Ep 10 - In The Snow

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Welcome to Ghost Wax, a Far and Tall Tales production. The following story may contain graphic content. Listener discretion is advised. Episode 10, In the Snow.

Luca. Luca, wake up. We have to go. What? Where are we? Not where we need to be. They who watch the door have contacted me. They did? The usual way, with a carefully sculpted and very upsetting dream. There's been a breach. There has? Don't be alarmed, it's small. East Coast. We have to go now, and I'm afraid it has to be via the special transportation. Oh, seriously? Yes, conventional transportation is delayed. There's a blizzard. A bad one.

The area is clear. Silvers have given us the go-ahead. Whatever it was, it's gone. Well, let's take a look then, shall we? Are you okay? Apologies. The cold doesn't agree with me. Door looks frozen shut. It is. With blood, it appears. Crowbar. Yeah, I'll get it. My word. Oh no. What a mess. Appears to be three victims. Can you get testimony from what's here? Not much to work with.

i have been wondering considering what the wax of these cylinders is made of i'm going to try something see if i can draw the story right on to the wax Considering the blustery conditions and the state of the victim, I imagine it will provide a much cleaner recording.

Working better than expected. Now, your name is Andrew Darnell, is that correct? Good. Tell me how you came to be as you are now. I drew the short straw and so was designated as sober cab. But you know how it is at these holiday office parties. The combination is just too much. People you are sick of seeing, a place you are sick of being, and a big blood-red punch bowl singing her siren song. The punch packed a wallop.

Made me suspicious three or four of my co-workers might just be spiking the punch with the shiny silver flasks they thought they were so clever being sneaky hiding. Is there a word for that? A term, you know, a bunch of people all contributing to something thinking that they're the only one doing it, but actually a bunch of other people are already doing the same thing and it just ruins it? It seems like something the French, or the Japanese, would have a succinct term for.

I drank just enough to make the whole affair tolerable. The shitty decorations made the office look like a corpse gussied up for its viewing. A few years before I had gone to my aunt's funeral, the woman was the biggest. feminist hippie I ever knew. Au naturel. That's a French saying. My aunt didn't wear deodorant, let alone makeup, but they had her painted like a French clown at the viewing. So...

This is what the office looked like. Cold, gray, ugly, dead, but with some cheap, ill-fitting presentation shining dully as the worst possible music plays. Apparently, the fact that I wasn't having a good time was... writ large on my face because Margie, the office mom, that's how she introduced herself to me. I'm Margie and I'll be your mom now. Sidled up to me.

You look like the cat that ate the canary, she said, ribbing me with her elbow. You think I look like I have a secret? I asked, trying not to roll my eyes. Oh, whoops. That's not what I meant. I meant, um... At this point, she sort of just glazed over. Margie wasn't too sharp sober, and from the pink saturation of her upper lip, she had been swimming in this punch bowl. She couldn't, for the life of her, come up with the phrase that she actually wanted.

I'm fine, Margie, I said, sparing her further loss of neurons. I'm just worried about the weather. I have to drive Crystal, Rod, and Beverly home later. and I motioned to the three of them drinking too much and laughing hysterically at something on the other side of the room. Crystal, Rod, and Beverly, the Three Musketeers. The voice was over my shoulder, but there was no mistaking it as Mr. Penderly, the very crusty old bastard who was the only reason I'd come to this thing.

He loved kitschy shit, you know, puns, wordplay, and passing me over for promotions. I tried to think of something funny to say, something to make him laugh, you know, to start a conversation. But instead... Beverly puked. A thin, red cascade burst out of her mouth mid-laugh, giving it a lot of things to spray off of. Mr. Penderly and I just stared, then turned towards each other and made...

eye contact. I couldn't think of anything to say in that moment and then he frowned awkwardly and the silence was only a moment but it was ghastly. Guess it's time to take them home, he said, and then turned away. I just shuffled over them to help as Beverly apologized to no one in particular. So...

