October 31, 2014 • 34 mins
Get ready to be creeped out and join Chuck and Josh as they read you with two spooky classic horror stories, The Striding Place and The Pale Man in this special bonus Halloween episode.
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Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:01):
Welcome to you stuff you should know from HowStuffWorks dot com.
Speaker 2 (00:11):
Hello everyone, Happy Halloween. That was Chuck there.
Speaker 1 (00:16):
Not the wind, no, but it's it as windy outside
as you can tell, and rainy, and it's like kind
of spooky.
Speaker 2 (00:22):
Yes, but fortunately, Chuck, we have a nice fire going
here in our study.
Speaker 3 (00:26):
It is very nice in here.
Speaker 2 (00:27):
We're both wearing our best smoking jacket.
Speaker 1 (00:29):
Yep, felt like the oak would work. You've done it
with the place. It's very nice. I feel very comfortable
and it feels like a room to read scary things in.
Speaker 2 (00:39):
Well, that's precisely what we're about to do, Chuck.
Speaker 1 (00:42):
Then we waited for a stormy night too, which I
think we've been waiting for like two weeks.
Speaker 3 (00:45):
Has been really lovely weather.
Speaker 2 (00:46):
Yeah. The timing could not be better.
Speaker 3 (00:48):
It's perfect.
Speaker 1 (00:49):
And I don't have to tell everyone this, but you
all know it's midnight.
Speaker 3 (00:53):
Oh, yes, so we if you hear the clock strike,
it is, Oh, there it goes. We're a little late.
I thought I wanted to start reading right at midnight,
but it's okay.
Speaker 2 (01:03):
We're still within the witching hour okay, which I don't
think is necessarily midnight, but it's still scary.
Speaker 1 (01:09):
Yeah, well, now we have to wait for this thing
to ding twelve times a noo. So are we gonna
do the one by Gertrude Atherton first?
Speaker 2 (01:21):
I think we should. This is originally published by Old Gertrude, Yeah,
as The Twins Old Gertrude. Yeah, they called her, you
kind of have to.
Speaker 3 (01:31):
She was nineteen when she wrote that, right, what her name.
Speaker 2 (01:34):
Is Gertrude, so everybody called her Old Gert.
Speaker 3 (01:36):
Yeah.
Speaker 2 (01:37):
She published a thing called The Twins. That was the
original name of this story, and I guess it didn't
take off because about ten years later she renamed it
The Striding Place.
Speaker 3 (01:47):
I like the Twins?
Speaker 2 (01:48):
Do you sure? I did too, until I found out
that there is such a thing as an actual striding Place. Yeah.
It's a real part in a real river in real life. Yeah,
the War River right in Yorkshire.
Speaker 1 (02:01):
Yeah, this is uh, the waterfall kind of takes center
stage here at the end of the story.
Speaker 2 (02:06):
Yeah, it's like boilet, it's a it's a we won't
but I just want to explain because I did a
little extra research, even on the Halloween story episode. Yeah,
this river comes to a point where it's about as
wide as a large stride. So apparently it beckons people
just go ahead and jump. No reason to go walk
to the bridge above or the bridge below, just jump over. Yeah,
(02:27):
but it's also a very treacherous spot in the river.
So Chuck, you want to start reading this one or
do you want me to? It's up to you. I
say we trade off because we have two stories this year.
We didn't we didn't tell everybody yet. Oh yeah, we're
doing two stories this year. Yeah, these are great.
Speaker 3 (02:42):
They were a little.
Speaker 1 (02:42):
Shorter, so we thought we'd double it up. I've had
a little kangnac. I think I feel primed and ready
to go.
Speaker 2 (02:48):
We've had a lot of kangyac.
Speaker 3 (02:50):
That's right, all right, So shall we set go in here?
Has everyone dim the lights at home?
Speaker 2 (02:58):
Yes?
Speaker 3 (02:59):
If you're like I'm subway or something, then you.
Speaker 2 (03:01):
Should close your eyes safe.
Speaker 3 (03:03):
That's for another time.
Speaker 2 (03:04):
Close your eyes very tightly.
Speaker 3 (03:05):
Okay.
Speaker 1 (03:06):
The Striding Place by Gertrude Atherton. Weagle continental and detached,
tired of early grouse shooting, to stand propped against the
side fence while his host workmen routed up the birds
and long poles and drove them towards the waiting guns
made him feel himself a parody on the ancestors who
(03:27):
had roamed the moors and forests of this west, riding
of Yorkshire, and hot pursuit of game worth the killing.
But when in England and August, he always accepted whatever
proffered for the season, and invited his host to shoot
pheasants on his estates in the south. The amusements of life,
he argued, should be accepted with the same philosophy as
its ills.
Speaker 3 (03:46):
It had been a bad day.
Speaker 1 (03:48):
A heavy rain had made them more so spongy that
it fairly sprang beneath the feet.
Speaker 3 (03:52):
Whether or not the.
Speaker 1 (03:52):
Grouse had haunts of their own, wherein they were immune
from rheumatism, the bag had been small. The women, too,
were an unusual dull lot, the exception of a new
minded debutante who bothered Weagle at dinner by demanding the
verbal restoration of the vague paintings on the vaulted roof
above them. But it was no one of these things
that sat on Miagal's mind, as when the other men
(04:13):
went up to bed, he let himself out of the
castle and sauntered down to the river. His intimate friend,
the companion of his boyhood, the chum of his college days,
his fellow traveler in many Lands, the man for whom
he possessed stronger affection than for all men, had mysteriously
disappeared two days ago, and his track might have sprung
to the upper air for all trace he had left
(04:35):
behind him. He had been a guest on the adjoining
estate during the past week, shooting with fervor of the
true sportsman, making love in the intervals to Adeline Cavan,
and apparently in the best of spirits. As far as
was known, there was nothing to lower his mental mercury,
for his rent roll was a large one. Miss Cavan
blushed whenever he looked at her, and being one of
(04:57):
the best shots in England, he was never happier than
in August. The suicide theory was preposterous, all agreed, and
there was this little reason to believe him murdered. Nevertheless,
he had walked out of the march Abbey two nights
ago without hat or overcoat, and had not been seen
since the country was being patrolled night and day. One
hundred keepers and workmen were beating the woods and poking
(05:17):
the bogs on the moors, but as yet not so
much as a handkerchief had been found. So this guy's
best buddy is missing.
Speaker 2 (05:26):
Yeah, and it's really kind of weighing on his mind.
Speaker 1 (05:28):
It's bestie and he's he's hunting grouse and he's bored
out of his mind.
Speaker 2 (05:32):
Yeah. It sounds like, yeah, well his mind is elsewhere.
Speaker 3 (05:35):
Well, lady Geez going on and on about the painting,
the debute hunt. Yeah, do you blame him?
Speaker 2 (05:41):
Yeah? Okay, you're ready for more. Yeah. Weigel did not
believe for a moment that Wyatt Gifford was dead, and
although it was impossible not to be affected by the
general uneasiness, he was disposed to be more angry than frightened.
At Cambridge, Gifford had been an incorrigible, practical joker, and
by no means had outgrown the habit. It would be
(06:04):
like him to cut across the country in his evening clothes,
boreed a cattle train and amuse himself touching up the
picture of the sensation and west riding. However, Weagle's affection
for his friend was too deep to companion with tranquility
in the present state of doubt, and instead of going
to bed early with the other men, he determined to
walk until ready for sleep. He went down to the
(06:27):
river and followed the path through the woods. There was
no moon, but the stars sprinkled their cold light upon
the pretty belt of water flowing placidly past wood in
ruin between green masses of overhanging rocks, where sloping banks
tangled with tree and shrub leaping occasionally over stones with
the harsh notes of an angry scold to recover its equanimity.
(06:47):
The moment the way was clear again, it was very
dark in the depths where Weagle trod. He smiled as
he recalled a remark of Gifford's in English.
Speaker 4 (06:56):
Wood is like a good many other things in life,
very promising a distance, but a hollow mockery. When you
get within, you see daylight on both sides, and the
sun freckles the very bracken. Our woods need the light
to make them seem what they ought to be, what
they once were before our ancestors descendants demanded so much
more money in these so much more various days.
Speaker 2 (07:17):
Weigel strolled along, smoking and thinking of his friend, his pranks,
many of which had done more credit to his imagination
than this, and recalling conversations that had lasted the night through,
just before the end of the London season, they had
walked the streets one hot night after a party discussing
the various theories of the soul's destiny. That afternoon they
(07:38):
had met at the coffin of a college friend whose
mind had been blank for the past three years. Some
months previously they had called at the asylum to see him.
His expression had been senile, his face imprinted with the
record of debauchery. In death. The face was placid, intelligent,
without ignoble a lineation the face of the man they
(07:58):
had known at college. Weigel and Gifford had had no
time to comment there, and the afternoon and evening were full,
But coming forth from the House of Festivity together they
had reverted almost at once to the topic I cherish
the theory.
