Lot 104 : The People Upstairs Won’t Stop Singing “Happy Birthday”

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.

This holiday season, the last place you want to be is the Naughty List. Rowan Campbell plays a bloodthirsty Santa in Silent Night, Deadly Night.
Director Mike P.

Nelson's grisly update to the most controversial horror film ever made is only in theaters December 12th. Go to sndnmovie.com for updates.
This Christmas, Santa's gonna slay.

G equals L.

Ah, come in, come in.

Mind the steps. And forgive the smell of frosting.
Someone in the back has been trying to scrub it from the floorboards. Now then, today's piece is...

unsettlingly festive. A birthday candle.
Small.

Unassuming. Though the pink wax clinging to it has an odd way of refusing to come off.

It arrived with a note we won't speak aloud, and the distinct sense that it had already been lit far more times than a single celebration should allow.

This one's called

the people upstairs won't stop singing happy birthday.

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 Raven D,

Topsy Crit,

Melfina, Christine Howell,

Christine from Montreal,

Joey,

Luis Baltadano,

Jessica Reed,

and

Marnie Frisbee.

We are ever appreciative of your devotion to the Order. Go to theObsidian Covenant.com to receive the sacrament.

Sounds harmless enough, right?

Welcome to the Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings

and Odd Goings On.

the body of the world.

Happy

The people upstairs won't stop singing happy birthday.

It's been five hours.

I don't usually work on Sundays, but I needed some extra cash, so I took an early shift. I came home at around 2 p.m.

I live in this apartment building. My apartment is on the first floor, along with another one that belongs to this dude who's rarely home.

There's Mrs. Rogue's place, and then the second floor has two other flats.

One owned by an elderly couple, and the other by this family I don't really see that often, directly above me.

Sometimes I hear the kids in the morning moaning about having to get ready for school and then stomping down the stairs.

Sometimes I hear hushed voices and dishes clattering.

After 10 p.m., everything usually goes quiet.

I got to my door and as I was searching for my keys in my bag, I could hear voices upstairs.

I couldn't really make out what they were saying, but they seemed to be talking about something really important.

Now keep in mind that I've never seen these people before.

I assumed they were a family because I kept hearing the kids and sounds that I generally attribute to a family home.

It's not like I've personally met them.

I just assumed.

Anyway, as I said, I finally got a hold of my keys and unlocked the door. Yet, I didn't immediately step inside after I opened it.

I don't know why I let it swing open and remain there listening for two more seconds, but I'm somewhat glad I did.

The moment the door was heard, the voices upstairs stopped completely as if they were listening to me now.

I remained still.

I heard a singular step on the stairs above

and that's when my back went cold and my muscles tensed up for whatever reason.

I got the sudden urge to just go inside and shut the door behind me, which I did.

Afterwards, I started putting some groceries in the fridge and doing some errands around the house. Faintly at first, then stronger, I started hearing this birthday song upstairs.
I smiled and sighed.

They were planning the birthday, man. That's why they were so precautious, so nervous.

It sounded like there were around five to six people singing, maybe.

Happy birthday, dear Jonah.

That was cute.

When they finished, they started again.

I did find it weird, but I assumed that the kid had asked for it again.

Kids love blowing out candles and whatever.

It was an awfully long song.

It kept looping until it reached its conclusion just like the first time. It had a lot of unnecessary runs and filler and extra lyrics.
When they finished, a little pause followed.

Then they started again in the exact same way.

Fucking weird family.

And by that time, I'd gotten annoyed, so I just put on my headphones and lay down on the couch.

I fell asleep at around 4 or 5 p.m.

I woke up from the nap disoriented. Man, after work naps hit the hardest.

I'd slept until around 8 p.m., and the sun was peeking at me from behind some buildings. A sunset that was more blue than red.

A melancholy and confusion that reminded me of how liminal your house felt when you would go to sleep after school and wake up with a sore throat and a huge pillow mark on your face.

Their mood ruined, your mother suddenly calling you to go out to dinner. I swallowed, staring blankly at the window highlighted in gold and rum.

