Episode 18 - Death roams a dark desert highway and Lost at sea
Today's episode delves into the intricate interplay between the ordinary and the extraordinary, as we explore two compelling narratives that challenge our understanding of reality. The first story, "Highway to Hell," presents a chilling account of a solitary driver who extends an act of kindness, only to find himself ensnared in a harrowing encounter with the unknown. This tale serves as a poignant reminder that the familiar can swiftly give way to the uncanny, as the protagonist is drawn into a world where danger lurks just beyond perception. Subsequently, we transition to "The Horizon," a narrative that underscores the profound notion that our deepest fears may not always embody the gravest threats. In both tales, we are beckoned to confront the shadows that dwell within the human experience, revealing the fragility of our grasp on reality and the enigmatic forces that govern our existence. Join us as we traverse these unsettling terrains where reality begins to fray and the extraordinary emerges from the mundane.
Transcript
Imagine a world teetering on the edge of the familiar, a place where the fabric of the everyday begins to unravel, revealing glimpses of the extraordinary lurking beneath.
Speaker A:You're about to embark on a journey into the enigmatic, where the peculiar and the perplexing intertwine, where every tale twists the mind and tugs at the spirit.
Speaker A:It's a descent into the strange, the mysterious, and the unexplained.
Speaker A:This is when reality frays.
Speaker A:New episodes are published every Monday and Thursday, and when Reality Phrase is available everywhere, fine podcasts are found.
Speaker A:Before we move on, please hit that Follow or Subscribe button and turn on all reminders so you're alerted when new episodes are released.
Speaker A:Today's episode contains two stories.
Speaker A:First up is highway to Hell, a tale about how an act of kindness becomes an encounter with death.
Speaker A:And second is the Horizon, a story to remind us that what we fear the most isn't always the worst thing that can happen.
Speaker A:Now let's get to the stories.
Speaker A:Picture, if you will, a solitary driver cutting through the desolate heart of the Arizona desert, where the night is as vast as eternity and the road stretches toward an unseen horizon.
Speaker A:Here, on this lonely ribbon of asphalt where the living and the lost brush shoulders, one man will encounter a stranger whose presence carries the weight of finality.
Speaker A:In this forgotten corner of the world, where time frays and shadows hold secrets, a single act of kindness will lead him into the unknown.
Speaker A:Fasten your seatbelt, for this journey takes us beyond the veil, into that place where reality frays.
Speaker A:The steady hum of Jack Tanner's car was a comforting drone against the oppressive silence of the Arizona desert.
Speaker A:Route 93 unspooled before him, a cracked thread of asphalt cutting through endless scrub beneath a moonless sky.
Speaker A:Jack, a wiry man in his late 40s, preferred to drive at night, especially the Kingman to Phoenix Run, a run he had driven so often it was like he was on autopilot.
Speaker A:The road was empty, predictable, a place where nothing ever happened.
Speaker A:Until it did.
Speaker A:A figure materialized in the beam of his headlights, standing on the shoulder, arm outstretched.
Speaker A:A hitchhiker, alone in the middle of nowhere, miles from any trace of civilization.
Speaker A:Jack's instincts urged him to keep driving.
Speaker A:Nobody wandered out here at 2am without trouble chasing them.
Speaker A:But the figure was small and moving with a frantic urgency that tugged at something deep in his chest.
Speaker A:He eased off the gas and steered onto the narrow shoulder, the car's tires crunching gravel and swirling dust into the headlights glow.
Speaker A:The hitchhiker was young, late 20s, with tangled dark hair and eyes wide with terror.
Speaker A:Her denim jacket was torn at the sleeve, her jeans dusted with sand and ripped at the knee as if she had clawed her way through the desert itself.
Speaker A:She yanked the passenger door open before Jack could roll down the window, scrambling into the car with a desperation he could feel.
Speaker A:Please, she gasped, slamming the door.
Speaker A:You gotta help me.
Speaker A:Just drive.
Speaker A:Please.