Speaker 1 (08:13):
Gifford had said that the soul sometimes lingers in the
body after death during madness. Of course, it is an
impotent prisoner, albeit a conscious one. Fancy its agony and
its horror. What more natural than that, when the life's
spark goes out, the tortured souls should take possession of
the vacant skull and triumph once more. For a few hours,
(08:33):
while old friends look their last. It has had time
to repent, while compelled to crouch and behold the result
of its work, and it has shrived itself into a
state of comparative purity. If I had my way, I
should stay inside my bones until the coffin had gone
into its niche, that I might obviate for my poor comrade,
the tragic impersonality of death. And I should like to
(08:54):
see justice done to it as it were, to see
lowered among its ancestors, with the ceremony and solemnity that
are its do I'm afraid that if I dissevered myself
too quickly, I should yield to curiosity and hasten to
investigate the mysteries of space.
Speaker 5 (09:07):
You believe in the soul is an independent entity, then
that it and the vital principle are not one and
the same.
Speaker 2 (09:15):
Is that a lady, No, that's a legal that's legal.
Speaker 3 (09:21):
Absolutely. The body and soul are twins.
Speaker 1 (09:23):
Life comrades, sometimes friends, sometimes enemies, but always loyal. In
the last instance, Someday, when I am tired of the world,
I shall go to India and become a Mahatma, solely
for the pleasure of receiving proof during life of this
independent relationship.
Speaker 5 (09:38):
Suppose you are not sealed up properly and returned after
one of your astral flights to find your earthly part
unfit for habitation. It is an experiment. I don't think
I should care to try, unless even juggling with soul
and fleshead.
Speaker 1 (09:53):
Paul, that would not be an uninteresting predicament. I should
rather enjoy experimenting with broken machine. The high, wild roar
of water smoked suddenly upon Weagle's ear, and checked his memories.
He left the wood and walked out on the huge
slippery stones which nearly closed the river wharf at this point,
and watched the waters boil down into the narrow paths
(10:14):
with their furious, untiring energy. The black quiet of the
woods rose high on either side. The stars seemed colder
and whiter just above. On either hand, the perspective of
the river might have run into a rayless cavern. There
was no lonelier spot in England, nor one which had
the right to claim so many ghosts if ghosts there were,
(10:35):
all right, man, So he basically was like, I can't sleep,
I'm going to go look for my friend.
Speaker 2 (10:40):
Yeah, he's thinking a lot. He's thinking about his good
friend Wyatt Gifford.
Speaker 1 (10:44):
Yeah, he's thinking of walking along the river. He's thinking
about why God tortured him with that voice.
Speaker 2 (10:49):
Yeah, he didn't like his voice, but it's not he's.
Speaker 3 (10:52):
Not in the best of way right now. No, all right,
are you ready to continue, sir?
Speaker 2 (10:58):
I'm prepared? You ready?
Speaker 1 (10:59):
Yeah?
Speaker 2 (11:02):
Weigel was not a coward, but he recalled uncomfortably the
tales of those that had been done to death in
the strid. Wordsworth's boy of Egremond had been disposed of
by the practical Whittaker, but countless others, more venturesome than wise,
had gone down into that narrow, boiling course, never to
appear in the still pool a few yards beyond below
(11:24):
the great rocks which formed the walls of the strid,
was believed to be a natural vault, unto whose shelves
the dead were drawn. The spot had an ugly fascination.
Weigel stood, visioning skeletons, uncoffined and green, the home of
the eyeless things that had devoured all that had covered
and filled that rattling symbol of man's mortality. Then fell
(11:44):
to wondering if anyone had attempted to leap the strid
of late. It was covered with slime. He had never
seen it look so treacherous. He shuddered and turned away,
impelled despite his manhood to flee the spot. As he
did so, something tossing in the foam below the fall,
something as white yet independent of it, caught his eye
and arrested his step. Then he saw that it was
(12:07):
describing a contrary motion to the rushing water, an upward
backward motion. Weigel stood rigid, breathless. He fancied he heard
the crackling of his hair. Was that a hand? It
thrust itself higher above the boiling foam, turned sideways, and
four frantic fingers were distinctly visible against the black rock beyond.
(12:27):
Weegle's superstitious terror left him. A man was there, struggling
to free himself from the suction beneath the strid swept down,
doubtless but a moment before his arrival. Perhaps as he
stood with him back to the current. He stepped as
close to the edge as he dared. The hand doubled,
as if in eprocation, shaking savagely in the face that
force which leads its creatures to a mutable low, then
(12:49):
spread wide again clutching, expanding, crying for help as audibly
as the human voice. Weigle dashed to the nearest street,
dragged and twisted off a branch with his strong arms,
and returned as swiftly to the strip. The hand was
in the same place, still gesticulating as wildly. The body
was undoubtedly caught in the rocks below, perhaps already halfway
(13:10):
along one of those hideous shelves. Weegel let himself down
upon a lower rock, braced his shoulder against the mask
beside him, and then, leaning out over the water, thrust
the branch into the hand. The fingers clutched it convulsively.
Weegel tugged powerfully, his own feet dragged perilously near the edge.
For a moment he produced no impression. Then an arm
(13:31):
shot above the waters.
Speaker 3 (13:33):
The blood sprang to Eagle's head.
Speaker 1 (13:34):
He was choked with the impression that the striad had
him in a roaring hold, and he saw nothing. Then
the mist cleared, the hand and arm were nearer, although
the rest of the body was still concealed by the foam.
Eagle peered out with distended eyes. The meager light revealed
in the cuff SLINKs of a peculiar device. The fingers
clutching the branch were as familiar. Weagle forgot the slippery stones,
(13:57):
the terrible death if he stepped too far. He pulled
with pass will, and muscle muscles flung themselves into the
hot light of his brain, trooping rapidly upon each other's heels,
as if in the thought of the drowning. Most of
the pleasures of his life, good and bad, were identified
in some way with this friend. Scenes of college, days
of travel where they had deliberately sought adventure and stood
(14:18):
between one another and death upon more occasions than one.
Of hours of delightful companionship, among the treasures of art
and others in the pursuit of pleasure flashed like the
changing particles of a kaleidoscope. Weagle had loved several women,
but he would have flouted in these moments the thought
that he ever had loved any woman as he loved
Wyatt Gifford. There were so many charming women in the world,
(14:40):
and in the thirty two years of his life, he
had never known another man to whom he had cared
to give his intimate friendship.
Speaker 2 (14:49):
So, Chuck, it sounds like he's pretty certain this is Wyatt. Yeah,
his long lost buddy. He's in the foamy waterfall and
he's trying to save him. Yeah, so this is getting intent.
Speaker 1 (14:59):
It's getting super intense, and it sounds like he really
likes this guy in es, like he really wants to
save his friend.
Speaker 2 (15:04):
Sure.
Speaker 1 (15:07):
He threw himself on his face. His wrist were cracking,
the skin was torn from his hands. The fingers still
gripped the stick. There was life in them. Yet suddenly
something gave way. The hand swung about, tearing the branch
from Eagle's grasp. The body had been liberated and flung outward,
though still submerged by the foam and spray. Eagle scrambled
to his feet and sprang along the rocks, knowing that
(15:29):
the danger from suction was over and that Gifford must
be carried straight to the quiet pool. Gifford was a
fish in the water and could live under it longer
than most men. If he survived this, it would not
be the first time that his pluck and science had
saved them from drowning.
Speaker 2 (15:44):
Weigel reached the pool, a man in his evening clothes
floated on it. His face turned towards a projecting rock
over which his arm had fallen upholding the body. The
hand that had held the branch hung limply over the rock,
its white reflection visible in the black water. Weigle plunged
into the shallow pool, lifted Gifford in his arms, and
returned to the bank. He laid the body down and
(16:06):
threw off his coat, that he might be the freer
to practice the methods of resuscitation. He was glad of
the moment's respite, the valiant life, and the man might
have been exhausted in that last struggle, he had not
dared to look at his face, to put his ear
to the heart. The hesitation lasted but a moment. There
was no time to lose. He turned to his prostrate friend.
(16:27):
As he did so, something strange and disagreeable smote his senses.
For a half moment, he did not appreciate its nature.
Then his teeth clacked together, his feet, his outstretched arms
pointed towards the woods. But he sprang to the side
of the man and bent down and peered into his face.
Speaker 6 (16:46):
There was no face, man, that was scary stuff.
Speaker 3 (16:58):
That's creepy. No face.
Speaker 2 (17:00):
Yeah, and the guy was struggling helping himself up. Yeah,
clearly dead. Yeah, like they had spoken about previously in
the short story. Yeah.
Speaker 1 (17:09):
And also you know he I think he was talking
about the soul and the twins, like maybe this was
his soul or something.
Speaker 3 (17:15):
I don't know.