I rubbed my eyes and massaged my face. I stood up to get a glass of water, walked barefoot to the kitchen, which was now sunken in that specific 8 p.m.

darkness, and stood still and silent, not knowing what I wanted for my life.

Then I finally registered one important detail.

The folks upstairs were still singing happy birthday.

I listened for a while, unsure of what my reaction should be.

I wondered wondered if they had some recording playing on a loop, but that wasn't really the case, as each version sounded different from the previous.

They really were weird.

Or maybe their kid was just eccentric.

Maybe they were practicing for some performance.

I started thinking, as I said, I hadn't personally met these people before, so I had no idea what they did.

Maybe they were really practicing.

I put my headphones on and went on trying to make some sort of dinner, even though I wasn't really hungry and my throat still hurt. I ate, watched my show, then took a shower.

Their singing had started to piss me off. It was now approaching 10 p.m.
and I felt the need to go upstairs and tell them to quit it.

I'm not confrontational. I really don't like like telling people that they upset me, and most don't have an appropriate reaction at all.
I didn't want to talk to them, so I called my mom.

I started telling her about my day, but she interrupted me, asking about the people upstairs. Uh, yeah, they've been doing it for hours.
I don't know, it's starting to really get on my nerves.

Well, go up to them and knock. Aren't the other residents annoyed? The old people upstairs? I'm sure they wanted to sleep by now.
Maybe I could just put on some music. That could cover them up.

But do you want to listen to music?

No, not really. Then Then why do it to please them? Go upstairs, Michaela.

I sighed and reluctantly agreed. After hanging up, I put on a sweater and unlocked my front door.
The moment I opened it, the air felt a little colder.

I stared at the dark hallway, illuminated by the ray of light from my door and another faint light coming from upstairs.

The second floor was more animated than the first.

The door to the family's apartment was slightly open, and I could see light and movement behind. I slowly approached it, then peeked inside.

I could see a hallway with balloons and confetti peacefully floating around. A faint smell of candles and sweetness lingered out.

I didn't want to disturb too much, so I tried to be discreet while I quietly and almost imperceptibly pushed the door slightly more open.

The small hallway made way to a dining room.

The shadows were dancing on the walls as people clapped around the table and sang.

On the table was a cake with pink and purple frosting, sprinkles and some writing I couldn't really decipher.

The song carried on but was hoarser than I'd remembered it.

People were smiling, swaying from side to side at the person sitting in front of the cake.

The lighting was dim and pleasant, its only source being the candles.

The people around were a little tense, but overall it reminded me of my own birthdays as a kid.

Some boxes lay scattered on the floor.

I tried to take a better look at them or the kid.

The child looked like a young boy with a big birthday hat on.

He, I think, could have been 10 or 12,

and his face was round and stretched into a big smile.

I stared for a while at the teeth.

I don't know what prompted me to make that observation, but he had adult teeth,

which were rotten and yellow, sticking out of his mouth in abnormal directions.

His eyes were wide and red as if he'd been crying for a while.

I don't remember seeing him blink at all.

In the minutes that I watched that felt like hours.

He seemed really shaken and tense. I'd never seen a child like that before, never in my life.

All the courage I'd had before peeking through the door had evaporated.

I must have zoned out watching the scene when I was pulled away from my trance.

The kid shifted his eyes from the candles, which had now almost completely melted, and looked straight at me.

I felt seen like I'd never been before.

My heart completely collapsed, leaving a painful knot in my chest as I made eye contact with the child.

His smile slowly faded, turning into a grimace.

I wanted to run,

but I was somehow frozen in place.

Suddenly, he blew out the candles and the room was engulfed in darkness.

Hear that? Someone started the song again. Best leave the candle unlit until we return.
Unless you'd like to find out who keeps blowing it out.

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.

This holiday season, the last place you want to be is the naughty list. Rowan Campbell plays a bloodthirsty Santa in Silent Night Deadly Night.
Director Mike P.

Nelson's grisly update to the most controversial horror film ever made is only in theaters December 12th. Go to SNDNmovie.com for updates.
This Christmas, Santa's gonna slay.

Why, hello there. You've reached the antiquarium.
If you wish to leave a message, please do so with the tone and have a great day.