Speaker A:Jack's hand slipped out of sight to the butt of a pistol he kept in a pocket on the driver's door, his brow furrowing.
Speaker A:You okay?
Speaker A:You hurt?
Speaker A:Just go.
Speaker A:Her voice was sharp, raw, her hands trembling as she clutched his arm.
Speaker A:They're after me.
Speaker A:Please go.
Speaker A:Jack's eyes scanned her for signs of injury.
Speaker A:She didn't look hurt, just frightened out of her mind.
Speaker A:Her gaze darted to the side mirror as if expecting something or someone to emerge from the dark.
Speaker A:Who's they?
Speaker A:Jack asked, his tone steady.
Speaker A:I don't know, she said, her voice breaking into a sob.
Speaker A:I was taken.
Speaker A:Abducted.
Speaker A:I don't know by who or why.
Speaker A:I got away.
Speaker A:I ran, but they're out there.
Speaker A:Please, just drive.
Speaker A:Jack glanced at his phone.
Speaker A:No bars, typical for this stretch of 93 where the world turned its back on you.
Speaker A:He couldn't call for help.
Speaker A:After another few moments of thought, he steered back onto the highway and gently accelerated.
Speaker A:All right, he said, his voice calm but wary.
Speaker A:What's your name?
Speaker A:Terry, she whispered, her eyes still locked on the side mirror.
Speaker A:I think.
Speaker A:I think it's Terry.
Speaker A:You think?
Speaker A:Jack's skepticism sharpened, his hands tightening on the wheel.
Speaker A:You don't know your own name?
Speaker A:It's all blurry.
Speaker A:She pressed her palms to her temples, her fingers trembling.
Speaker A:I was in a room.
Speaker A:Bright lights like hospital lights.
Speaker A:Cold voices, but not words I could understand.
Speaker A:I tried to fight, but I couldn't.
Speaker A:Then I was running in the desert.
Speaker A:I don't know how I got here.
Speaker A:Her fear was palpable, and Jack felt it coil around him.
Speaker A:She wasn't high, wasn't drunk.
Speaker A:Her eyes were clear, her words frantic but coherent.
Speaker A:He had heard stories about the desert traffickers, cults, strange lights in the sky, but something about her story didn't fit.
Speaker A:Still, he drove, the road stretching endlessly, the desert silent.
Speaker A:They rode for nearly an hour, the only sound the hum of the tires on pavement.
Speaker A:The desert offered no landmarks, no relief, just an unchanging void.
Speaker A:Then ahead, a glow pierced the horizon, a blazingly bright neon sign that read DESERT Oasis in red.
Speaker A:A lone truck stop, its lights a promise of civilization.
Speaker A:218 wheelers sat in the lot, their cabs dark alongside a scattering of cars.
Speaker A:Jack eased off the gas.
Speaker A:We're stopping here, he said, his voice firm.
Speaker A:I'll call the cops and get you some help.
Speaker A:No.
Speaker A:Terry's voice was sharp, her hand shooting out to grab his arm.
Speaker A:Her grip was cold, unnaturally strong, her fingers digging into his skin.
Speaker A:No police, please.
Speaker A:They'll find me if you call anyone.
Speaker A:Who's they?
Speaker A:Jack yanked his arm free, his patience fraying.
Speaker A:You gotta give me something, Terry.
Speaker A:I'm trying to help you.
Speaker A:I don't know.
Speaker A:Tears welled in her eyes, her voice rising, desperate.
Speaker A:I just know if you call anyone, they'll know where I am.
Speaker A:They'll come for me again.
Speaker A:Please don't.
Speaker A:Jack parked, the engine ticking as it idled.
Speaker A:The diner's windows glowed faintly, catching, casting long, distorted shadows across the lot.
Speaker A:He studied Terry, her pale face, her wide, pleading eyes, and the way she seemed to shrink into the seat, yet carried a strange intensity, like she was both hunter and hunted.
Speaker A:Look, he said, softening his tone.
Speaker A:You need help.
Speaker A:Real help.
Speaker A:I can't just drive you into the night with no plan.
Speaker A:Stay here.