Speaker 2 (17:15):
Yeah, I mean these guys were clearly related. Yeah, Gertrude
said at least so that was the striving Place by
Gertrude Atherton, and that was one of two. Yeah.
Speaker 3 (17:26):
She said that that was her favorite one she ever wrote.
And so I can't disagree.
Speaker 2 (17:30):
Nice going, Gert, the old Gert, So chuck with's her.
What's the next selection in our cozy, scary, creepy study
the next.
Speaker 3 (17:40):
By the way, I appreciate the Halloween candy put out.
That's a nice touch.
Speaker 2 (17:43):
I know. I sprung for the full size once. Forget
that fun size crud.
Speaker 3 (17:48):
It's a little weird to eat Reese's pieces while I'm all.
Speaker 2 (17:50):
Creeped out, but they're still delicious.
Speaker 3 (17:53):
It's still delicious.
Speaker 1 (17:54):
So this one's called The Pale Man by Julius Long
and it is from Weird Tales, Volume twenty four, issue
number three. Weird Tales was a pulp rag a Chicago
started in nineteen twenty three and has had several iterations
over the years, including a modern one. You can still
I think by it's something called weird Tales.
Speaker 3 (18:13):
You know, it's been shut down here and there over
the years.
Speaker 2 (18:16):
Well, I know, I don't know if that's where he
got to start, but he definitely supplied a lot of stories.
HP Lovecraft, Yeah, weird tales. Totally love weird tales.
Speaker 3 (18:23):
Yeah, I kind of missed the old days like this.
I mean, I know you have stuff like this on.
Speaker 1 (18:26):
The internet now, but it's kind of neat to be
able to buy a little pulp thing for ten cents,
you know, back in the nineteen twenties.
Speaker 3 (18:32):
Like I did. Alrighty, So this is The Pale.
Speaker 1 (18:35):
Man by Julius Long, with the subtitle A queer little
tale about the eccentric behavior of a strange guest in
a country hotel.
Speaker 2 (18:44):
Nice kind of describes it perfectly. There.
Speaker 3 (18:47):
All right, ready, has everyone got the lights? Do very important?
Speaker 2 (18:51):
Remember close your eyes on the subway.
Speaker 3 (18:53):
And get your brandy and your Resi's pieces up.
Speaker 2 (18:56):
And chuff Juffy Reese's pieces India Brandy.
Speaker 3 (19:00):
That might be nice. All right, here we go.
Speaker 1 (19:05):
I have not yet met the man in number two twelve.
I do not even know his name. He never patronizes
the hotel restaurant, and he does not use the lobby.
On the three occasions when we passed each other by,
we did not speak, although we nodded in a semi cordial,
non committal way. I should like very much to make
his acquaintance. It is lonesome in this dreary place. With
the exception of the age lady down the corridor, the
(19:28):
only permanent guests are the man in number two twelve
and myself. However, I should not complain for this utter quiet.
It is precisely what the doctor prescribed. I wonder if
the man in number two twelve, too, has come.
Speaker 3 (19:40):
Here for a rest. He is so very pale.
Speaker 1 (19:43):
Yet I cannot believe that he is ill, for his
paleness is not of a sickly cast, but rather wholesome
in its ivory clarity. His carriage is that of a
man enjoying the best of health. He is tall and straight.
He walks erectly with a brisk, athletic stride. His pallor
is no doubt conj else he would quickly tan under
this burning summer sun. He must have traveled here by otto,
(20:05):
for he certainly was not a passenger on the train
that brought me, and he checked in only a short
time after my arrival. I had briefly rested in my
room and was walking down the stairs when I encountered
him ascending with his bag. It is odd that our
venerable bell boy did not show him to his room.
It is odd, too, that, with so many vacant rooms
in the hotel, he should have chosen number two twelve
(20:26):
At the extreme rear. The building is a long, narrow
affair three stories high. The rooms are all on the
east side, as the west wall is flushed with a
decrepit business building. The corridor is long in drab, and
its stiff bloated paper exudes a musty and pleasant odor.
The feeble electric bulbs that light it shine dimly, as
from a tomb. Revolted by this corridor. I insisted upon
(20:47):
being given number two oh one, which is at the
front and blessed with southern exposure. The room clerk, a
disagreeable fellow with a Hitler mustache, was very reluctant to
let me have it, as it was ordinarily reserved for
his more profitable transient trade. Wink wink, I fear my
stubborn insistence has made him an enemy. If only I
(21:08):
had been as self assertive thirty years ago, I should
now be a full fledged professor instead of a broken
down assistant. I still smart from the cavalier manner in
which the president of the university summarily recommended my vacation.
No doubt he acted for my best interests. The people
who have dominated my poor life invariably have. Oh well,
the summer's rest will probably do me considerable good. It
(21:30):
is pleasant to be away from the university. There's something
positively gratifying about the absence of the graduate student faiths.
If only it were not so lonely. I must devise
a way of meeting the pale man in number two twelve.
Perhaps the room clerk can arrange matters.
Speaker 2 (21:48):
So this guy, he's a bit of a whiner.
Speaker 1 (21:51):
Yeah, he's like a little whiny assistant professor who was
kind of.
Speaker 3 (21:55):
Told to go on vacation.
Speaker 2 (21:56):
It sounds like pretty much.
Speaker 3 (21:57):
And he took the room, the nicest room. Even though
it sounds like that was saved for prostitutes.
Speaker 2 (22:02):
It was being saved by the man with the Hitler
mustache for prostitutes.
Speaker 3 (22:06):
I get one of the transient trade, and that what
he means.
Speaker 2 (22:08):
Yeah, but I think he's also saying here immense possible interpretation.
Speaker 6 (22:12):
Sure, but he appears to have settled.
Speaker 2 (22:14):
In for a very long stay.
Speaker 3 (22:16):
Yeah that's true.
Speaker 2 (22:17):
It might rather than like a traveling salesman.
Speaker 3 (22:19):
The brandy is getting to me. My mind's in the gutter.
Speaker 2 (22:21):
The Reese's pieces are getting to you.
Speaker 3 (22:24):
All right, So he wants to meet the man in
two twelve. He something about this guy.
Speaker 2 (22:29):
He's also just pretty content to whine. It sounds like, yeah,
that's true. May I please? Okay, I've been here exactly
a week, and if there is a friendly soul in
this miserable little town, he has escaped my notice. Although
the trades people accept my money with flattering eagerness, they
studiously avoid even the most casual conversation. I am afraid
(22:52):
I can never cultivate their society unless I can arrange
to have my ancestors recognized as local residents. For the
last one hundred and fifty years, despite the coolness of
my reception, I have been frequently venturing abroad. In the
back of my mind, I have cherished hopes that I
might encounter the pale man in number two eleven. Incidentally,
I wonder why he has moved from number two twelve.
(23:14):
There is certainly little advantage in coming only one room
nearer to the front. I noticed the change yesterday when
I saw him coming out of his new room. We
nodded again, and this time I thought I detected a
certain malign satisfaction in his somber black eyes. He must
know that I am eager to make his acquaintance. Yet
his manner forbids overtures. If he wants me to go
(23:35):
all the way, he can go to the devil. I
am not the sort to run after anybody. Indeed, the
surly diffidence of the room clerk has been enough to
prevent me from questioning him about his mysterious guest. I
wonder where the pale man takes his meals. I have
been absenting myself from the hotel restaurant and patronizing the
restaurants outside. At each I have ventured inquiries about the
(23:56):
man in number two ten. No one at any restaurant
remembered his having been there. Perhaps he is entree into
the brahm and homes of this town, and again he
may have found a boarding house. I shall have to
learn if there be one, the pale man must be
difficult to please, for he has again changed his room.
I am baffled by his conduct. If he is so
desirous of locating himself more conveniently in the hotel, why
(24:19):
does he not move to number two oh two, which
is the nearest available room to the front. Perhaps I
can make his inability to locate himself permanently as an
excuse for starting a conversation. I see we are close neighbors. Now,
I might say casually, but that is to banal. I
must have waited a better opportunity.
Speaker 1 (24:37):
This guy is whinny. Yeah, he's like, well, I'm not
gonna go chase this guy down. And then he's like,
I wonder where he eats. He's just like sitting around
thinking about him, and he's getting closer.
Speaker 3 (24:48):
And I don't think that's a good thing.
Speaker 2 (24:50):
No, I don't either. It's a peculiar behavior for a
short story. Yeah, things like that kind of stand out.
Speaker 3 (24:55):
You know. This guy's like, oh, he's moving closer. How delightful. Yeah,
what a dummy. He has done it again.
Speaker 1 (25:04):
He's now occupying number two O nine. I'm intrigued by
his little game. I waste hours trying to fathom its point.
What possible motive could he have? I should think he
would get on the hotel people's nerves. I wonder what
our combination bell hop chambermaid thinks of having to prepare
four rooms for a single guest.
