Lot 074 : I Was Commissioned To Write A Horror Story

Today's episode is sponsored by I Know What You Did Last Summer.

Get it now on Digital.

When five friends inadvertently cause a deadly car accident, they cover up their involvement and make a pact to keep it a secret rather than face the consequences.

A year later, their past comes back to haunt them, and they're forced to confront a horrifying truth.

Someone knows what they did last summer and is hell-bent on revenge.

As one by one, the friends are stalked by a killer.

They discover this happened before, so they turn to two survivors of the legendary Southport Massacre of 1997 for help.

Starring Madeline Klein, Chase Sue Wonders, Jonah Hauer King, with Freddie Prince Jr., and Jennifer Love Hewitt.

I know what you did last summer is a perfect summer slasher, says Jordan Cruciolo of NPR.

Your summer is not over yet.

Don't miss a killer movie night at home.

I heard a knock at the back just to open the door and see this lying on the ground with a rather ominous letter that said,

It's your problem now.

A small black notebook wherein you will find cryptic, maddening words jotted down in a hurried hand.

Disturbing sketches.

As you flip through, you will notice something odd.

A page.

Missing.

Torn clean out.

As though someone wanted to erase part of a story.

Or Or perhaps,

perhaps,

something far worse.

Let's put pen to paper for this one called,

I was commissioned to write a horror story.

Before we begin, I want to point out some of the customers whose names have been etched in brass on this beautiful plaque I had made above the front desk.

These are some of the members of the inner circle of the antiquarium.

We go by the Obsidian Covenant.

Recent initiates include Heather McClue,

Zach Russell, Hannah, Mr.

Grimmel,

Renata Hernandez, Esme Praus,

Celtic Scorpion, Maya White,

Oda Saku.

We are ever appreciative of your devotion to the Order.

Go to the Obsidian Covenant.com to receive the sacrament.

Now,

where were we?

Oh, yes.

Welcome to the Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings

and Odd Goings On.

I was commissioned to write a horror story.

I was given some strange guidelines to follow.

I'm starting a new channel because they often ask to use my work for free.

And sometimes, to add insult to injury, they're not even narrating, but just using AI.

I was going to close the message when the narrator followed up with.

You will be paid a flat fee of $300 per story.

That piqued my interest.

Why so high?

And was informed that I would have to sell all the rights to my story.

It would belong wholly to the Scream Collector, the channel, and I wouldn't be able to reprint or repost anywhere.

If I accepted the commission, a list of guidelines would be emailed to me.

Uh.

How long do the stories have to be?

2,000 to 4,000 words.

The stories would be released in a kind of anthology featured around the fictional town of Pinefell.

I was the first author contacted, but if the channel was successful, the anthology would be expanded to include other writers.

The stories would all be published by the Scream Collector, or TSC as the name was displayed on the channel logo, with the conceit being that they were all true stories being shared by the titular collector of Pinefell.

In short, I wouldn't get any writing credit since my stories would all be penned by the collector.

$300 per story was decent enough, but selling all right?

I mean, not even getting my name attached.

I messaged back that I'd have to think about it.

TSC said, of course, but not to take too long because they were contacting other writers and I might lose out on the opportunity.

In the end, I accepted because, well, because of the money, obviously.

I mean, how many times had I let my stories be narrated for free in exchange for exposure?

And how had that panned out for me?

Now, this time, I'd take money.

Given how stereotypical the channel looked, they only had one video introducing the town of Pinefell with a spooky and obviously AI

voice, it didn't seem like I'd have much room for creativity.

I'd just be writing formulaic, trope-filled, utterly generic creepypastas.

I was sent a contract in standard legalese about what we'd discussed.

I'd sell all rights for $300 per story to belong to TSC, the scream collector.

After I signed and set back the contract, they sent me the guidelines.

This

is where things got

weird.

I was asked to write the story in a Google Doc.

I'd be sent a link to the shared doc, but I wouldn't be the primary owner and I would have no power to change the settings or anything like that.

The document would belong to the channel.

I found this a bit controlling, but I was told, since all the stories were set in this shared universe, in this small fictional town of Pinefell,

and since I was giving over all rights and it would belong to the channel, they'd rather have it in their own Google Doc.

And it made sense, I guess.

And they had some standard stipulations, like 2 to 4k words, minimal dialogue, PG-13, mild swearing, but no F-bombs.