Speaker A:Let me at least.
Speaker A:No.
Speaker A:Her voice trembled but was resolute.
Speaker A:Before he could argue, she flung open the door and bolted, her figure vanishing into the shadows beyond the lot's edge where the desert swallowed all light.
Speaker A:Jack cursed under his breath.
Speaker A:He should have grabbed her and held her there until the cops showed up.
Speaker A:Should have done something.
Speaker A:But she was gone, lost to the night, staring into the darkness that had swallowed Terry.
Speaker A:He decided he had used the diner's phone to call the cops about the frantic woman.
Speaker A:Let them figure it out, he muttered as he climbed out of the car.
Speaker A:The diner's door creaked as he pushed it open, the bell jingling faintly, a hollow sound that echoed in the still air.
Speaker A:The smell hit him first.
Speaker A:Burnt coffee, old grease, and something else, something stale and heavy like dust settled on forgotten things.
Speaker A:The place was packed, three dozen people at least, filling the booths and lining the counter.
Speaker A:Truckers in faded flannel, a family with two kids, an old man in a cowboy hat, a young couple sharing a booth, and a woman in a red dress perched on a stool.
Speaker A:But the room was silent.
Speaker A:No clatter of plates, no murmur of conversation, no laughter.
Speaker A:Every pair of eyes stared blankly ahead, fixed on nothing, as if time had stopped and left them behind.
Speaker A:Jack's skin prickled, a cold unease settling over him.
Speaker A:Still, he stepped fully inside, his boots loud on the chipped linoleum.
Speaker A:Overhead, fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, casting a sickly glow over the scene.
Speaker A:No one looked up as he came farther into the diner.
Speaker A:The people didn't move, didn't even blink.
Speaker A:Their faces were pale, their expressions empty, yet somehow heavy with dread.
Speaker A:The family's kids sat rigid, hands folded, staring at the table where a plate of untouched fries sat cold.
Speaker A:The old man's coffee cup was full, steam long gone, his fingers curled around it like a claw.
Speaker A:The couple in the booth held hands, but their grip was stiff, their eyes locked on some distant point beyond the walls.
Speaker A:The woman in the red dress tilted her head slightly as Jack passed, her vacant eyes brushing his.
Speaker A:Hey, jack said, his voice too loud in the silence.
Speaker A:You got a phone I can use?
Speaker A:The attendant, a kid with a lip ring, stood behind the counter, wiping the same spot over and over with a rag that went in circles, endlessly, pointlessly.
Speaker A:His movements were slow and mechanical, like a wind up toy running down.
Speaker A:He didn't look up, didn't acknowledge Jack.
Speaker A:Jack's unease deepened, his heart thudding.
Speaker A:He glanced around, noticing overlooked details that made his stomach tighten.
Speaker A:The trucker's flannel was stained with something dark, not quite blood, but the kid's clothes were outdated, like something from decades past.
Speaker A:The woman in the red dress had a faint scar across her throat, barely visible but unmistakable.
Speaker A:Jack moved toward a payphone on the wall.
Speaker A:He picked up the receiver and pressed it to his ear.
Speaker A:The phone was dead.
Speaker A:He slammed the receiver down, turning back to the room.
Speaker A:Every pair of eyes was on him now, unblinking, their gazes heavy with a silent demand, waiting not for food, not for coffee, for something else.
Speaker A:Something final.
Speaker A:A ride, perhaps.
Speaker A:Perhaps to a destination no map could chart.
Speaker A:Jack's breath caught, his mind screaming that these weren't people.
Speaker A:Not anymore.
Speaker A:They were shells tethered to this place.
Speaker A:And Terry?
Speaker A:She had known she'd run from this.
Speaker A:He backed toward the door, his boots scraping the floor.
Speaker A:The woman in the red dress tilted her head again, her wig lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no sound came.
Speaker A:The bell jingled as Jack stumbled outside.
Speaker A:He glanced back through the diner's window.
Speaker A:The people hadn't moved, but their eyes followed him like they knew he'd be back.
