Lot 095 : I Invented A New Color. It’s Going To Kill A Lot Of People…

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This visit to the Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings is brought to you by Progressive Insurance.

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

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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.

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Welcome, Traveler.

Come in out of the dark and into the antiquarium.

You've arrived at just the right moment.

Here, resting under glass, is a simple jar of pigment.

But I would urge you not to gaze too long at its hue.

Some colors belong to the world we know.

Others are borrowed from somewhere else entirely.

The artist who worked with this pigment believed he had made a discovery.

But creation is a dangerous game, isn't it?

Sometimes what we bring into the world has been waiting for us all along.

This is lot number 095

and with it the account of an artist who found that his work contained far more than pigment and brushstrokes.

It is called

I Invented a New Color.

It's going to kill a lot of people.

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 Kim Lecky,

Vibalet,

JD,

Orion Lopez,

Clara Franklin,

Dasia Muta,

Lord Mazrim,

and

Evil Below.

We are ever appreciative of your devotion to the Order.

Go to theObsidiancovenant.com to receive the sacrament.

Now,

where were we?

Oh, yes.

Welcome to the Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings

and Odd Goings On.

I invented a new color.

It's gonna kill a lot of people.

All the trouble I've caused,

the pain,

the death,

it all started

with a breakthrough.

I'm an artist and painter by trade, but also an inventor.

I like to spend some of my spare time experimenting with creating new colors.

It's a hobby, but I also make some money on the side.

Primarily through a shade of purple I made.

That is marginally popular as well as an ultra-dark shade of black.

That one's fun because it looks really weird in everyday life to see a coffee mug or a t-shirt that is unnaturally colorless like a black hole or something.

But this new one,

this new one's different.

I call it

Grupel.

The name is dumb, I know.

But it's got my last name buried in it and it's a combination of the words green and purple.

That makes sense because that's what the color is.

Except that doesn't describe it well enough.

Because people have combined those two colors before and it just turns into an ugly brownish-black barf sort of hue that nobody would want to use for anything.

But this

is different.

It retains the essence of purple and green and makes something never before seen and amazing with them in the process.

It's like looking at a rainbow for the first time.

Startling and otherworldly.

But since I created it,

I've been

seeing things.

And they're all the same color.

Grupal.

My laptop, for instance, I turned it off because the colors had begun to look strange.

And the problem had proved to be uncorrectable.

That was when I saw movement in the corner of the blank screen.

The reflection of something sliding just out of view at the edge.

I looked over my shoulder

and saw there was nothing there.

I left my room and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face.

The computer could be fixed.

I thought to myself, I'd just take it over to my friend Dave's place since he always knew what to do with computer problems.

In the reflection of the bathroom mirror, I saw the tub was no longer the old-fashioned shade of horrible out-of-fashion pink that it had been before,

the one it had always been since I moved in.

It was now

purple.

It was as if someone had come into my home and replaced my bathtub with someone else's.

But of course that was impossible.

My hands started to tremble, my heartbeat quickening as it felt like the world began to turn sideways on its axis.

I tried to calm myself down, focusing on my breathing, focusing on anything that wasn't the fucking bathtub.

The bathroom mirror was dirty, so I decided to quickly clean it to distract myself.

As I finished wiping it off,

I saw something in the corner of the glass surface, slipping out of view just as my eyes noticed it

just like earlier with the computer monitor

the slender pointed tail

of a lizard

that was how it looked anyways

i went out into the hallway to check if a stray komodo dragon had snuck into my house somehow but again

there was nothing

I couldn't help but think that the color of whatever it was looked familiar, though.

Whatever it was, it was colored purple.

I got the impression of something looming and large, crafty and elusive.

Its skin rough and thick.

Suddenly it was there again,

at the periphery of my vision.

But upon inspection,

I saw only empty space.

Nearby,

I could sense something enormous and awful,

like a stormhead rolling in.

Deciding to get out of my house, I left with my laptop to walk over to Dave's place.

It was only a few blocks over.

It was a sunny day outside, humid and clear.

I immediately wished I'd brought my sunglasses, but decided not to go back for them.

It was a short walk.

As I ambled down the street, lugging my heavy old laptop,

I started to have more and more troubles

seeing.

The sun was so bright, I found myself blinking repeatedly, then having more and more difficulty opening my eyes each time.

My vision became reduced to momentary glimpses between each blink.

until my eyes simply forced themselves closed.

I couldn't see it all anymore.