All pretty normal for a story that would wind up being used as a narration.

But after this part,

well, I'll just.

I'll just share them verbatim.

Okay.

The remaining guidelines were as follows:

Write only in the Google Doc and not in any other document or file.

You may only write in the Google Doc between the hours of 6 and 8 p.m.

Do not make any edits or changes outside of those hours

somewhere in the story include the phrase

Do not speak this phrase aloud

before writing check your closet

While writing be sure your door is locked

after writing if the story is not yet finished, say aloud, Scream Collector, do not come.

There is nothing to collect.

Then close the document.

If the story is finished,

say aloud.

Scream Collector, come and collect.

And type Finn at the end of the document before closing it.

This was all

so bizarre.

I mean, I assumed it was some sort of weird roleplay based on the channel concept, but the contract hadn't mentioned anything about it, so I messaged back TSC.

These aren't real guidelines, right?

You don't seriously want me to only write between 6 and 8 p.m.

The guidelines are part of a team effort for the universe we're making, so yes, everyone involved needs to play along, writers included.

That's why we're paying such a high price.

And you'll be expected to follow the theme we'll send through each story.

Write between 6 and 8 p.m.

Follow all guidelines.

You only have to be in character while writing.

The rest of your day is yours to be OOC.

That's why the limited time frame.

So

do you still want the commission?

Yes or no?

What if I break the guidelines?

Your payment is contingent on delivering a story that complies with guidelines.

If your story doesn't meet our guidelines, you won't get paid.

Or you'll be paid at a reduced rate, or otherwise penalized.

Do you still mark the commission?

Yes or no?

In the end, obviously I took the commission, and the very first story I was asked to write, ironically, was a rule story, the most popular kind on YouTube and creepypasta websites.

Here is the prompt I was sent.

The protagonist is a visitor to an Airbnb in Pinefell who finds a strange list of rules.

They disappear after breaking a rule.

Their body eventually found dismembered in suitcases and lunch boxes hidden around a playground.

Stories should include three to seven rules.

See attached playground photo for inspiration.

I opened the attached photo of an old abandoned playground and tall grass with a bright yellow spiraling plastic slide.

A rule story, really?

The most basic spaghetti of creepypastas.

I finally came up with some rules after googling Airbnbs and looking at some of the rules hosts often have for their guests.

I tweaked a few normal rules to make them seem a little off.

Jotted them down in a small black notebook I keep at my desk and was about to type them into the Google Doc until I realized it was only 11 a.m.

Per the guidelines.

I couldn't begin writing until 6 p.m.

Such a stupid, arbitrary rule.

Well, it seemed bad form to break it immediately, especially given the nature of the story I was writing, and I wasn't getting paid until I actually delivered said story.

At 6 p.m., I was about to finally start drafting when I remembered the check your closet rule.

Such nonsense.

Getting up to stalk over to the closet and fling open the creaky door.

My one-bedroom apartment has two closets.

One with sliding doors in the bedroom, the other one a coat closet in the living room.

Then I plonked my butt into my desk chair and opened the Google Doc and then remembered the lock your door rule.

So

with a sigh, I got up to check.

But I generally always kept my door locked, and today was no exception.

So I sat back down and started typing.

The story came easily.

I don't know if it was because of the two-hour limit or what, but my fingers flew.

And before long, the entire story was finished.

I even included the phrase, Nakwi Fei Him Chak O Yurt.

Without any awkwardness.

Just had it scrawled in a room in the Airbnb, adding to the overall creepy vibe as the protagonist settles in.

in.

Once or twice while writing I spotted the cursor for another viewer on the Google Doc.

Soon enough I finished writing.

Hey Scream Collector, come and collect.

I typed Finn.

Instantly the story

vanished.

The screen was just blank.

The entire Google Doc wiped.

I started to freak out, not because I feared it was supernatural.

I had already seen the other cursor on there, but

because my two hours of hard work, all those words, how could I prove that I actually

just then I got an email?

The money was in my PayPal account.

I'd just been paid $300 for the 2,500 words I'd written.

I also got a new message with the next prompt.

A couple who are lost in the woods just outside Pinefell meet a skin walker.

At the end, only their skins are found.

Attached was a photo of some generic pine forest along hilly trails.

I sigh at the prompt.

Not only another cliché, but a culturally appropriative one.

Was every story going to be something off the top 10 tropes list?