One incredibly specific French phrase that I do know is the spirit of the staircase. L'espérie d'escalier. It describes that moment when you are leaving and you think of the perfect thing to say, but it's just... Too late. Suddenly, the absolute silver bullet phrase, retort, comeback that will leave everyone talking about what a champion you are for months, leaps out from the soup of your brain, but you're already on the stairs outside. Probably...

Walking away in shame. I like the idea that this feeling, this phrase, this thing is a ghost. Because, you know, it feels like one. The perfect thing, though, hit me as I packed... The three drunks covered in spit-up punch into my silver sedan. Mr. Penderly calls them the three musketeers. Beverly barfs and I look at him and I go, I guess that makes me darn Tagnan.

Okay, yeah, it's fucking stupid. But if you knew Mr. Penderly, if you knew Mr. Penderly, I would have been his new favorite person. Anyway.

I thought about how unjust and disgusting it was that I was trying to impress my boss with stupid fucking puns and jokes rather than being actually good at my job that I was barely paying attention when we got on the road. My headlights were catching on the rapidly accumulating flurries already beginning to fall when Crystal says something about the storm being really early, breaking the silence. And then, once it was broken, god damn, it was really broken.

Jesus Christ, Bev, Rob said, exasperated. Beverly, who had been sulking, had prepared a defense, which she sprang immediately. I have acid reflux. Fucking reflux? Bev, get help. That isn't funny. My grandpa was an alcoholic. Everyone's grandpa was an alcoholic. You are an alcoholic. You aren't supposed to just throw that word around.

You aren't supposed to throw punch and puke around. The three of them were suddenly a wall of sound from my side and back, arguing and I thought about just jerking the wheel and sending the car down an embankment. I let myself enjoy that thought. But just only for a moment, because a few moments later, the flakes turned from flurries into heavy, full snow. I can't even remember seeing snow pick up so quickly like this before.

Shit, you guys, this is really coming down. I said loudly to, you know, shut him up. Crystal was on her phone. The weather service still says the storm isn't supposed to be here until after midnight, like one o'clock even. Rod, who is a surly drunk. What the hell are we looking at, Crystal? Light? It's all the coke you snorted at the party. Beverly was looking queasy again.

My house is closest, Crystal offered. We can stop there and then you guys can stay over if you have to. I hated that idea, but we didn't have much choice. I'd slowed down to... Less than 30 and still didn't feel totally safe. We took the exit really slowly. The snow was sticky, which actually is the prettiest snow. It was highlighting every tree branch and laying a thick white frosting over the hills.

As my headlights hit them, they glowed. The density of the snow let up a bit, but I was still nervous. Visibility sucked, but not so much that when the headlights caught on the red, it didn't make us all jump. I slammed on my brakes. Maybe stop is just the baked-in reaction to the color red. Maybe it was all I could think to do. Through the falling snow, we could see the road in front of us illuminated by a row of streetlights was just... Absolutely saturated in red. Some sort of red...

Liquid had been sprayed all over the snow in a huge area. It covered the entire road into the snowbanks. Space between the two nearest streetlights was filled, and to the next one, it was... unreal. Someone muttered, I think. It was just so jarring that it might have been a full minute before surly Rod made a joke. Looks like Beverly was here drinking punch earlier, he said. Oh, fuck.

Ah, she muttered. Crystal was cleaning her glasses, like some series of smudges on them could explain it. Is it a spill? Like, could it be a tanker truck spill, I said? But then where's the tanker? Crystal asked. She was right. There wasn't a single other car in sight anywhere. I took stock of where we were. The street was residential, witty. but there were houses a ways further up. There wasn't a single car parked on the street further up, even outside of the houses. It's blood, Beverly said.

I couldn't tell if she was joking, and I did not have time to ask. I'm going to be sick, she said. She opened the door and stepped out, lurching over to release more punch and some hors d'oeuvres.

Everything that happened next seemed broken into separate, single moments. First... There was a blast of cold through the car. Then something in the snow moved, sending an explosion of glittering white crystals up all around Beverly. She screamed, but the scream was cut off by a sickening rip. blood and punch and snow splattered the side of my car a good amount sprang in through the open door all over rod who screamed and slammed the door shut just before a big chunk

of Beverly smashed into the window cracking it. We all screamed and yelled and I slammed on the gas but nothing happened. i heard a screech from the tires my tire pressure warning light went red and the car squealed but didn't move an inch smoke curled up around the sides of the car until something snapped and the wheels wouldn't turn anymore, and pressing on the gas just made a horrible, whirring sound in the engine.