Speaker 3 (25:21):
If he were not stone deaf, I would ask him.
Speaker 1 (25:23):
At present, I feel too exhausted to attempt such an
enervating conversation. I am tremendously interested in the pale man's
next move. He must either skip a room or remain
where he is for a permanent guest. The very old
lady occupies number two O eight. She has not budged
from her room since I've been there, and I imagine
that she does not intend to.
Speaker 3 (25:42):
I wonder what the pale man will do.
Speaker 1 (25:45):
I await his decision with the nervous excitement of a
devote of the track on the eve of a big race.
After all, I have so little diversion. Well, the mysterious
guest was not forced to remain where he was, nor
did he have to skip a room. The lady in
number two O eight simplified matters by conveniently dying.
Speaker 3 (26:04):
That ain't good.
Speaker 1 (26:05):
No, no one knows the cause of her death, but
it is generally attributed to old age. She was buried
this morning. I was among the curious few who attended
her funeral. When I return home from the mortuary, I
was in time to see the pale man leaving her room.
Already he has moved in. He favored me with a
smile whose meaning I have tried in vain to decipher.
(26:26):
I cannot but believe that he meant it to have
some significance. He acted as if there were between us
some secret that I failed to appreciate. But then perhaps
his smile was meaningless after all, and only ambiguous by chance,
like that of the Mona Lisa. My man of mystery
now resides in number two O seven, and I am
(26:46):
not the least surprised. I would have been astonished if
he had not made his scheduled move. I've almost given
up trying to understand his eccentric conduct. I do not
know a single thing more about him than I knew
the day he arrived. I wonder whence he came. There's
something indefinably foreign about his manner. I'm curious to hear
his voice. I'd like to imagine that he speaks the
(27:07):
exotic tongue of some far away country. If only I
could somehow inveigle him into a conversation. I wish that
I were possessed of the glib assurance of a college
boy who can address himself to the most distinguished celebrity
without batting an eye. It is no wonder that I
am only an assistant professor. Man, this guy's really hung
up on that.
Speaker 3 (27:28):
He showed the kind of moxy at work as he
shows in this Man.
Speaker 2 (27:31):
Oh he shows in his head.
Speaker 3 (27:32):
Really yeah, maybe he'd be a professor by now. Jeseu.
This guy hope somebody kills him. My money's on the
tail man.
Speaker 2 (27:41):
It could. I was guessing it was the old lady
in the other room, but she died. She got a chance.
He knows what will happen.
Speaker 3 (27:48):
Maybe the chambermaid.
Speaker 2 (27:50):
Everybody wants to kill this guy, I do. I am worried.
This morning, I awoke to find myself lying prone upon
the floor, was fully clothed. I must have fallen exhausted
there after I returned to my room last night. I
wonder if my condition is more serious than I had suspected.
Until now, I have been inclined to discount the fears
(28:12):
of those who have pulled the long face about me.
For the first time, I recall the prolonged hand clasp
of the President when he bade me goodbye from the university. Obviously,
he never expected to see me alive again. Of course
I am not that unwell. Nevertheless, I must be more careful,
Thank Heaven, I have no dependence to worry about. I
have not even a wife, for I was never willing
(28:35):
to exchange the loneliness of a bachelor for the loneliness
of a husband. Burne, I can say in all sincerity
that the prospect of death does not frighten me. Speculation
about life beyond the grave has always bored me. Whatever
it is or is not, I'll try to get along.
I have been so preoccupied about the sudden turn of
my own affairs that I have neglected to make note
(28:57):
of a most extraordinary incident. The pale maid has done
an astounding thing. He has skipped three rooms and moved
all the way to number two zero three. We are
now very close neighbors. We shall meet oftener, and my
chances for making his acquaintance are now greater. I have
confined myself to my bed during the last few days,
and have had my food brought to me. I even
(29:19):
called the local doctor, whom I suspect to be a quack.
He looked me over with professional indifference and told me
not to leave my room. For some reason, he does
not want me to climb stairs. For this bit of information,
he received a ten dollar bill, which, as I directed him,
he fished out of my coat pocket. A pickpocket could
not have done better. He had not been gone long
(29:40):
when I was visited by the room clerk that worthy suggested,
with a great show of kindly concern, that I used
the facilities of the local hospital. It was so modern
in all that, with more firmness than I have been
able to muster in a long time. I gave him
to understand that I intended to remain where I am,
frowning sullenly, still retired. The doctor must have paused long
(30:02):
enough downstairs to tell him a pretty story. It is
obvious that he is afraid I shall die in his
best room. The pale man is up to his old tricks.
Last night, when I tottered down the hall, the door
of number two zero two is a jar. Without thinking,
I looked inside. The pale man sat in a rocking chair,
idly smoking a cigarette. He looked up into my eyes
(30:24):
and smiled that peculiar, ambiguous smile that has so deeply
puzzled me. I moved on down the corridor, not so
much mystified as annoyed. The whole mystery of the man's
conduct is beginning to irk me. It is all so inane,
so utterly lacking and motive. I feel that I shall
never meet the pale man. But at least I am
(30:45):
going to learn his identity. Tomorrow I shall ask the
room clerk and deliberately interrogate him.
Speaker 1 (30:53):
So sounds like this guy's really relaxing. Oh it's a
forced leave from work.
Speaker 2 (30:58):
He gets found up about stuff.
Speaker 1 (31:00):
All right, I'm ready for this to uh to happen
one way or the other, bringing on home chuck hard
to hearing this guy.
Speaker 2 (31:06):
Everybody's tired of hearing this guy.
Speaker 1 (31:09):
I know now, I know the identity of the pale man,
and I know the meaning of a smile. Early this afternoon,
I summoned the room clerk to my bedside. Please tell me,
I asked, abruptly, who is the man in number two
oh two?
Speaker 3 (31:24):
The clerk stared wearily and uncomprehendingly.
Speaker 2 (31:28):
M M, you must be mistaken that room is unoccupied.
Speaker 1 (31:32):
Oh but it is, I snapped in irritation. I myself
saw the man there only two nights ago. He is
a tall, handsome fellow with dark eyes and hair. He's
unusually pale. He checked in the day I arrived. The
hotel man regarded me dubiously, as if I were trying
to impose upon him.
Speaker 2 (31:51):
But I assure you there is no such person in
the house. As for his checking in when you did,
you were the only guest we registered that day.
Speaker 3 (32:00):
But why I've seen him twenty times. First he had
number two twelve at the end of the corridor, then
he kept moving toward the front. Now he's next door
number two O two.
Speaker 1 (32:10):
The room clerk threw up his hands. You're crazy, he exclaimed,
and I saw that he meant what he said. I
shut up at once and dismissed him. After he had gone,
I heard him rattling the knob of the pale man's door.
There's no doubt that he believes a room to be empty.
Thus it is that I can now understand the events
of the past few weeks. I now comprehend the significance
of the death in number two O seven. I even
(32:31):
feel partly responsible for the old lady's passing. After all,
I brought the man with me, But it was not
I who fixed his path. Why he chose to approach
me room after room through the length of this dreary hotel.
Why his path crossed the threshold of the woman in
number two O seven, Those mysteries I cannot explain. I
(32:53):
suppose I should have guessed his identity when he skipped
the three rooms the night I fell unconscious upon the floor,
in a single night of triumph, he advanced until he
was almost to my door. He will be coming by
and by to inhabit this room, his ultimate goal. When
he comes, I shall at least be able to return
his smile of grim recognition. Meanwhile, I have only to
(33:17):
wait beyond my bolted door.
Speaker 3 (33:20):
The door swings slowly open.
Speaker 1 (33:36):
WHOA, that's got his Yeah, I have a feeling the
pale man now resides in room to A one.
Speaker 2 (33:45):
I think he resides inside mister Julius long. Yeah, if
that was autobiographical.
Speaker 3 (33:52):
He kind of sounds like the Slender Man.
Speaker 2 (33:54):
A little bit, you know, Yeah, I did know.
Speaker 3 (33:57):
Uh So that's it. Happy Halloween.
Speaker 2 (33:59):
Ever, let's have some more brandy, Chuck.
Speaker 3 (34:01):
I know, I feel like reading like six more of these.
Speaker 2 (34:03):
We don't have to not slur any longer.
Speaker 3 (34:06):
That's right, pour it up.
Speaker 2 (34:08):
All right, here you go, and some Reces pieces.
Speaker 1 (34:12):
Thank you, sir, very nice, All right, Joey Chuck Halloween tradition.
Speaker 2 (34:15):
Happy Halloween to you, Chuck.
Speaker 3 (34:16):
Happy Halloween to you. Happy Halloween to.
Speaker 2 (34:18):
Jerry, Happy Halloween, Jerry.
Speaker 3 (34:20):
While our listeners out there, be safe, be careful.
Speaker 2 (34:22):
And have a spectacular night.