Hey, Trevor, how's it going, man? Got something for you. Picked it up from a foreclosure clean out over in Birchwood.
House had been stripped to the studs. I mean, like, literally.

And this thing was sitting dead center in the living room like it owned the place.

It's a heavy brass door knocker. Shape of two hands pressed together like someone frozen mid-prayer.
The folks around here called it the door knocker's mercy.

Little on the nose, but hey, that's why I don't name things. Here's the issue.
It knocks even when it's not mounted to anything.

First time it did, the whole house went quiet. I mean like quiet, quiet.

No highway hum, no birds, no HVAC tick, like somebody smothered the world with a pillow.

Then Then I started noticing fingerprints around the door frames.

Every single one of them. Like someone had been feeling along the walls looking for a way out.

Then it knocked again from inside the drywall.

Now look, I didn't stick around for round three.

A neighbor said that the last owner went nuts trying to get him out of the walls. The guy literally tore the whole place apart with a crowbar.

Crew that demolished the house said that the knocking kept going even after the place was down to the studs.

I've got the thing wrapped up in the box, but it still gets cold when you get near it. And if you hear the thing knocking and it's coming from inside the house, yeah, that's it just warming up.

Anyways, figure this is more your speed than mine per usual. I'll drop it by when the shop's empty.
Don't want to set anything else off. Talk soon, brother.

End of messages.

Good. You're still here.
The flame held through the break. Now,

where were we?

Ah, yes. The neighbors were still singing.
Five hours.

Same song.

Same smile.

Let's listen a little longer.

Shall we?

I must have zoned out watching the scene when I was pulled away from my trance.

The kid shifted his eyes from the candles, which had now almost completely melted, and looked straight at me.

I felt seen like I'd never been before.

My heart completely collapsed, leaving a painful knot in my chest as I made eye contact with the child.

His smile slowly faded, turning into a grimace.

I wanted to run,

but I was somehow frozen in place.

Suddenly, he blew out the candles and the room was engulfed in darkness.

I heard something shuffle in the dark towards me, gasped and shut the door behind me as I practically jumped down down the stairs. The shuffling and scratching followed.

I gripped the door and slammed it behind me just as something slammed into it from the other side. Eyes wide and unfocused, I barely managed to lock it as the banging started.

The song upstairs had stopped.

I looked through the peephole. The hallway was completely dark now.

But I could make out the details of the face I'd looked at before in the dimly lit dining room.

Only now we were at eye level, which was impossible since that had been a kid.

Had it.

The more I thought, the more I realized I had no idea what prompted me to assume it had been a kid.

The round face, childish clothing?

Trying to decipher the memory meant analyzing every detail of that horrible face. A thing I didn't want to do.

The banging turned to scratching.

Suddenly, I heard a distinct sound upstairs. Banging and scratching instantly stopped.

It was a door opening. The elderly couple's door.

Hey! What on earth you're doing? It's the middle of the night.

I watched through the peephole as the kid not a kid walked away from my door, upstairs.

I silently dialed up the the police and barely managed to whisper what was going on, afraid I might be heard.

As I was detailing the problem, I looked through the peephole once again to be greeted by that face, grimaced,

eyes bloodshot and sunken into the head.

You're welcome to join next year.

That's why we left the door open.

Came the voice of an adult, out of the face of a 12-year-old.

I gasped and ducked as if that would save me.

The police came in around half an hour, which was an insanely long amount of time.

They went upstairs and sealed off the entirety of the second floor. They refused to give me details.

I had to wait for the headlines and accept some vague answers from the numerous phone calls I'd given since.

Miss, there were never kids living upstairs. Two of them were grown-ups, but two of them were pretending to be kids.

They refused to tell me what had happened to the elderly couple. They barely mumbled something that included kidnapping, massacre, disembowelment.

Some of the victims, which had been many, were hostages, made to play along.

The presents were just pieces of flesh. toys made of bones with bows on them.
One of them was a necklace made of teeth. teeth.

I'm going through a really hard time now, trying to move all my stuff without having to go to that place too often.

I can't sell it or rent it out.