What next?

A grizzle detective and some unsolved murders, a bunch of kids meet Slenderman.

Still,

money was money.

The next day I started writing at 6 p.m., after checking the closets and locking the door.

I didn't finish the story though, because I've never been a big fan of Lost in the Woods stories.

I like nature.

I find it beautiful and relaxing.

Not scary.

Not to mention I wasn't sure what to do instead of a skinwalker.

For now, I was just going with generic predatory monster, but after getting halfway through the draft, it just wasn't creepy enough, and I erased almost all of it.

The time was 7:58, so I logged off.

I fell asleep thinking about how I could make this Lost in the Woods concept genuinely scary, and around 2 a.m.

I woke up with an idea.

I went to the Google Doc and added a description of an unseen predator that devours the insides of its prey, leaving only the skins like the husks of fruit.

I was pretty groggy, not fully aware until I suddenly noticed

the lines I just added were being deleted.

Someone was on here, and

they erased the words I wrote as I was writing.

My heart thudded in my chest.

Suddenly, I was wide awake.

I

remembered the rule about not writing except between 6 and 8 p.m.

It seemed like some sort of ridiculous roleplay, but the fact that they were actually enforcing it

that was creepy.

I closed my laptop and went back to bed.

Rather strict rules in place, don't you think?

The trials and tribulations of being a ghost writer, I suppose.

Something tells me you should stick to them.

Please excuse me while I take this call.

Make yourself at home, and I'll be right back.

Today's episode is sponsored by I Know What You Did Last Summer.

Get it now on digital.

When five friends inadvertently cause a deadly car accident, they cover up their involvement and make a pact to keep it a secret rather than face the consequences.

A year later, their past comes back to haunt them, and they're forced to confront a horrifying truth.

Someone knows what they did last summer, and is hell-bent on revenge.

As one by one, the friends are stalked by a killer.

They discover this happened before, so they turn to two survivors of the legendary Southport massacre of 1997 for help.

Starring Madeline Klein, Chase Sue Wonders, Jonah Howard King with Freddie Prince Jr., and Jennifer Love Hewitt.

I know what you did last summer is a perfect summer slasher, says Jordan Crucciolo of NPR.

Your summer is not over yet.

Don't miss a killer movie night at home.

Why, hello there.

You've reached the antiquarium.

If you wish to leave a message, please do so with the town and have a great day.

Um, hello.

This is Brittany.

I bought a beautiful jeweled cat collar from the shop last week.

I keep trying to find the antiquarium, but

the building isn't there.

I know that's the address I went to.

I had it in my DPS on my phone.

There's no bulgo vlog.

It's just as if the building never existed.

Anyway, I was hoping there was someone I could get in touch with about returning this collar.

I know that there's no refunds and no returns, but I really think this one is messed up.

I really liked it when I first saw it, but ever since I put it on my cat, he's been summoning bad spirits into my house.

I can hear him speaking on a human voice.

He's got a human man voice, and he's coming out and

having demons mess with me in my house.

It's like my cat wants me dead.

I tried to take the cover off, but it won't come off.

I even used an electric turkey charmer.

It's like it's fused around his neck.

And when I tried to put him outside, he just pounded on the door and screamed like a fancy until I let him back in.

I'm scared.

Please, can someone call me back?

I just want my cat back to normal.

Please help.

So sorry about the interruption.

Someone making arrangements to deliver another malevolent piece.

They asked for you by name, but I told them you were indisposed at the moment.

Said they were on their way over.

And they tried to catch you before you left.

So we better get back to the story so that doesn't happen.

Trust me,

you don't want to cross paths with this...

thing

looking for you.

Let's get back into it.

Shall we?

I fell asleep thinking about how I could make this Lost in the Woods concept genuinely scary, and around 2 a.m.

I woke up with an idea.

I went to the Google Doc and added a description of an unseen predator that devours the insides of its prey, leaving only the skins like the husks of fruit.

I was pretty groggy, not fully aware until I suddenly noticed

the lines I just added were being deleted.

Someone was on here, and

they erased the words I wrote as I was writing.

My heart thudded in my chest.

Suddenly, I was wide awake.

I.

I remembered the rule about not writing except between 6 and 8 p.m.

It seemed like some sort of ridiculous roleplay, but the fact that they were actually enforcing it?

That was creepy.

I closed my laptop and went back to bed.