Speaker A:Like they were waiting for him to join them.
Speaker A:Jack scrambled into his car, his hands shaking as he turned the key.
Speaker A:The engine roared and he peeled out of the lot, gravel spraying onto the tires.
Speaker A:His mind raced.
Speaker A:Those people?
Speaker A:Dead.
Speaker A:They had to be dead.
Speaker A:But why were they here?
Speaker A:Staring, waiting?
Speaker A:And Terry?
Speaker A:What was she?
Speaker A:A victim, like she had claimed?
Speaker A:Or something else?
Speaker A:Something tied to that place, to those lost souls?
Speaker A:Half an hour passed, and a figure appeared on the shoulder, arm outstretched, Same torn jacket, same tangled hair.
Speaker A:Terry.
Speaker A:Jack's heart hammered in his chest.
Speaker A:He'd left her at the truck stop 30 miles back.
Speaker A:Nothing but a helicopter could have gotten her here this fast.
Speaker A:He slowed, his eyes locked on her as he passed.
Speaker A:Her face caught the headlights, pale eyes unblinking, boring into him with that same heavy expectation he'd seen in the diner.
Speaker A:Like she was collecting something, claiming something.
Speaker A:He floored the gas, the car surging into the night.
Speaker A:He glanced into the rearview mirror for a final look at her, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Speaker A:A cold breeze grazed his neck, sharp and unnatural, like a winter wind in the desert.
Speaker A:His blood turned to ice when he realized Terry was now sitting next to him in the passenger seat.
Speaker A:He shouted in alarm, involuntarily yanking the wheel and sending the car into a skid he barely recovered from.
Speaker A:Terry leaned close, her face inches from his.
Speaker A:Her eyes gleamed with a light that wasn't human, wasn't alive.
Speaker A:It was the same light he'd seen in the diner in those waiting eyes.
Speaker A:Stop the car, she whispered, her voice low and warm.
Speaker A:Waited with a feeling of inevitability.
Speaker A:How the hell.
Speaker A:Jack began, but before he could finish speaking, she lunged.
Speaker A:Her hands clamped onto the wheel, her grip as unyielding as iron.
Speaker A:The car veered toward the desert's edge, tires screaming.
Speaker A:Jack fought back and slammed onto brakes, the car finally skidding to a stop inches from the soft shoulder.
Speaker A:Get out.
Speaker A:He roared, shoving her door open and pushing her with all his strength.
Speaker A:She hit the ground but immediately scrambled to her feet.
Speaker A:But before she could leap back in, Jack slammed the door and floored the gas.
Speaker A:His pulse hammered in his ears as he drove, paying more attention to the mirrors than the road ahead.
Speaker A:He tried to piece it together.
Speaker A:Terry, the diner, Those people.
Speaker A:They weren't waiting for a meal.
Speaker A:They were waiting for her, for the one who collected them, who guided them to whatever came next.
Speaker A:And now she was after him.
Speaker A:The truck stop's neon glow reappeared ahead.
Speaker A:Impossible.
Speaker A:Jack breathed in disbelief.
Speaker A:It's 30 miles behind me.
Speaker A:The same Desert Oasis sign lit the night.
Speaker A:The same gravel lot held the same 18 wheelers and cars.
Speaker A:And standing in the lot, motionless, her silhouette framed by the diner's light, was Terry.
Speaker A:Behind her, the patrons in the diner stood with their pale faces pressed to the windows, their eyes fixed on Jack as he sped past.
Speaker A:They were waiting for him to join them.
Speaker A:Jack's foot held the accelerator tightly to the floor.
Speaker A:The speedometer needle quivered slightly as it swept past 100 miles per hour, his breath came in short pants, and dread squeezed his heart.
Speaker A:He watched the mirror.
Speaker A:Nothing but darkness.
Speaker A:Heaving a sigh, he looked forward.
Speaker A:But instead of empty highway, Terry stood directly in front of him.
Speaker A:Her figure was bright in the car's headlights, and he was an instant from slamming into her.
