Armchair Creeps

by the spectre collector

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about

A disturbing collection - featuring a mash-up of voices, sfx, drones, loops and blended music styles.

Strongly suggest you visit - thespectrecollector.blogspot.com.au

credits

released June 28, 2015

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all rights reserved

about

the spectre collector Australia

The spectre collector is a student of parapsychology and the supernormal.
He is a writer of children's books and brief, disturbing fiction for adults.
He is a musician, singer and narrator.

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Track Name: Bright Young Abomination
"Bright Young Abomination"

And there is hope in the eyes of a bright young abomination.

There, crouching in the shadows of a long dark street, is a monster. It is an abomination.

Hidden from hidden eyes for good reason, because to see it would cause instant madness.
Tonight there is hope in the eyes of this bright young abomination as it waits, forever patient.
Tonight it is in a state of dangerous formative transmutation, a transmutation of disorganised matter that will result in a metaphysical imponderable and a horror of intra-cosmic proportions

Down that long dark street walks a victim. Death awaits him. Ever patient.
It sweeps out, lock on, absorbs what is needed then returns to the shadows - the work of a moment, leaving the victim a dried husk curled up on the sidewalk of a long dark street. It has provided the abomination with much needed nourishment

It means that tonight, tonight there is hope in the eyes of a bright young abomination as it waits in the shadows of a long dark street. Ever patient.


***
Track Name: Strangers
"Strangers"

Felix Palmer’s mother was picking him up from kindergarten. His teacher was standing beside him when a strange woman walked up to them.
“Hello Mrs Palmer,” his teacher said.
“Hello. Hi Felix, are you ready?”
Felix looked up at the strange woman.
“You’re not my mother.”
The woman laughed and his teacher smiled and shook her head.

Felix was dragged to the car screaming. He continued to scream as the car drove down a strange road then turned into an unknown driveway that led to a house he had never seen before.
There, a strange man opened the front door, a man who claimed to be his father.

“Who are you?” Felix shouted at the strange man and woman. “I want to go home. You’re strangers!”
The man and the woman smiled. But their eyes were dead and their smiles became twisted.
“You are home Felix. We’re your parents now,” said the strange man and the strange woman together.

***
Track Name: The pram
"The pram"

Ghost – spectre – spirit – spook – shade – shadow – apparition – revenant - wraith

Last Wednesday, I was walking through the park across the road. It has swings, a slippery dip, a picnic table and there’s a bench set a little way off from the rest.

An old fashioned pram was parked beside the bench. Strange, there was no one else about, no mother or father or nanny, just the pram. The baby inside it was crying, in real distress.
I walked up to it and bent over to look. Just then the bawling stopped.

The pram was empty.

***
Track Name: Porker
"Porker"

The curtains drew back on life’s strange carnival and revealed the very worst to Toby Newman when he woke after the accident. It took him a long minute to realise that he had no arms, no legs and no body and that he was in fact just a head floating in a large glass jar of saline.

Panic set in when a man in a long white lab coat reached in with a large pair of forceps and pulled him dripping from the jar.

“You will live again Mr Newman,” said the man in the lab coat. “Only this time you will have a different body.”

Toby’s eyes flew open in horror when he saw the enormous sedated sow lying limp on the operating table. Around her neck was a line of carefully drawn ink dots. Beside her lay a fine-toothed bone saw.

And the world suddenly went black for Toby Newman.

***
Track Name: John Fenn
"John Fenn"

‘My name is John Fenn.’

A week ago I keyed my name into the search field of my browser and hit Enter.

There were thousands of matches for the name John Fenn. They lived all over the world. They were doctors, surf shop owners, government officials, sanitary workers, lecturers, marketing consultants, sex workers, killers, actors, unemployed and - and they all looked like me.

‘Impossible!’ I mumbled.

Hour after hour I checked their profiles and each John Fenn shared the same date and same year of birth. All the photos of all the John Fenns showed the same unmistakable physical characteristics.

‘But … our faces are all virtually identical.’