Rod was screaming that there was something in the snow, Crystal was screaming at me to drive, and I was screaming back that I was trying, but we were stuck on something. When we finally quit hollering, I let my foot up on the pedal, and everything went quiet. The only sounds had been us. In fact, the snow slowly falling outside was insulating any sounds that might have been bouncing around. The only noise...

was the rumble of the engine and the squeak of the windshield wipers. I tried to keep it together. I was in the driver's seat and I was supposed to be sober, so I was in charge. It was a dumb thought, but it's what I had to work with. I asked Rod what he meant when he said something was in the snow. What do you mean, Rod? I pressed further when he didn't answer.

Do you mean an animal, a person, a fucking chainsaw? Because judging from what happened to Beverly, there's a big ass fucking chainsaw in the snow. Don't yell at me, he whimpered. I don't know. it something just burst up from under her and and and what rod and her fucking arms flew off i don't fucking know I tried to calm down and explain that we had gotten hung up in the snow. I didn't tell them that I imagined whatever was hiding in there had wrecked our car on purpose. Whatever it is...

I told them, trying to sound like I knew what I was talking about. It is leaving us alone while we're in the car, so we just need to stay calm. call for help, and between a police officer to shoot whatever the fucking rabid animal is lurking out there and a tow truck to get us out of here, we should be okay. So, we call the police. said that our friend had been attacked and told them our location. Crystal did a good job of staying calm, not sounding drunk and insane.

She only told them what we needed to get them to us, that something had killed our friend. We didn't know if it was an animal or a person, but something had us pinned down in our car. They said officers were on the way to hold tight, that the snow would slow them down a bit, but that they would be there. She said she would stay on the line with us. half hour later, the woman on the phone said something that upset Crystal. What do you mean? We are right.

There. Yes, that is exactly where we are. It's a silver sedan. It's the only car on the street. No, this is not a prank. Yes, that is the address. Can't you just find us with a GPS? My stomach dropped. I looked all around, and all I could see was streetlights, distant houses, and blood-covered snow slowly turning over white as fresh... Fluffy crystals fell over it. No swirling red and blue lights. No police car. Nothing. Hello?

Crystal's voice was frantic. Hello? Hello? Hello? Did she fucking hang up on me? Maybe they were having trouble finding us. Thought we were lying. Thought it was a trick. Maybe it was... Disconnection. Could have something to do with the bad weather. I was scrambling to come up with any sort of explanation to explain our abandonment. We never connected anyone. On the phone again. Just ring. And ring. And ring. And ring. And ring. And ring. An hour went by.

We were constantly wiping the fog off of the inside of the windows. Something was wrong with the car, and I realized that I was getting lightheaded. Okay. I think the car is backed up with CO2 or something. I said, I'm going to turn the car off for a little bit. If we just huddle up. We can stay warm because it's going to get cold without the heat. Neither of them said anything back. An hour later and it was so...

An hour after that, we started making guesses about what was happening. And an hour after that, the guesses got pretty wild. The last one. was an alien attack before Rod just broke the whole thing off. I have to pee. Crystal pushed her fingers into her eyes. We all have to pee, Rod. Well? We took turns doing our best to piss in my Nalgene bottle with mixed results. It had been a long time now.

We were getting cold, very cold, but Beverly's blood was frozen all over the passenger side of the car and that kept us from thinking too hard about venturing out. It was almost four in the morning when Crystal complained about being thirsty. So we dug around for some liquid and we found an energy drink, which seemed like it would be counterproductive to that.

Quite a bit of snow had piled up on the car, and I saw Crystal notice that fact. She shrugged and picked up the thermos. Oh god, you aren't that thirsty yet, are you? Rod said in horror. Get it together, she snapped back. I'm going to just open the door a little way and pour it out, and then I'm going to rinse it with the snow, and then I'm going to fill it with more snow and bring it back in here to melt it so that we can drink fresh water. Rod grimaced.