Speaker A:Jack reacted on instinct and slammed on the brakes while jerking the wheel to avoid.
Speaker A:The car skidded off the pavement and into soft sand, the tires instantly sinking.
Speaker A:Then the car was airborne.
Speaker A:Metal crunched, glass shattered, and it rolled five times before stopping in a mangled heap.
Speaker A:When Jack woke, he was standing on the side of the highway.
Speaker A:No car, no wreckage, no trace of the crash.
Speaker A:Just an empty road stretching into the night.
Speaker A:The desert was silent, no, the air cold and heavy with expectation.
Speaker A:Headlights pierced the dark.
Speaker A:A car slowed, then stopped.
Speaker A:Its engine purred softly as the passenger door creaked open.
Speaker A:Terry sat behind the wheel, her face pale, her eyes gleaming with an unnatural light.
Speaker A:Her lips curled into a faint, knowing smile, as if she had been waiting for him all along.
Speaker A:Get in, she said.
Speaker A:Jack Tanner thought he was merely extending a hand to a stranger, a fleeting gesture of humanity on a forsaken Arizona highway.
Speaker A:But in the shadowed depths of the desert night, where the veil between worlds wears thin, he found himself ensnared in a journey with no end.
Speaker A:The desert oasis, a silent refuge for souls adrift, marked him for its own.
Speaker A:For in that place where reality frays, some roads lead not to redemption, but to a guide who gathers the lost, her presence as eternal as the night itself, forever collecting those bound for the unknown.
Speaker A:If you're enjoying the stories, please support the podcast by buying me a coffee.
Speaker A:The link is in the episode's show notes, and I would greatly appreciate your support.
Speaker A:Now onto today's second story, which is the horizon.
Speaker A:The man awoke to the relentless slap of water against wood, the first sound that registered when he ascended from a black, dreamless void.
Speaker A:He lay sprawled on the deck of a small sailboat, the planks beneath him slick with spray and splintered by time.
Speaker A:His eyes burned, salt and sunlight searing his vision.
Speaker A:His head throbbed, a sharp, stabbing pain behind his eyes, and his throat was a desert, cracked and raw.
Speaker A:His name.
Speaker A:It was gone, a phantom slipping through his fingers along with any memory of how he had come to be here.
Speaker A:He staggered to his feet, gripping the boat's splintered railing to keep from collapsing.
Speaker A:The sky above was an endless expanse of gray clouds, heavy with the threat of rain pressing down on an empty ocean.
Speaker A:The horizon mocked him, a perfect circle of Nothingness.
Speaker A:The line where sea met sky.
Speaker A:Indistinguishable.
Speaker A:There was no land or ships, not even birds.
Speaker A:Birds.
Speaker A:Just him and the boat.
Speaker A:A weathered sloop with a single mast, its sails furled and its rigging a tangle of ropes.
Speaker A:He didn't understand.
Speaker A:He was wearing a tattered jacket, salt stiff jeans and boots too large for his feet, like they belonged to someone else.
Speaker A:He checked his pockets.
Speaker A:Empty.
Speaker A:No wallet, no keys, no phone.
Speaker A:Below deck, the cabin was a hollow shell, its bare walls offering only a plastic jug of water, a frayed coil of rope, a few feet of nylon fishing line, and a rusty nail wedged at a crack.
Speaker A:The outboard motor's fuel gauge was pinned at empty.
Speaker A:He was adrift, an inconsequential speck in a vast, indifferent sea, with no knowledge of sailing and.
Speaker A:And no idea how he'd gotten there.
Speaker A:Day 1 the first day was a blur of desperation.
Speaker A:He tore through the cabin, prying at loose boards with bleeding fingers, searching for anything.
Speaker A:A logbook, a map, a scrap of paper, anything that might explain his predicament.
Speaker A:Fruitless.
Speaker A:Search over.
Speaker A:He sat on the deck, clutching the water jug, its contents sloshing faintly.
Speaker A:He allowed himself a single sip, the water warm and bitter, barely easing the ache in his throat.