I just ended up lying awake wondering,

who was up watching the Google Doc?

And why had my lines been deleted?

Did that mean I wouldn't get paid?

All the next day, I kept thinking about that other cursor on the Google Doc.

It was there again at 6 p.m.

when I finally sat down to write, popping in and out, though it didn't actually make any edits this time.

It took me four days, but I finally finished the story.

Not my best work, but scary enough, I supposed.

I typed the last paragraph, describing the gory, discarded skins, the painted pink fingernails now stained with blood.

And then I typed thin right at 8 p.m.

and called out to the collector.

And just like before, the story vanished and money appeared in my account.

Apparently, my breach wasn't so terrible as to prevent being paid, though I did get a warning in my inbox.

A single line reminder.

Only right in the Google Doc between the hours of 6 and 8 p.m.

Next came a prompt about some kids encountering a slender man-esque figure.

Called it.

Once again, I struggled with this calm and cliché.

How do I make it interesting?

Maybe instead of a tall figure, I'd make the baddies short and squat, while still keeping the disappearing kids theme.

I made a few rough sketches in my notebook.

Unfortunately, even though I was eager to write, I had a lot of other things scheduled between 6 and 8 that week.

When I messaged the TSC to ask if the two-hour window could be shifted, I was told no, but that I could take up to two weeks to finish the story and that would be fine.

I was able to finish the story in the following week and got my payment.

The next prompt was the absolute worst.

I almost refused to write it.

The narrator works as a security guard on the night shift, and

strange things have begun happening.

And yet, the pay was fantastic for the amount of effort I was putting in, which was almost none.

By now, the first couple narrations had already come out with the third on the way.

And the audience honestly seemed to enjoy the stories, no matter how trope-filled and unoriginal.

So, fine.

Whatever.

I was kind of glad my name wasn't attached now, because if it were, I'd have to spell it S-E-L-L-O-U-T.

But all my hatred of these tropes led me to rebel in a different way.

I stopped following all the guidelines.

For example, I refused to check my closets.

Would I still be paid?

And I began writing at 5:58 p.m.

Everything I typed at 5.58 was erased and I got another warning.

But the checking the closet thing didn't have any impact.

I realized nobody was actually watching me check my closets.

I could ignore that rule and the door one.

The only thing being monitored was the Google Doc.

I started breaking the rules pretty regularly after that, just as a small act of rebellion.

Even refusing to include the signature statement in my latest story.

It got added in after.

I heard it in the narration.

Anyway, I still got paid, but with a 10% deduction for forgetting the phrase.

While I was writing these shittiest of creepypastas, part of me kept wondering, what's the point of having these silly rules?

Why check the closet?

Why call out to the collector?

I still did this one because I thought it was funny.

What was the significance of the weird, unpronounceable phrase I always had to include?

If I said it aloud, would it summon a demon?

I did say it aloud, and nope.

But maybe that was because I couldn't pronounce it correctly.

Was it all just roleplay?

Were the creators of Pinefell that invested in their own little universe?

I suppose that must be it.

Eccentric, but then again, plenty of podcasts have their own unique thing where listeners get to play along.

All part of the fun.

At least that's.

what I thought at the time.

Until I woke up one morning and saw a local news article on my Reddit feed.

You have to understand, I'm a hermit.

I avoid social interaction as much as possible, and since I work remotely, I rarely hear about stuff happening.

Especially lately, I've been tuning out the world, and when I'm not writing or working, I'm playing video games or watching YouTube.

Local news wasn't something I paid attention to.

But the article that popped up on my Reddit feed caught my eye because it was so sensational.

A man's dismembered body was found in a suitcase and lunch boxes scattered around an abandoned playground.

My first thought was...

Shit.

Was this crime inspired by my writing?

That had been the very first story, and it had debuted on the channel a couple weeks prior, so it was definitely possible.

I went to the narration itself and found that

while initially it had a little over a thousand views, it was now getting a lot more attention because apparently someone had noticed the connection to the news.

I clicked a link to another article about the killing, and this one included a photograph of the playground where the suitcase had been found.

As my eyes darted across the image, my heart plummeted.

It was a different photo, but

the tall grass, the stained yellow plastic slides spiraling down from the playset.

I recognize this play area.

Fuck.

That was enough for me to reach out to the authorities.

After reviewing the stories on the Scream Collector channel, the police discovered that there was a second story with striking similarities to recent murders.