‘We are John Fenn.’

Until this morning.

I searched my name online again and noticed that obituaries, death notices, were appearing for John Fenns. Lots of them. New ones were popping up every few minutes. There were tributes and funeral announcements. More and more of them. Dearly loved. Loving husband of. Passed away suddenly. Peacefully at home. Unexpectedly gone. Taken from his beloved.

Page after page, it went on. I was transfixed.

This afternoon I started getting chest pains.
I don’t feel at all well.

‘My name is John Fenn. I think I am about to die.’

***
Track Name: The Mourning Room (Conversations)
"The Mourning Room" - (Conversations)

Other - Nanna lived in an old funeral home.

Interviewer - There was a room in the home that scared you, wasn’t there? The Mourning Room?

Other - Yeah, Nanna used the Mourning Room to store her huge doll collection – they were all laid out around the walls. And in the very centre of the room there was a small children’s bed set up.

Interviewer - Tell me about the time that you and Toby went to stay.

Other - Sure. Well he slept in slept in the Mourning Room. Better him than me I remember thinking – Nanna’s dolls were really creepy and the room felt sad and full of bad feelings.

Interviewer - So Toby was only a little boy at the time wasn’t he? He woke in the middle of the night. What happened?

Other - Toby came out to the veranda where I was sleeping. I remember, his face was all red and blown up into an oval shape, like a doll. He could barely see out of his eyes. Wouldn’t talk for three days, not until we left Nanna’s.

Interviewer - And what did Toby tell you when he eventually spoke?

Other - He said … he saw a tall lady with no eyes holding hands with all the dolls in the room and they all danced around his bed. He said they all … touched him … on the head … and the tall lady asked him for his eyes.

Interviewer – Did you and Toby ever go back to Nanna’s again?

Other – No. The funeral home burnt down. Nanna’s body was found in the Morning Room on the small children’s bed. And all her porcelain dolls were piled up on top of her.

***
Track Name: Lost
"Lost"

After Friday night drinks at work I caught the late train and fell into a deep sleep almost immediately.

When I woke up it was daytime.

I was in strange town where everyone spoke a language that I was unfamiliar with and when I saw my reflection in a shop window I was not the same person I had been before I went to sleep.


***
Track Name: He was in the bathroom shaving
"He was in the bathroom shaving"

(There are some things that can never be explained. Sarah Hume discovered this one morning in The Country House while she and her husband, Dan, were getting ready to go downstairs for breakfast.)

He was in the bathroom shaving. The door was open just a crack so I could see him standing in front of the mirror, face half-covered in soap. The same sweet, square-jawed face I had covered in kisses the night before.

The sound the cutthroat razor made as it scraped across his whiskers set my teeth on edge. It was an awful sort of dead, white noise.

I heard him swish the razor around and around, cutting through the basin water.

Then it happened. Like an extreme camera flash. A blinding burst of white light exploded out of the bathroom. No noise, just a brightness that blinded me, confused me.

I called out - “Dan? Dan, are you okay?”
Silence.
“Honey?”
Nothing.
“Hey …” I pushed open the bathroom door. Wha …

The man shaving in front of the bathroom mirror was not my husband. It didn’t even look like him. He turned to me, his face half-covered in soap.
“Hi honey, you okay?” he asked.

“Where’s … Dan?” I mumbled.
The stranger just shrugged and went back to his shaving.


***
Track Name: The hung boy
"The hung boy"

Ghost – spectre – spirit – spook – shade – shadow – apparition – revenant - wraith

Up in the backyard behind my old house there was a big tree, just made for climbing.

When I was young I used to see the stretched, ragged form of a child hanging in the branches. I’d look away, blink, look back and it would be gone.

Years later my mother let it slip that the previous owners of our house had a little boy who accidentally hung himself from the big tree.

He had climbed quite high when his cardigan got caught in the branches. Lost his footing and the cardigan wrapped around his little neck and strangled him.

As he hung in mid air, kicking out wildly, his mother was indoors baking a teacake.

***