Speaker A:Hunger stirred, a low growl in his gut.
Speaker A:But the boat held no food.
Speaker A:He tried to summon his past.
Speaker A:Fragments flickered.
Speaker A:A city street wet with rain, the sound of a woman's laugh, sharp and fleeting, and a room cluttered with papers and the hum of a computer.
Speaker A:But they dissolved like smoke.
Speaker A:Was he a criminal, abandoned here as punishment?
Speaker A:A sailor who had lost his mind?
Speaker A:A husband, a father?
Speaker A:A nobody?
Speaker A:The questions aided him, each one more frustrating than the last.
Speaker A:He stared at the horizon, willing it to reveal something, anything.
Speaker A:But it remained a blank, unyielding wall.
Speaker A:Day 2 the storm announced itself with a low moan rising from the horizon.
Speaker A:The clouds had already swallowed the sun, and within minutes the wind howled, tearing at the furled sails.
Speaker A:Waves crashed over the bow, soaking him to the bone.
Speaker A:His jacket was instantly heavy and useless, but he didn't dare take it off and risk it being washed overboard.
Speaker A:If he survived the storm, he'd need it.
Speaker A:He clung to the helm so hard his hands ached, the boat pitching wildly in the churning sea.
Speaker A:Lightning cracked the sky, and in its brilliant strobe of blue white light, he saw it.
Speaker A:A shape beneath the water, long and sinuous, neither shark nor whale.
Speaker A:It circled the boat, a shadow that vanished as he tried to track it.
Speaker A:His heart pounded, a primal fear gripping him.
Speaker A:He wasn't alone, an hour into the storm, he was drenched and water sloshed in the bottom of the boat.
Speaker A:Realizing he was missing an opportunity, he scrambled to rig a makeshift rainwater collector with an old, cracked bucket he had found.
Speaker A:He used the rope to secure it to the base of the mast, drinking deeply before pouring the rest into the jug.
Speaker A:When it was full, the rain continued coming down in torrents, pounding the deck, and he caught some more water.
Speaker A:But when he lifted the bucket to pour into the jug, it cracked open and dumped the precious fresh water.
Speaker A:The storm worsened, and visibility was reduced to a few feet.
Speaker A:The wind grew stronger, driving stinging raindrops into his face.
Speaker A:A rogue wave washed over the boat, nearly carrying him into the ocean.
Speaker A:Desperate, he lashed himself to the mast with a rope, riding out the storm as it raged through the night.
Speaker A:Day 3 the storm passed by dawn, leaving the sea glassy and still.
Speaker A:The silence was worse than the storm's roar, a heavy, suffocating presence.
Speaker A:His water jug held a little more now, thanks to the rain, but it but it was barely enough to keep him alive.
Speaker A:Hunger gnawed, a constant, twisting pain.
Speaker A:He found the rusty nail and fashioned a crude fishing hook, tying it to the length of fishing line and tossing it into the water.
Speaker A:Hours passed before he felt a tug.
Speaker A:He pulled up a small fish, no larger than his palm.
Speaker A:Its silver scales glinted in the weak sunlight, and he stared at it, his stomach churning with needless.
Speaker A:He had no fire, no knife, so with shaking hands, he tore into the fish, gagging on a raw, slimy flesh.
Speaker A:The taste was foul, but it was sustenance, a thin thread keeping him tethered to life.
Speaker A:The thing in the water was still there, circling.
Speaker A:He felt its gaze even when he couldn't see it.
Speaker A:At dusk, he leaned over the rock railing, peering into the depths.
Speaker A:Two pale, unblinking eyes stared back, luminous in the fading light.
Speaker A:He stumbled back, his breath ragged, and curled up on the deck, one arm hooked around the mast.
Speaker A:DAY four he woke to a faint breeze and decided he had to try sailing.
Speaker A:He fumbled with the ropes, but he didn't know the first thing about sailing.
Speaker A:He watched the sails, trying to mimic movements he had seen in half remembered images.
Speaker A:Were these from movies?
Speaker A:Or perhaps a life he couldn't recall after hours of trial and error?