Speaker 1 (34:33):
For more on this and thousands of other topics, visit
HowStuffWorks dot com.
Welcome to you stuff you should know from HowStuffWorks dot com.
Speaker 2 (00:11):
Hello everyone, Happy Halloween. That was Chuck there.
Speaker 1 (00:16):
Not the wind, no, but it's it as windy outside
as you can tell, and rainy, and it's like kind
of spooky.
Speaker 2 (00:22):
Yes, but fortunately, Chuck, we have a nice fire going
here in our study.
Speaker 3 (00:26):
It is very nice in here.
Speaker 2 (00:27):
We're both wearing our best smoking jacket.
Speaker 1 (00:29):
Yep, felt like the oak would work. You've done it
with the place. It's very nice. I feel very comfortable
and it feels like a room to read scary things in.
Speaker 2 (00:39):
Well, that's precisely what we're about to do, Chuck.
Speaker 1 (00:42):
Then we waited for a stormy night too, which I
think we've been waiting for like two weeks.
Speaker 3 (00:45):
Has been really lovely weather.
Speaker 2 (00:46):
Yeah. The timing could not be better.
Speaker 3 (00:48):
It's perfect.
Speaker 1 (00:49):
And I don't have to tell everyone this, but you
all know it's midnight.
Speaker 3 (00:53):
Oh, yes, so we if you hear the clock strike,
it is, Oh, there it goes. We're a little late.
I thought I wanted to start reading right at midnight,
but it's okay.
Speaker 2 (01:03):
We're still within the witching hour okay, which I don't
think is necessarily midnight, but it's still scary.
Speaker 1 (01:09):
Yeah, well, now we have to wait for this thing
to ding twelve times a noo. So are we gonna
do the one by Gertrude Atherton first?
Speaker 2 (01:21):
I think we should. This is originally published by Old Gertrude, Yeah,
as The Twins Old Gertrude. Yeah, they called her, you
kind of have to.
Speaker 3 (01:31):
She was nineteen when she wrote that, right, what her name.
Speaker 2 (01:34):
Is Gertrude, so everybody called her Old Gert.
Speaker 3 (01:36):
Yeah.
Speaker 2 (01:37):
She published a thing called The Twins. That was the
original name of this story, and I guess it didn't
take off because about ten years later she renamed it
The Striding Place.
Speaker 3 (01:47):
I like the Twins?
Speaker 2 (01:48):
Do you sure? I did too, until I found out
that there is such a thing as an actual striding Place. Yeah.
It's a real part in a real river in real life. Yeah,
the War River right in Yorkshire.
Speaker 1 (02:01):
Yeah, this is uh, the waterfall kind of takes center
stage here at the end of the story.
Speaker 2 (02:06):
Yeah, it's like boilet, it's a it's a we won't
but I just want to explain because I did a
little extra research, even on the Halloween story episode. Yeah,
this river comes to a point where it's about as
wide as a large stride. So apparently it beckons people
just go ahead and jump. No reason to go walk
to the bridge above or the bridge below, just jump over. Yeah,
(02:27):
but it's also a very treacherous spot in the river.
So Chuck, you want to start reading this one or
do you want me to? It's up to you. I
say we trade off because we have two stories this year.
We didn't we didn't tell everybody yet. Oh yeah, we're
doing two stories this year. Yeah, these are great.
Speaker 3 (02:42):
They were a little.
Speaker 1 (02:42):
Shorter, so we thought we'd double it up. I've had
a little kangnac. I think I feel primed and ready
to go.
Speaker 2 (02:48):
We've had a lot of kangyac.
Speaker 3 (02:50):
That's right, all right, So shall we set go in here?
Has everyone dim the lights at home?
Speaker 2 (02:58):
Yes?
Speaker 3 (02:59):
If you're like I'm subway or something, then you.
Speaker 2 (03:01):
Should close your eyes safe.
Speaker 3 (03:03):
That's for another time.
Speaker 2 (03:04):
Close your eyes very tightly.
Speaker 3 (03:05):
Okay.
Speaker 1 (03:06):
The Striding Place by Gertrude Atherton. Weagle continental and detached,
tired of early grouse shooting, to stand propped against the
side fence while his host workmen routed up the birds
and long poles and drove them towards the waiting guns
made him feel himself a parody on the ancestors who
(03:27):
had roamed the moors and forests of this west, riding
of Yorkshire, and hot pursuit of game worth the killing.
But when in England and August, he always accepted whatever
proffered for the season, and invited his host to shoot
pheasants on his estates in the south. The amusements of life,
he argued, should be accepted with the same philosophy as
its ills.
Speaker 3 (03:46):
It had been a bad day.
Speaker 1 (03:48):
A heavy rain had made them more so spongy that
it fairly sprang beneath the feet.
Speaker 3 (03:52):
Whether or not the.
Speaker 1 (03:52):
Grouse had haunts of their own, wherein they were immune
from rheumatism, the bag had been small. The women, too,
were an unusual dull lot, the exception of a new
minded debutante who bothered Weagle at dinner by demanding the
verbal restoration of the vague paintings on the vaulted roof
above them. But it was no one of these things
that sat on Miagal's mind, as when the other men
(04:13):
went up to bed, he let himself out of the
castle and sauntered down to the river. His intimate friend,
the companion of his boyhood, the chum of his college days,
his fellow traveler in many Lands, the man for whom
he possessed stronger affection than for all men, had mysteriously
disappeared two days ago, and his track might have sprung
to the upper air for all trace he had left
(04:35):
behind him. He had been a guest on the adjoining
estate during the past week, shooting with fervor of the
true sportsman, making love in the intervals to Adeline Cavan,
and apparently in the best of spirits. As far as
was known, there was nothing to lower his mental mercury,
for his rent roll was a large one. Miss Cavan
blushed whenever he looked at her, and being one of
(04:57):
the best shots in England, he was never happier than
in August. The suicide theory was preposterous, all agreed, and
there was this little reason to believe him murdered. Nevertheless,
he had walked out of the march Abbey two nights
ago without hat or overcoat, and had not been seen
since the country was being patrolled night and day. One
hundred keepers and workmen were beating the woods and poking
(05:17):
the bogs on the moors, but as yet not so
much as a handkerchief had been found. So this guy's
best buddy is missing.
Speaker 2 (05:26):
Yeah, and it's really kind of weighing on his mind.
Speaker 1 (05:28):
It's bestie and he's he's hunting grouse and he's bored
out of his mind.
Speaker 2 (05:32):
Yeah. It sounds like, yeah, well his mind is elsewhere.
Speaker 3 (05:35):
Well, lady Geez going on and on about the painting,
the debute hunt. Yeah, do you blame him?
Speaker 2 (05:41):
Yeah? Okay, you're ready for more. Yeah. Weigel did not
believe for a moment that Wyatt Gifford was dead, and
although it was impossible not to be affected by the
general uneasiness, he was disposed to be more angry than frightened.
At Cambridge, Gifford had been an incorrigible, practical joker, and
by no means had outgrown the habit. It would be
(06:04):
like him to cut across the country in his evening clothes,
boreed a cattle train and amuse himself touching up the
picture of the sensation and west riding. However, Weagle's affection
for his friend was too deep to companion with tranquility
in the present state of doubt, and instead of going
to bed early with the other men, he determined to
walk until ready for sleep. He went down to the
(06:27):
river and followed the path through the woods. There was
no moon, but the stars sprinkled their cold light upon
the pretty belt of water flowing placidly past wood in
ruin between green masses of overhanging rocks, where sloping banks
tangled with tree and shrub leaping occasionally over stones with
the harsh notes of an angry scold to recover its equanimity.
(06:47):
The moment the way was clear again, it was very
dark in the depths where Weagle trod. He smiled as
he recalled a remark of Gifford's in English.
Speaker 4 (06:56):
Wood is like a good many other things in life,
very promising a distance, but a hollow mockery. When you
get within, you see daylight on both sides, and the
sun freckles the very bracken. Our woods need the light
to make them seem what they ought to be, what
they once were before our ancestors descendants demanded so much
more money in these so much more various days.
Speaker 2 (07:17):
Weigel strolled along, smoking and thinking of his friend, his pranks,
many of which had done more credit to his imagination
than this, and recalling conversations that had lasted the night through,
just before the end of the London season, they had
walked the streets one hot night after a party discussing
the various theories of the soul's destiny. That afternoon they
(07:38):
had met at the coffin of a college friend whose
mind had been blank for the past three years. Some
months previously they had called at the asylum to see him.
His expression had been senile, his face imprinted with the
record of debauchery. In death. The face was placid, intelligent,
without ignoble a lineation the face of the man they
(07:58):
had known at college. Weigel and Gifford had had no
time to comment there, and the afternoon and evening were full,
But coming forth from the House of Festivity together they
had reverted almost at once to the topic I cherish
the theory.