The only thing I could see was the new color I had created.

It filled my vision instead of the usual darkness when I blinked.

I didn't know where I was,

only that I had been walking on the sidewalk a moment before.

There was no shade nearby and I was stranded, completely blind in the middle of my walk.

Unfortunately for me, I had unwittingly crossed into the roadway and was no longer on the sidewalk, but standing in the middle of a busy intersection.

Suddenly, someone tackled me, landing on me and sending me flying.

I heard a car's tires squealing and smelled burnt brake pads.

A loud bang and the crunching of metal and breaking of glass.

Then people were yelling at me.

They were saying, What the hell were you doing standing in the road like that?

You should be dead.

Came the chorus from the people all around.

I was in the ditch, and my vision came back suddenly, and I had no trouble seeing, as fear and adrenaline took over my body.

Two cars were mangled and wrapped up together in the roadway, where they crashed into each other.

The drivers were both bloodied and unconscious in their seats, and people were pulling them out as a fire started to spread from the engine of one vehicle.

I couldn't see!

I couldn't fucking see!

I screamed, but nobody listened.

The police came and took a statement from me.

Then gave me a tongue-lashing I would never forget.

I told them it was sunblindness.

Which was true, I suppose.

And they let me off without a charge of public endangerment causing bodily harm.

Thankfully, everyone survived.

If it hadn't been for the stranger who pushed me out of the way, I would have been dead.

But he wasn't too impressed with my behavior either.

My laptop was a write-off, and I limped home with a quickly swelling, twisted ankle.

When I got back there,

I could sense it waiting for me.

It was like I could hear its breathing.

The creature I had brought forth with my invention.

Terrified, I decided I needed to destroy it.

There was something wrong with that color.

It wasn't meant for this world.

I could tell that already.

The experimental batches of Gropel were in my studio, in the basement, and I rushed down there.

Forgive me.

They say colors can stir memory or unlock emotion.

But this

shade whispered to its maker.

It urged him on.

Tell me, if you discovered something the world had never seen,

would you share it?

Or burn it before it ever saw the light?

Give it a bit of thought while I go and grab a sketch sketch pad and some brushes.

For some reason, I feel

inspired.

This visit to the Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings is brought to you by Progressive Insurance.

Do you ever find yourself playing the budgeting game, shifting a little money here, a little there, and hoping it all works out?

Well, with the Name Your Price tool from Progressive, you can be a better budgeter and potentially lower your insurance bill too.

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Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and Affiliates.

Price and coverage match limited by state law.

Not available in all states.

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

hi i bought a carved chair uh an antique really

very old you said

very powerful you promised

i bought this throne really for my husband

He's a fan of antiques, history, ancient history.

Well, I gave it to him.

I gifted it to him.

And shortly after, he is

hospitalized

in a coma, they say.

They don't know why.

They don't know when or if he'll ever wake.

But I bought this from your shop, and I'm really mad.

I'm really upset.

Your reputation,

I thought he would be dead, right?

I didn't want him around.

A coma?

I was really hoping for more.

I'm very disappointed.

I don't know if I'll shop again at your place.

End of messages.

Yes, yes.

Let us return.

The artist.

The pigment.

And what waited inside it.

Shall we?

There was something wrong with that collar.

It wasn't meant for this world.

I could tell that already.

The experimental batches of Gropel were in my studio, in the basement, and I rushed down there.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I felt the thing following behind me.

I was too afraid to look back.

As I raced down the stairs, I nearly tripped, my bad ankle giving out on me as I hobbled down the wooden steps.

My studio was just ahead, and I raced inside and went to my locked cabinet where I stored all my experimental work.

The paintings I had done in the new color were there, as well as the jars containing the hue itself.

It was a shame to destroy it, but it had to be done.

It wasn't supposed to be here.

I should never have brought it into existence.

Pouring paint down the drain is a really bad idea, but I was desperate.

So I went over to the sink with the small test batch and opened it, tilting the container to dump it out.

But then

something,

a voice, stopped me, and and my skin went ice cold,

goosebumps spreading across it.

Hissed the thing from behind me.

From the shadows.

It wasn't real.

The monster wasn't real.

I just had to pour out the paint.

But something was stopping me.

My eyes were drawn to the test paintings I had done.

One of them stood out among the rest, and I found myself setting down the jar of paint and looking at it.

I didn't remember painting it.

The image showed a beast colored vividly in purple.

It shone and reflected the light back at me,

making me think of things.