Speaker A:He unfurled the mainsail, catching just enough wind to nudge the boat forward.
Speaker A:It was slow and aimless, but movement felt like rebellion against the despair that gripped him.
Speaker A:He had no destination, no compass, only the faint hope that land might exist beyond the horizon.
Speaker A:He caught another fish that day, even smaller than the first.
Speaker A:He ate it raw, the taste no less revolting, his stomach cramping but accepting the meager meal, the creature snapped his fishing line.
Speaker A:That evening he'd felt a strong tug and leaned over to pull it in, hope flaring briefly, the line went painfully tight around his hand before snapping.
Speaker A:He fell back, heart pounding as the creature circled closer before disappearing into the depths.
Speaker A:He didn't try fishing again, the loss of the nail and nylon line a blow he couldn't Recover from.
Speaker A:Day 5 After the earlier storm, there hadn't been any rain to collect.
Speaker A:The jug was nearly empty, only a few sips left.
Speaker A:Hunger was a constant ache.
Speaker A:The too small fish he had eaten, too little to sustain him.
Speaker A:His body was weakening, his thoughts sluggish and his vision boring at the edges.
Speaker A:He tried the sails again, but the wind was fickle and the boat drifted aimlessly, carried by currents he couldn't control.
Speaker A:The creature was bolder now, bumping the hull at night with heavy, deliberate thuds that reverberated through the wood.
Speaker A:Each impact sent a jolt of fear through him, a reminder of his fragility.
Speaker A:He stopped, looking over the railing, terrified of those pale eyes, but he felt them always watching.
Speaker A:He talked to himself to stay sane, his voice a hoarse rasp.
Speaker A:You had a life, a name, a reason.
Speaker A:The words were a mantra, but they rang hollow.
Speaker A:The fragmented images came more frequently now.
Speaker A:City lights reflecting on wet pavement, a woman's face, makeup streaked by tears, a desk piled with files and a glowing computer screen.
Speaker A:But they were meaningless shards of a life he couldn't piece together.
Speaker A:Was he running from something?
Speaker A:Had he chosen this somehow?
Speaker A:The boat held no answers, and he began to wonder if he was already dead.
Speaker A:Was this hell, an eternal drift with no answers and no escape?
Speaker A:Day 6 the creature was relentless, circling tighter.
Speaker A:It was a presence that pressed on his mind and soul.
Speaker A:He saw it clearly once in the moonlight, a long, coiling flame form, its body glinting like wet stone, its surface rippling with unnatural patterns.
Speaker A:Its eyes locked onto his, and in them he saw a distorted reflection of his own face, hollow, accusing, knowing he was out of water now.
Speaker A:His lips cracked, bleeding when he touched them, and his tongue was swollen and useless.
Speaker A:Hunger had dulled to a constant gnawing pain, his body eating itself to survive.
Speaker A:He lay on the deck, too weak to stand for long, staring at the horizon.
Speaker A:The sails hung limp, the wind gone.
Speaker A:The boat drifted, a prisoner of the currents.
Speaker A:The creature bumped the hull again, harder this time, and he felt the Wood creak beneath him.
Speaker A:It was waiting, patient in a way only something ancient could be.
Speaker A:He began to see it in his mind even when his eyes were closed.
Speaker A:Those pale eyes, that coiling form, a manifestation of his guilt, his fear, his forgotten sins.
Speaker A:Day 7.
Speaker A:He woke to a faint shape on the horizon, a smudge of green against endless blue.
Speaker A:An island.
Speaker A:His heart surged, a flicker of hope piercing the fog of despair.
Speaker A:He scrambled to his feet, his body protesting with every movement, and tugged at the ropes.
Speaker A:Ropes.
Speaker A:The wind was faint, but he caught it, angling the sail toward the distant land.
Speaker A:He laughed, imagining solid ground and fresh water, but no sound escaped his parched throat.
Speaker A:But the currents were against him.
Speaker A:The boat veered, pulled by a sea that mocked his efforts.