Still, there's like trace piss in there. Crystal rolled her eyes and readied herself. I didn't know if this was a good idea. But I was getting thirsty myself. And I don't know, I didn't want to let out what heat we had left in the car. But honestly, there wasn't much left. And we needed water. And whatever was in the snow, I couldn't just be waiting there.

For the right moment. Crystal should be quick, right? She opened the door. Just a crack, poured out the piss, and then took a big scoop of snow. She reached out with as little of herself as possible. She swished the snow around a bit in the thermos to clean it. She seemed to lose her nerve as the moments went by. The cold was slowly creeping in and our eyes were flicking around desperately trying to find unobscured angles to look out for whatever killer was in the snow. Crystal poured it out.

Took another scoop of snow and then quickly shut the door with a sigh of relief. We all sighed in relief. I don't think it's still out there, Rod said hopefully. Let's wait a bit longer, and then we can think about how to find that out for sure. I said. Crystal cradled the bottle in her hands and inside her jacket to warm it up. It didn't take long. She took a big drink of the snow water and handed it to me. I drank it down, thankfully, struggling to leave any for Rod. The water...

It tasted funny. I lifted the bottle up to look at the water through the partially opaque plastic. Rod grimaced, but grabbed the bottle to drink.

If the spirit of the staircase is realizing what you should have said only as you're leaving, you know, a party or whatever, there should be something, a saying for realizing something crucial. Only a moment after it's too late. The moment when you jump out of a plane and realize that you have forgotten your parachute. The moment when you realize that you should have just laid flat on your stomach to cross the ice as it is breaking under your feet.

When you realize that there isn't something deadly and murderous in the snow, but that it is the snow. Crystal was already convulsing and clawing at her neck. The sharp, wiggly little shapes I'd seen in the water were carving their way through her insides. A few moments later, I felt the needles start to move. Inside of me, too, Rod was screaming like a banshee in the backseat. I swallowed again and again, trying to fight the hot...

biting pain down, telling myself what I knew was happening wasn't happening. Crystal sliced open from the inside. I tried to get out and flee the car to let the snow tear me apart all at once like stupid Beverly to die fast rather than the agonizing grotesquerie that I had just seen. I grabbed at the door handle. I clicked it open, I pushed at the door, and I found... It was frozen shut. That moment when you realize that you are absolutely...

and totally fucked. Is there a phrase for that? I release you. Go to the rest you can find.

What a mess indeed. What? What did he say? I couldn't hear any of that. The story went directly to the wax. This device is proving very helpful. As to the matter at hand... The danger has passed, but tell the Silvers that we will need to clean up the whole area. There is a huge saturation of human blood in this snow. Likely, they will find the skeletal remains of more than a few people beneath us. At least a few cars. Holy shit, it took apart cars? Wait, what about this car?

Why didn't it destroy this one to get to them? I believe the entity in question was weakening rapidly upon its arrival in our sphere. At first, it was strong enough to take apart cars to get at the... What, the blood? Maybe their heat? At any rate, by the time poor Andrew arrived on the scene with his, um, associates or friends here, it was only strong enough to destroy their tires.

kill the woman who left the car's metal shell, and then wait for an opportunity, which unfortunately it got. How? They drank it. What? I'll explain, but, um... Let's do it somewhere warm. Thank you for listening to Ghost Wax, a production of Far and Tall Tales. Find us at farandtalltales.squarespace.com. Ghost Wax is an independent podcast, so if you liked the show,

Please rate and review, and consider joining us on Patreon at patreon.com slash farandtalltales. Also give a listen to our fantasy roleplay show, Could Have Been Heroes, for something completely different. Ghost Wax is written and directed by Robert Knudsen. Production and editing by Aaron Schoenrock. Our theme song is by Bo Hoover. This episode features Robert Knudsen as Von Sid, Aaron Schoenrock as Luca, and Jordan Gwiazdowski as Andrew Darnell.