Speaker 1 (08:13):
Gifford had said that the soul sometimes lingers in the
body after death during madness. Of course, it is an
impotent prisoner, albeit a conscious one. Fancy its agony and
its horror. What more natural than that, when the life's
spark goes out, the tortured souls should take possession of
the vacant skull and triumph once more. For a few hours,
(08:33):
while old friends look their last. It has had time
to repent, while compelled to crouch and behold the result
of its work, and it has shrived itself into a
state of comparative purity. If I had my way, I
should stay inside my bones until the coffin had gone
into its niche, that I might obviate for my poor comrade,
the tragic impersonality of death. And I should like to
(08:54):
see justice done to it as it were, to see
lowered among its ancestors, with the ceremony and solemnity that
are its do I'm afraid that if I dissevered myself
too quickly, I should yield to curiosity and hasten to
investigate the mysteries of space.
Speaker 5 (09:07):
You believe in the soul is an independent entity, then
that it and the vital principle are not one and
the same.
Speaker 2 (09:15):
Is that a lady, No, that's a legal that's legal.
Speaker 3 (09:21):
Absolutely. The body and soul are twins.
Speaker 1 (09:23):
Life comrades, sometimes friends, sometimes enemies, but always loyal. In
the last instance, Someday, when I am tired of the world,
I shall go to India and become a Mahatma, solely
for the pleasure of receiving proof during life of this
independent relationship.
Speaker 5 (09:38):
Suppose you are not sealed up properly and returned after
one of your astral flights to find your earthly part
unfit for habitation. It is an experiment. I don't think
I should care to try, unless even juggling with soul
and fleshead.
Speaker 1 (09:53):
Paul, that would not be an uninteresting predicament. I should
rather enjoy experimenting with broken machine. The high, wild roar
of water smoked suddenly upon Weagle's ear, and checked his memories.
He left the wood and walked out on the huge
slippery stones which nearly closed the river wharf at this point,
and watched the waters boil down into the narrow paths
(10:14):
with their furious, untiring energy. The black quiet of the
woods rose high on either side. The stars seemed colder
and whiter just above. On either hand, the perspective of
the river might have run into a rayless cavern. There
was no lonelier spot in England, nor one which had
the right to claim so many ghosts if ghosts there were,
(10:35):
all right, man, So he basically was like, I can't sleep,
I'm going to go look for my friend.
Speaker 2 (10:40):
Yeah, he's thinking a lot. He's thinking about his good
friend Wyatt Gifford.
Speaker 1 (10:44):
Yeah, he's thinking of walking along the river. He's thinking
about why God tortured him with that voice.
Speaker 2 (10:49):
Yeah, he didn't like his voice, but it's not he's.
Speaker 3 (10:52):
Not in the best of way right now. No, all right,
are you ready to continue, sir?
Speaker 2 (10:58):
I'm prepared? You ready?
Speaker 1 (10:59):
Yeah?
Speaker 2 (11:02):
Weigel was not a coward, but he recalled uncomfortably the
tales of those that had been done to death in
the strid. Wordsworth's boy of Egremond had been disposed of
by the practical Whittaker, but countless others, more venturesome than wise,
had gone down into that narrow, boiling course, never to
appear in the still pool a few yards beyond below
(11:24):
the great rocks which formed the walls of the strid,
was believed to be a natural vault, unto whose shelves
the dead were drawn. The spot had an ugly fascination.
Weigel stood, visioning skeletons, uncoffined and green, the home of
the eyeless things that had devoured all that had covered
and filled that rattling symbol of man's mortality. Then fell
(11:44):
to wondering if anyone had attempted to leap the strid
of late. It was covered with slime. He had never
seen it look so treacherous. He shuddered and turned away,
impelled despite his manhood to flee the spot. As he
did so, something tossing in the foam below the fall,
something as white yet independent of it, caught his eye
and arrested his step. Then he saw that it was
(12:07):
describing a contrary motion to the rushing water, an upward
backward motion. Weigel stood rigid, breathless. He fancied he heard
the crackling of his hair. Was that a hand? It
thrust itself higher above the boiling foam, turned sideways, and
four frantic fingers were distinctly visible against the black rock beyond.
(12:27):
Weegle's superstitious terror left him. A man was there, struggling
to free himself from the suction beneath the strid swept down,
doubtless but a moment before his arrival. Perhaps as he
stood with him back to the current. He stepped as
close to the edge as he dared. The hand doubled,
as if in eprocation, shaking savagely in the face that
force which leads its creatures to a mutable low, then
(12:49):
spread wide again clutching, expanding, crying for help as audibly
as the human voice. Weigle dashed to the nearest street,
dragged and twisted off a branch with his strong arms,
and returned as swiftly to the strip. The hand was
in the same place, still gesticulating as wildly. The body
was undoubtedly caught in the rocks below, perhaps already halfway
(13:10):
along one of those hideous shelves. Weegel let himself down
upon a lower rock, braced his shoulder against the mask
beside him, and then, leaning out over the water, thrust
the branch into the hand. The fingers clutched it convulsively.
Weegel tugged powerfully, his own feet dragged perilously near the edge.
For a moment he produced no impression. Then an arm
(13:31):
shot above the waters.
Speaker 3 (13:33):
The blood sprang to Eagle's head.
Speaker 1 (13:34):
He was choked with the impression that the striad had
him in a roaring hold, and he saw nothing. Then
the mist cleared, the hand and arm were nearer, although
the rest of the body was still concealed by the foam.
Eagle peered out with distended eyes. The meager light revealed
in the cuff SLINKs of a peculiar device. The fingers
clutching the branch were as familiar. Weagle forgot the slippery stones,
(13:57):
the terrible death if he stepped too far. He pulled
with pass will, and muscle muscles flung themselves into the
hot light of his brain, trooping rapidly upon each other's heels,
as if in the thought of the drowning. Most of
the pleasures of his life, good and bad, were identified
in some way with this friend. Scenes of college, days
of travel where they had deliberately sought adventure and stood
(14:18):
between one another and death upon more occasions than one.
Of hours of delightful companionship, among the treasures of art
and others in the pursuit of pleasure flashed like the
changing particles of a kaleidoscope. Weagle had loved several women,
but he would have flouted in these moments the thought
that he ever had loved any woman as he loved
Wyatt Gifford. There were so many charming women in the world,
(14:40):
and in the thirty two years of his life, he
had never known another man to whom he had cared
to give his intimate friendship.
Speaker 2 (14:49):
So, Chuck, it sounds like he's pretty certain this is Wyatt. Yeah,
his long lost buddy. He's in the foamy waterfall and
he's trying to save him. Yeah, so this is getting intent.
Speaker 1 (14:59):
It's getting super intense, and it sounds like he really
likes this guy in es, like he really wants to
save his friend.
Speaker 2 (15:04):
Sure.
Speaker 1 (15:07):
He threw himself on his face. His wrist were cracking,
the skin was torn from his hands. The fingers still
gripped the stick. There was life in them. Yet suddenly
something gave way. The hand swung about, tearing the branch
from Eagle's grasp. The body had been liberated and flung outward,
though still submerged by the foam and spray. Eagle scrambled
to his feet and sprang along the rocks, knowing that
(15:29):
the danger from suction was over and that Gifford must
be carried straight to the quiet pool. Gifford was a
fish in the water and could live under it longer
than most men. If he survived this, it would not
be the first time that his pluck and science had
saved them from drowning.
Speaker 2 (15:44):
Weigel reached the pool, a man in his evening clothes
floated on it. His face turned towards a projecting rock
over which his arm had fallen upholding the body. The
hand that had held the branch hung limply over the rock,
its white reflection visible in the black water. Weigle plunged
into the shallow pool, lifted Gifford in his arms, and
returned to the bank. He laid the body down and
(16:06):
threw off his coat, that he might be the freer
to practice the methods of resuscitation. He was glad of
the moment's respite, the valiant life, and the man might
have been exhausted in that last struggle, he had not
dared to look at his face, to put his ear
to the heart. The hesitation lasted but a moment. There
was no time to lose. He turned to his prostrate friend.
(16:27):
As he did so, something strange and disagreeable smote his senses.
For a half moment, he did not appreciate its nature.
Then his teeth clacked together, his feet, his outstretched arms
pointed towards the woods. But he sprang to the side
of the man and bent down and peered into his face.
Speaker 6 (16:46):
There was no face, man, that was scary stuff.
Speaker 3 (16:58):
That's creepy. No face.
Speaker 2 (17:00):
Yeah, and the guy was struggling helping himself up. Yeah,
clearly dead. Yeah, like they had spoken about previously in
the short story. Yeah.
Speaker 1 (17:09):
And also you know he I think he was talking
about the soul and the twins, like maybe this was
his soul or something.
Speaker 3 (17:15):
I don't know.