The bodies of two missing hikers had been found at a state park.

Or rather,

their skins had been found

piled beside the trail like

husks of fruit.

And what had stumped investigators was the fact that one of the victims had nails painted pink.

The sister-in-law of the victim with painted nails said she initially didn't believe it was her sister's remains because her sister never wore nail polish.

Never.

The investigators concluded the polish was applied post-mortem,

but couldn't understand why.

Now they knew.

It was so that their bodies matched the story.

I wrote,

It makes me sick.

I'm terrified they'll find more victims, children from the Slenderman story, or a security guard from the overnight shift story, and it's

my fault.

My words were the inspiration.

So let this serve as a warning to other writers.

Be careful about accepting commissions.

Ghosts aren't real and strange rules won't kill you.

And most of what you hear in horror films or narration isn't true.

But I'm making this recording which I will be sharing to YouTube and TikTok and everywhere I can to warn you that there are truly sick people out there.

People who do their best to make horror stories become a reality.

The Scream Collector hasn't been caught yet.

I just want to forget my part in all this and get on with my life.

Just pretend that I had nothing to do with any of it.

But I know

I need to share the truth.

A warning.

So.

I'm broadcasting this.

Everywhere and anywhere.

To warn people of the danger.

Oh, and

there's one more thing I haven't told you yet.

That weird phrase I had to add into every story?

The one I got penalized for leaving out?

The investigators pretty quickly pieced together what it actually meant.

I feel so stupid for not having seen it myself, especially when I wrote it in my notebook.

The investigators believe it was meant for them, and for listeners in general, and maybe for me too, and

that it was a taunt by the scream collector.

It sounded like a foreign language because it was played backwards in the narrations, but if you play it forwards or in reverse, the written phrase it says,

Try to catch me if you can.

It's been four weeks since I made that recording.

I chickened out and didn't share it.

But I just got a link to a new Google Doc and a message with a new prompt.

Write a story about a serial killer who leaves clues in creepypostas.

Eventually, investigators track down the clues to the writer.

But when they show up at the writer's home, they find the writer already dead.

A black notebook sitting open on the desk, and the last page of the story stuffed into the writer's mouth.

See attached photo for inspiration.

I open the photo.

It's a picture of my living room.

My notebook sitting on the desk.

Fuck me.

I'm typing now.

I've got the Google Doc open.

It's currently...

6 p.m., and I'm praying that if I seem to be typing like it's another story, the collector won't come for me yet.

I started recording again and am live streaming now, broadcasting from my living room.

Fuck me, I'm wondering about those rules I thought were random.

Like how the nonsense phrase was a hint: try to catch me if you can.

And I wonder

if the other rules

also

hinted at something I've been too slow to figure out.

I wonder why

I was told

to always

check my closet.

When you are down with the blues, it means that the devil got under your shoes.

You'll find them easy to lose.

Dancing the devil away.

Just grin and don't let him in.

Whenever he tries to get under your skin, pick off your feet and begin.

Dancing the devil away.

The evil spirit and the devil.

And the devil.

and the devil

and the devil

skip evil

Thank you for your patronage.

Hope you enjoyed your new relic as much as I've enjoyed passing along its sordid history.

It does come with our usual warning, however.

Absolutely no refunds, no exchanges, and we won't be held liable for anything that may or may not occur while the object is in your possession.

If you've got an artifact with mysterious properties, perhaps it's accompanied by a history of bizarre and disturbing circumstances,

Maybe you'd be interested in dropping it and its story by the shop to share with other customers.

Please reach out to antiquariumshop at gmail.com.

A member of our team will be in touch.

Till next time, we'll be waiting for you whenever you close your eyes in the space between sleep and dream.

During regular business hours, of course, or by appointment, only for you,

our our

best customer.

You have a good night now.

The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings, Lot 074.

I was commissioned to write a horror story.

I was given some strange guidelines to follow.

Written by Quincy Lee, starring Romy Evans as the writer, Nicholas Goroff as the scream collector, featuring Stephen Knowles as the antique dealer.

Engineering production and sound design by Trevor Shand.

Theme music by the Newton Brothers.

Additional music by COAG and Vivek Abishek.

The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings is created and curated by Trevor and Lauren Shand.

Follow us on Instagram and Twitter at Antiquarium Pod.

Call the Antiquarium at 646-481-7197.

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