Awful things.

Beautiful things.

I couldn't tell the difference between them after a while as they flashed before my eyes.

A dead girl at the bottom of a well.

Roses in bloom.

Roadkill with maggots.

Bloated corpses coming in with the tide.

Rotten skin.

being peeled from a hand like a banana.

Lemon meringue pie.

A sunset over the ocean.

Broken fingernails on the inside of a coffin lid.

How did you manage to paint to me?

Did you see me in a vision?

For when you made this, I had not yet been to see you.

You summoned me in a way.

With this, a long talon on an even longer finger reached out and pointed at the image I had made.

The one I had forgotten making.

I could feel the thing behind me.

It's breathing hot on my neck.

I have

never

seen a depiction as striking as this, though.

You perfectly captured my

essence.

Thank you.

Why don't you do more of these?

It would be a shame to waste such a precious talent as yours.

My hand hesitated, and I found myself not wanting to destroy the paint after all.

I wanted to use it.

There was an image I'd always wanted to depict.

The paint would be perfect for it.

I just knew it.

I set up my easel and began to draw, then prime,

and then laid down the big blocks of color for what would be my greatest work to date.

The piece consumed my life for three days.

For 72 hours, I did nothing but paint.

Once it was complete, I knew it was the best thing I had ever made.

The image depicted Charon.

The ferryman from Greek mythology.

He was taking someone across the river Styx from our world into the underworld,

the afterlife.

The ferryman himself was richly painted in my new color.

You should share it with the world.

So I did.

I took it to galleries,

and the first few people who saw it didn't really like it as much as I did,

despite an excellent composition.

The consensus among them was that the color of Charon was off, that the color of him just looked like a brownish-black barf sort of hue.

They didn't see the new color for some reason.

So I brought it to more galleries, circling out further and further from my home until one owner I showed it to saw it.

And I knew he really

saw it.

The well-dressed man immediately exclaimed in delight and took it from my hands.

holding the piece up to inspect it,

fawning over it.

He told me how much he loved the painting and insisted on buying it for himself.

He looked mesmerized and couldn't take his eyes from the piece.

Please, I'll pay any price,

he said, reaching for his checkbook.

I wanted to work with him more, so I gave him a reasonable price and told him I'd be back.

I would have plenty more paintings to share with him, all with similar subject matter.

The thought had occurred to me that I needed to do a series of paintings focusing on Charon, but that would require a lot more paint.

A couple more gallons would suffice, I told myself.

So I ordered my supplies, and within a week, I had another large batch of Gwerpel made up.

My next paintings were similar to the first.

I rarely slapped a raid anymore.

I just worked in my studio non-stop.

The pounds were shedding from me, and I needed needed to make new notches on my belt pretty soon just to keep my pants up.

The only thing that seemed important was painting.

Until I called the gallery and heard the news.

It turned out the owner of the place who had bought my painting of Charon

was dead.

He had committed suicide.

He stopped leaving his house,

becoming more and more isolated and catatonic,

doing nothing but staring at the painting.

Until one day,

he had slid his wrists in front of it.

He positioned furniture to lean against so that he could die while sitting up,

admiring it.

Green and purple,

purple and green,

life and death,

death and life.

I thought about this more and more after that.

It's hard to want to paint when you know that your work will kill somebody.

Well, maybe not everyone, but those who can truly see what lies beneath the colors,

what glimmers back in the reflections.

I'm afraid of what this has caused,

what my work has brought about,

terrified of what will come of it.

But part of me still seems intent on showing it to others.

So, what do you say?

Do you want to see a sample of my work?

W T

R

S E T D L W T P E S P P Y O T D A L T Y E P O T Y

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

best customer.

You have a good night now.

The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings.

Lot 095.

I Invented a New Color.

It's Going to Kill a Lot of People.

Written by Jordan Group, starring Trevor Shand, Mark Lapointe, and David Piper.

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 AntiquariumPod.

Call the Antiquarium at 646-481-7197.

This visit to the Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings is brought to you by Progressive Insurance.

Do you ever find yourself playing the budgeting game?

Shifting a little money here, a little there, and hoping it all works out?

Well, with the Name Your Price tool from Progressive, you can be a better budgeter and potentially lower your insurance bill too.

You tell Progressive what you want to pay for car insurance, and they'll help you find options within your budget.

Try it today at Progressive.com.

Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and Affiliates.

Price and coverage match limited by state law.

Not available in all states.