in distorted shapes that clawed at the air. They were the remnants of something once human, something that had given itself to the darkness, lost in its depths until it no longer remembered form or flesh. They seemed bound to each other, their shapes entwining and separating as though each were both distinct and one with the rest.

In their whispers, Samuel could hear fragments of lives lost, regrets and sorrows woven into an eternal song of despair. The legion advanced as one, a tide of shadows that filled the room, surrounding him, their empty eyes and twisted mouths closing in until there was nothing but darkness. The feeling of them, of countless souls forever trapped, each lost in its own agony, filled him with a suffocating horror that he could never fully escape. They were the final embodiment of the house, they were Blackwood Manor itself, a chorus of unending despair and malice, the essence of every soul the house had claimed over the centuries. Each shadow, each twisted face within the legion, carried the weight of memories lost, hopes shattered, and lives stolen by forces beyond their control. Their whispers became a relentless, inescapable song in Samuel’s mind, filling his thoughts with fragments of forgotten lives and words spoken in languages that no human tongue should utter.

As the shadows closed in, Samuel felt the temperature around him plummet, a cold so intense it seared his skin with a paradoxical heat, as though frost had bitten down to his bones. The sensation was unbearable; it was as if the very marrow of his skeleton was being drawn from him, consumed by the legion as they press...

In the Dragnet episode titled "The Jewellery Theft," Sergeant Joe Friday and Officer Frank Smith investigate a high-stakes robbery at a downtown jewellery store. The case begins when the store owner reports that a significant amount of expensive jewellery has been stolen, with no clear signs of forced entry. Friday and Smith interview store employees, customers, and nearby witnesses, slowly piecing together a complex puzzle.

As the investigation unfolds, they discover a web of insider connections, leading them to suspect that the crime was an inside job. Tensions rise as they work against the clock to catch the culprits before the stolen goods can be sold on the black market. The episode highlights the meticulous, methodical approach that Friday and Smith use to follow leads and build their case, ultimately leading to a dramatic conclusion where the thieves are caught just before making their getaway.

Major Trivia for this episode 💎💎💎

Dragnet's episode titled "Police Academy" follows Sergeant Joe Friday and Officer Bill Gannon as they visit a police training facility. They’re tasked with addressing an array of new recruits on the realities of law enforcement, bringing their no-nonsense approach to the classroom. Throughout the episode, the recruits face intense physical training, classroom instruction, and simulated crime scenarios, while Friday and Gannon share stories from their years on the force.

The episode highlights the tension between idealism and the tough realities of police work. However, things take a turn when an unexpected incident during a training exercise puts everything they've been teaching to the test. Will the recruits measure up? And what lessons will they learn from their first real challenge?

Dragnet is, more and more, becoming my favourite of my Old Time Radio Episodes!

Also, I cannot imagine being in the LAPD back then - it's so dangerous now, let alone back then without easy communications, and a lack of backup!!!!!

Hope you loved today's episode legends!!! 👮‍♀️👮‍♂️👮Still in Japan but didn't want to leave you hanging!!! Much love mates!! 😍😍😍