Speaker A:He raged at the sea, at the creature he knew was there, just below the surface.
Speaker A:Surface.
Speaker A:Let me go, he rasped, his voice barely audible.
Speaker A:But the island grew smaller, its promise fading as the boat drifted in the wrong direction.
Speaker A:He collapsed on the deck, sobbing in surrender.
Speaker A:The island, a cruel mirage, vanished over the horizon.
Speaker A:He lay there, staring at the empty sky, the weight of hopelessness crushing him.
Speaker A:Day 8.
Speaker A:The days blurred after that time losing meaning in a haze of starvation and thirst.
Speaker A:His body was a husk, his skin stretched tight over bones, and his eyes sunken in their sockets.
Speaker A:His mind flickered like a dying candle, thoughts slipping away almost before he had them.
Speaker A:The creature never left.
Speaker A:Its presence a constant now.
Speaker A:It circled tighter, its shadow anew, surround him.
Speaker A:He saw its eyes again, always watching, always knowing.
Speaker A:They were no longer a reflection.
Speaker A:They were a judgment of a life he couldn't remember, but felt he'd failed.
Speaker A:He stopped fighting the sails, stopped looking for land.
Speaker A:The creature bumped the hull one last time.
Speaker A:A slow, deliberate thud put the boat on a new course.
Speaker A:The man lay on the deck in the burning sun, his lips moving silently, forming silent words.
Speaker A:I'm sorry, he mouthed.
Speaker A:He saw the woman's face one last time.
Speaker A:Her eyes filled with tears.
Speaker A:Then she faded away, leaving only the ocean and the creature.
Speaker A:Day nine.
Speaker A:He didn't know when the boat stopped moving.
Speaker A:His breaths were shallow.
Speaker A:His eyes closed against the merciless sun.
Speaker A:Then a hard impact from the creature on the bottom of the boat, followed by a solid jolt.
Speaker A:The boat rolled, and it stayed, not coming back to an even keel.
Speaker A:It was several moments before his battered mind recognized something was off.
Speaker A:Then Morgan.
Speaker A:More time passed before his eyes snapped open.
Speaker A:Staring in disbelief, he scrambled over the side of the boat and fell onto a beach of coarse sand.
Speaker A:Gentle waves lapped at him as he lay weeping.
Speaker A:There was the sound of rustling leaves, and he realized he was on the island, the same green smudge he had seen but hadn't been able to reach.
Speaker A:He pushed himself to his feet and looked out at the sea.
Speaker A:In the water, no more than 20 yards offshore, was the creature.
Speaker A:Its long, sinuous form broke the surface, its pale eyes fixed on him one last time.
Speaker A:It didn't approach, didn't threaten.
Speaker A:It lingered for a moment, then its body coiled gracefully and had disappeared into the depths.
Speaker A:A wave of realization hit him, heavy and disorienting.
Speaker A:The creature hadn't been stalking him to kill.
Speaker A:It had brought him here, guided the boat through currents he couldn't fight, and saved him from the sea's embrace.
Speaker A:The island was small, a crescent of sand fringed with dense, dark jungle.
Speaker A:He took a step toward the trees, hoping for water, for fruit, for answers.
Speaker A:But then came a sound that froze his blood.
Speaker A:A horrible roar, deep and guttural, erupted from the jungle, shaking the very ground beneath him.
Speaker A:It was no animal he could name, no creature of the world he knew.
Speaker A:Distant trees rustled violently, branches snapping as something massive moved closer, unseen but inevitable.
Speaker A:He stood rooted to the beach, his breath shallow, his heart pounding as the rain roar came again, louder, closer.
Speaker A:The stories presented are inspired by true events.
Speaker A:Names and locations may have been changed for privacy reasons.
Speaker A:New episodes are uploaded every Monday and Thursday.
Speaker A:If you're enjoying the journey into the strange, the mysterious, and the unexplained, be sure to press that Follow or Subscribe button and turn on all reminders so you're alerted whenever an episode drops.
Speaker A:Until next time, thank you for listening to When Reality Frays.