Speaker 2 (17:15):
Yeah, I mean these guys were clearly related. Yeah, Gertrude
said at least so that was the striving Place by
Gertrude Atherton, and that was one of two. Yeah.
Speaker 3 (17:26):
She said that that was her favorite one she ever wrote.
And so I can't disagree.
Speaker 2 (17:30):
Nice going, Gert, the old Gert, So chuck with's her.
What's the next selection in our cozy, scary, creepy study
the next.
Speaker 3 (17:40):
By the way, I appreciate the Halloween candy put out.
That's a nice touch.
Speaker 2 (17:43):
I know. I sprung for the full size once. Forget
that fun size crud.
Speaker 3 (17:48):
It's a little weird to eat Reese's pieces while I'm all.
Speaker 2 (17:50):
Creeped out, but they're still delicious.
Speaker 3 (17:53):
It's still delicious.
Speaker 1 (17:54):
So this one's called The Pale Man by Julius Long
and it is from Weird Tales, Volume twenty four, issue
number three. Weird Tales was a pulp rag a Chicago
started in nineteen twenty three and has had several iterations
over the years, including a modern one. You can still
I think by it's something called weird Tales.
Speaker 3 (18:13):
You know, it's been shut down here and there over
the years.
Speaker 2 (18:16):
Well, I know, I don't know if that's where he
got to start, but he definitely supplied a lot of stories.
HP Lovecraft, Yeah, weird tales. Totally love weird tales.
Speaker 3 (18:23):
Yeah, I kind of missed the old days like this.
I mean, I know you have stuff like this on.
Speaker 1 (18:26):
The internet now, but it's kind of neat to be
able to buy a little pulp thing for ten cents,
you know, back in the nineteen twenties.
Speaker 3 (18:32):
Like I did. Alrighty, So this is The Pale.
Speaker 1 (18:35):
Man by Julius Long, with the subtitle A queer little
tale about the eccentric behavior of a strange guest in
a country hotel.
Speaker 2 (18:44):
Nice kind of describes it perfectly. There.
Speaker 3 (18:47):
All right, ready, has everyone got the lights? Do very important?
Speaker 2 (18:51):
Remember close your eyes on the subway.
Speaker 3 (18:53):
And get your brandy and your Resi's pieces up.
Speaker 2 (18:56):
And chuff Juffy Reese's pieces India Brandy.
Speaker 3 (19:00):
That might be nice. All right, here we go.
Speaker 1 (19:05):
I have not yet met the man in number two twelve.
I do not even know his name. He never patronizes
the hotel restaurant, and he does not use the lobby.
On the three occasions when we passed each other by,
we did not speak, although we nodded in a semi cordial,
non committal way. I should like very much to make
his acquaintance. It is lonesome in this dreary place. With
the exception of the age lady down the corridor, the
(19:28):
only permanent guests are the man in number two twelve
and myself. However, I should not complain for this utter quiet.
It is precisely what the doctor prescribed. I wonder if
the man in number two twelve, too, has come.
Speaker 3 (19:40):
Here for a rest. He is so very pale.
Speaker 1 (19:43):
Yet I cannot believe that he is ill, for his
paleness is not of a sickly cast, but rather wholesome
in its ivory clarity. His carriage is that of a
man enjoying the best of health. He is tall and straight.
He walks erectly with a brisk, athletic stride. His pallor
is no doubt conj else he would quickly tan under
this burning summer sun. He must have traveled here by otto,
(20:05):
for he certainly was not a passenger on the train
that brought me, and he checked in only a short
time after my arrival. I had briefly rested in my
room and was walking down the stairs when I encountered
him ascending with his bag. It is odd that our
venerable bell boy did not show him to his room.
It is odd, too, that, with so many vacant rooms
in the hotel, he should have chosen number two twelve
(20:26):
At the extreme rear. The building is a long, narrow
affair three stories high. The rooms are all on the
east side, as the west wall is flushed with a
decrepit business building. The corridor is long in drab, and
its stiff bloated paper exudes a musty and pleasant odor.
The feeble electric bulbs that light it shine dimly, as
from a tomb. Revolted by this corridor. I insisted upon
(20:47):
being given number two oh one, which is at the
front and blessed with southern exposure. The room clerk, a
disagreeable fellow with a Hitler mustache, was very reluctant to
let me have it, as it was ordinarily reserved for
his more profitable transient trade. Wink wink, I fear my
stubborn insistence has made him an enemy. If only I
(21:08):
had been as self assertive thirty years ago, I should
now be a full fledged professor instead of a broken
down assistant. I still smart from the cavalier manner in
which the president of the university summarily recommended my vacation.
No doubt he acted for my best interests. The people
who have dominated my poor life invariably have. Oh well,
the summer's rest will probably do me considerable good. It
(21:30):
is pleasant to be away from the university. There's something
positively gratifying about the absence of the graduate student faiths.
If only it were not so lonely. I must devise
a way of meeting the pale man in number two twelve.
Perhaps the room clerk can arrange matters.
Speaker 2 (21:48):
So this guy, he's a bit of a whiner.
Speaker 1 (21:51):
Yeah, he's like a little whiny assistant professor who was
kind of.
Speaker 3 (21:55):
Told to go on vacation.
Speaker 2 (21:56):
It sounds like pretty much.
Speaker 3 (21:57):
And he took the room, the nicest room. Even though
it sounds like that was saved for prostitutes.
Speaker 2 (22:02):
It was being saved by the man with the Hitler
mustache for prostitutes.
Speaker 3 (22:06):
I get one of the transient trade, and that what
he means.
Speaker 2 (22:08):
Yeah, but I think he's also saying here immense possible interpretation.
Speaker 6 (22:12):
Sure, but he appears to have settled.
Speaker 2 (22:14):
In for a very long stay.
Speaker 3 (22:16):
Yeah that's true.
Speaker 2 (22:17):
It might rather than like a traveling salesman.
Speaker 3 (22:19):
The brandy is getting to me. My mind's in the gutter.
Speaker 2 (22:21):
The Reese's pieces are getting to you.
Speaker 3 (22:24):
All right, So he wants to meet the man in
two twelve. He something about this guy.
Speaker 2 (22:29):
He's also just pretty content to whine. It sounds like, yeah,
that's true. May I please? Okay, I've been here exactly
a week, and if there is a friendly soul in
this miserable little town, he has escaped my notice. Although
the trades people accept my money with flattering eagerness, they
studiously avoid even the most casual conversation. I am afraid
(22:52):
I can never cultivate their society unless I can arrange
to have my ancestors recognized as local residents. For the
last one hundred and fifty years, despite the coolness of
my reception, I have been frequently venturing abroad. In the
back of my mind, I have cherished hopes that I
might encounter the pale man in number two eleven. Incidentally,
I wonder why he has moved from number two twelve.
(23:14):
There is certainly little advantage in coming only one room
nearer to the front. I noticed the change yesterday when
I saw him coming out of his new room. We
nodded again, and this time I thought I detected a
certain malign satisfaction in his somber black eyes. He must
know that I am eager to make his acquaintance. Yet
his manner forbids overtures. If he wants me to go
(23:35):
all the way, he can go to the devil. I
am not the sort to run after anybody. Indeed, the
surly diffidence of the room clerk has been enough to
prevent me from questioning him about his mysterious guest. I
wonder where the pale man takes his meals. I have
been absenting myself from the hotel restaurant and patronizing the
restaurants outside. At each I have ventured inquiries about the
(23:56):
man in number two ten. No one at any restaurant
remembered his having been there. Perhaps he is entree into
the brahm and homes of this town, and again he
may have found a boarding house. I shall have to
learn if there be one, the pale man must be
difficult to please, for he has again changed his room.
I am baffled by his conduct. If he is so
desirous of locating himself more conveniently in the hotel, why
(24:19):
does he not move to number two oh two, which
is the nearest available room to the front. Perhaps I
can make his inability to locate himself permanently as an
excuse for starting a conversation. I see we are close neighbors. Now,
I might say casually, but that is to banal. I
must have waited a better opportunity.
Speaker 1 (24:37):
This guy is whinny. Yeah, he's like, well, I'm not
gonna go chase this guy down. And then he's like,
I wonder where he eats. He's just like sitting around
thinking about him, and he's getting closer.
Speaker 3 (24:48):
And I don't think that's a good thing.
Speaker 2 (24:50):
No, I don't either. It's a peculiar behavior for a
short story. Yeah, things like that kind of stand out.
Speaker 3 (24:55):
You know. This guy's like, oh, he's moving closer. How delightful. Yeah,
what a dummy. He has done it again.
Speaker 1 (25:04):
He's now occupying number two O nine. I'm intrigued by
his little game. I waste hours trying to fathom its point.
What possible motive could he have? I should think he
would get on the hotel people's nerves. I wonder what
our combination bell hop chambermaid thinks of having to prepare
four rooms for a single guest.
Speaker 3 (25:21):
If he were not stone deaf, I would ask him.
Speaker 1 (25:23):
At present, I feel too exhausted to attempt such an
enervating conversation. I am tremendously interested in the pale man's
next move. He must either skip a room or remain
where he is for a permanent guest. The very old
lady occupies number two O eight. She has not budged
from her room since I've been there, and I imagine
that she does not intend to.
Speaker 3 (25:42):
I wonder what the pale man will do.
Speaker 1 (25:45):
I await his decision with the nervous excitement of a
devote of the track on the eve of a big race.
After all, I have so little diversion. Well, the mysterious
guest was not forced to remain where he was, nor
did he have to skip a room. The lady in
number two O eight simplified matters by conveniently dying.
Speaker 3 (26:04):
That ain't good.
Speaker 1 (26:05):
No, no one knows the cause of her death, but
it is generally attributed to old age. She was buried
this morning. I was among the curious few who attended
her funeral. When I return home from the mortuary, I
was in time to see the pale man leaving her room.
Already he has moved in. He favored me with a
smile whose meaning I have tried in vain to decipher.
(26:26):
I cannot but believe that he meant it to have
some significance. He acted as if there were between us
some secret that I failed to appreciate. But then perhaps
his smile was meaningless after all, and only ambiguous by chance,
like that of the Mona Lisa. My man of mystery
now resides in number two O seven, and I am
(26:46):
not the least surprised. I would have been astonished if
he had not made his scheduled move. I've almost given
up trying to understand his eccentric conduct. I do not
know a single thing more about him than I knew
the day he arrived. I wonder whence he came. There's
something indefinably foreign about his manner. I'm curious to hear
his voice. I'd like to imagine that he speaks the
(27:07):
exotic tongue of some far away country. If only I
could somehow inveigle him into a conversation. I wish that
I were possessed of the glib assurance of a college
boy who can address himself to the most distinguished celebrity
without batting an eye. It is no wonder that I
am only an assistant professor. Man, this guy's really hung
up on that.
Speaker 3 (27:28):
He showed the kind of moxy at work as he
shows in this Man.
Speaker 2 (27:31):
Oh he shows in his head.
Speaker 3 (27:32):
Really yeah, maybe he'd be a professor by now. Jeseu.
This guy hope somebody kills him. My money's on the
tail man.
Speaker 2 (27:41):
It could. I was guessing it was the old lady
in the other room, but she died. She got a chance.
He knows what will happen.
Speaker 3 (27:48):
Maybe the chambermaid.
Speaker 2 (27:50):
Everybody wants to kill this guy, I do. I am worried.
This morning, I awoke to find myself lying prone upon
the floor, was fully clothed. I must have fallen exhausted
there after I returned to my room last night. I
wonder if my condition is more serious than I had suspected.
Until now, I have been inclined to discount the fears
(28:12):
of those who have pulled the long face about me.
For the first time, I recall the prolonged hand clasp
of the President when he bade me goodbye from the university. Obviously,
he never expected to see me alive again. Of course
I am not that unwell. Nevertheless, I must be more careful,
Thank Heaven, I have no dependence to worry about. I
have not even a wife, for I was never willing
(28:35):
to exchange the loneliness of a bachelor for the loneliness
of a husband. Burne, I can say in all sincerity
that the prospect of death does not frighten me. Speculation
about life beyond the grave has always bored me. Whatever
it is or is not, I'll try to get along.
I have been so preoccupied about the sudden turn of
my own affairs that I have neglected to make note
(28:57):
of a most extraordinary incident. The pale maid has done
an astounding thing. He has skipped three rooms and moved
all the way to number two zero three. We are
now very close neighbors. We shall meet oftener, and my
chances for making his acquaintance are now greater. I have
confined myself to my bed during the last few days,
and have had my food brought to me. I even
(29:19):
called the local doctor, whom I suspect to be a quack.
He looked me over with professional indifference and told me
not to leave my room. For some reason, he does
not want me to climb stairs. For this bit of information,
he received a ten dollar bill, which, as I directed him,
he fished out of my coat pocket. A pickpocket could
not have done better. He had not been gone long
(29:40):
when I was visited by the room clerk that worthy suggested,
with a great show of kindly concern, that I used
the facilities of the local hospital. It was so modern
in all that, with more firmness than I have been
able to muster in a long time. I gave him
to understand that I intended to remain where I am,
frowning sullenly, still retired. The doctor must have paused long
(30:02):
enough downstairs to tell him a pretty story. It is
obvious that he is afraid I shall die in his
best room. The pale man is up to his old tricks.
Last night, when I tottered down the hall, the door
of number two zero two is a jar. Without thinking,
I looked inside. The pale man sat in a rocking chair,
idly smoking a cigarette. He looked up into my eyes
(30:24):
and smiled that peculiar, ambiguous smile that has so deeply
puzzled me. I moved on down the corridor, not so
much mystified as annoyed. The whole mystery of the man's
conduct is beginning to irk me. It is all so inane,
so utterly lacking and motive. I feel that I shall
never meet the pale man. But at least I am
(30:45):
going to learn his identity. Tomorrow I shall ask the
room clerk and deliberately interrogate him.
Speaker 1 (30:53):
So sounds like this guy's really relaxing. Oh it's a
forced leave from work.
Speaker 2 (30:58):
He gets found up about stuff.
Speaker 1 (31:00):
All right, I'm ready for this to uh to happen
one way or the other, bringing on home chuck hard
to hearing this guy.
Speaker 2 (31:06):
Everybody's tired of hearing this guy.
Speaker 1 (31:09):
I know now, I know the identity of the pale man,
and I know the meaning of a smile. Early this afternoon,
I summoned the room clerk to my bedside. Please tell me,
I asked, abruptly, who is the man in number two
oh two?
Speaker 3 (31:24):
The clerk stared wearily and uncomprehendingly.
Speaker 2 (31:28):
M M, you must be mistaken that room is unoccupied.
Speaker 1 (31:32):
Oh but it is, I snapped in irritation. I myself
saw the man there only two nights ago. He is
a tall, handsome fellow with dark eyes and hair. He's
unusually pale. He checked in the day I arrived. The
hotel man regarded me dubiously, as if I were trying
to impose upon him.
Speaker 2 (31:51):
But I assure you there is no such person in
the house. As for his checking in when you did,
you were the only guest we registered that day.
Speaker 3 (32:00):
But why I've seen him twenty times. First he had
number two twelve at the end of the corridor, then
he kept moving toward the front. Now he's next door
number two O two.
Speaker 1 (32:10):
The room clerk threw up his hands. You're crazy, he exclaimed,
and I saw that he meant what he said. I
shut up at once and dismissed him. After he had gone,
I heard him rattling the knob of the pale man's door.
There's no doubt that he believes a room to be empty.
Thus it is that I can now understand the events
of the past few weeks. I now comprehend the significance
of the death in number two O seven. I even
(32:31):
feel partly responsible for the old lady's passing. After all,
I brought the man with me, But it was not
I who fixed his path. Why he chose to approach
me room after room through the length of this dreary hotel.
Why his path crossed the threshold of the woman in
number two O seven, Those mysteries I cannot explain. I
(32:53):
suppose I should have guessed his identity when he skipped
the three rooms the night I fell unconscious upon the floor,
in a single night of triumph, he advanced until he
was almost to my door. He will be coming by
and by to inhabit this room, his ultimate goal. When
he comes, I shall at least be able to return
his smile of grim recognition. Meanwhile, I have only to
(33:17):
wait beyond my bolted door.
Speaker 3 (33:20):
The door swings slowly open.
Speaker 1 (33:36):
WHOA, that's got his Yeah, I have a feeling the
pale man now resides in room to A one.
Speaker 2 (33:45):
I think he resides inside mister Julius long. Yeah, if
that was autobiographical.
Speaker 3 (33:52):
He kind of sounds like the Slender Man.
Speaker 2 (33:54):
A little bit, you know, Yeah, I did know.
Speaker 3 (33:57):
Uh So that's it. Happy Halloween.
Speaker 2 (33:59):
Ever, let's have some more brandy, Chuck.
Speaker 3 (34:01):
I know, I feel like reading like six more of these.
Speaker 2 (34:03):
We don't have to not slur any longer.
Speaker 3 (34:06):
That's right, pour it up.
Speaker 2 (34:08):
All right, here you go, and some Reces pieces.
Speaker 1 (34:12):
Thank you, sir, very nice, All right, Joey Chuck Halloween tradition.
Speaker 2 (34:15):
Happy Halloween to you, Chuck.
Speaker 3 (34:16):
Happy Halloween to you. Happy Halloween to.
Speaker 2 (34:18):
Jerry, Happy Halloween, Jerry.
Speaker 3 (34:20):
While our listeners out there, be safe, be careful.
Speaker 2 (34:22):
And have a spectacular night.
Speaker 1 (34:33):
For more on this and thousands of other topics, visit
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