Maybe to some true crime fanatic.

I moved in with my parents, but I asked them to add extra locks to their doors and windows and security cameras everywhere.

They assumed I was paranoid and suffering from PTSD.

I let them believe that.

However, I'd watched the security footage of that night showing the outside of my door. The birthday boy I'd spoken to hadn't gone back upstairs.
He just crawled to the window and jumped out.

I don't know where he is now.

I only hope he isn't planning another birthday party.

Every culture has its way of calling the darkness closer.

For some, it's the Ouija board.

For others, the midnight mirror. But there's one ritual that doesn't just call to the spirit world.

It calls to something much older.

Something that plays.

It's known as the Dry Bones Ritual.

The name comes from an old superstition

that bones left dry by fire are the remnants of things that could not burn.

According to online accounts, the earliest version of this game surfaced around 2012. on an anonymous forum posted by someone calling themselves the last player.

They claimed the ritual began as a European folktale. A game villagers once played to bargain with demons for food, fortune, or revenge.

Every generation, someone tries it again.

Sometimes it ends in silence.

Sometimes... in scratching at the walls.

People who say they've played it describe the same sequence.

A candle flickering out on its own.

A low moan that echoes through empty rooms.

And footsteps. Too slow, too heavy to belong to anyone still alive.

Some say if you survive the night, you're granted a wish. Others say you're only left alive because the thing you summoned is saving you for later.

If you still want to know how it's done, here's what the legend says.

You'll need

a bathroom with a mirror, a box of matches, and solitude.

No other person,

no pets,

no distractions.

The ritual begins at 12.01 a.m. sharp.
Before then, walk through your home. Close every door, every cabinet, every cupboard.

Anything that can open must stay closed.

Turn off every light, every screen, every sound.

When your home feels hollow and still,

you're ready.

If you hear anything unusual before you begin,

leave.

Don't question it. Don't look.

Just go.

Because that means he's already there.

Waiting.

And they say,

sometimes even reading about this ritual is enough to catch his attention.

If you're still here,

focus your mind on one thing you truly want.

Something possible.

Not power.

Not immortality.

Something human.

Because if you win, that's what you'll receive.

Light a match and hold it. Don't blow it out.
Let it burn down on its own.

If the flame lasts for 15 seconds, he's pleased with you.

You may continue.

If it doesn't, you might want to stop.

Lie Lie down on the floor and say,

I am aware of your presence

and I welcome you into my home, but not into my body.

Come now

and stand and move to the largest room of your house and wait.

There's no telling how long,

minutes,

hours.

You'll know when it begins by the sound.

A low moan,

something shifting in the dark.

That's when you hide.

Hide well.

Stay silent.

If you hear a voice, if you feel pressure on your skin,

if you sense breath at your ear,

Leave the house immediately.

You must stay hidden until 3 a.m.

If he finds you before then,

he'll do what he wants with you.

And what he wants

isn't mercy.

When the clock reaches 3, step back into the open.

Return to the largest room.

Say aloud,

Thank you for playing, but please leave now.

You are no longer welcome.

If you hear an answer, a knock, a sigh,

even silence that feels heavier than before,

the game is over.

If you don't, repeat it until the air lightens again.

They say your wish, if granted, will come soon after,

sometimes. by dawn.

But beware what you ask for.

And remember,

the thing you summoned doesn't leave empty-handed.

Never play the game twice.

He remembers every house,

every voice,

and every match that burns out too soon.

Y M J T T-W-I-J-W-Q-N-L-M-Y-X-Y-M-J-H-F-S-I-Q-J-X-T-K-Y-M-J-Q-T-X-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 104. The People Upstairs Won't Stop Singing Happy Birthday.
Consigned by Helena Castellan. Starring April Consolo, Romy Evans, Mike Toms.

Additional voices by Trevor Shand, Scarlett Chand, Everett Chand, and Jay Chand. The Dry Bones Ritual, narrated by Gwyneth Glover, featuring Stephen Knowles as the antique dealer.

Engineering production and sound design by Trevor Shand and Lauren Shand. Theme music by the Newton Brothers.

Additional music by Coag, Vivek Abishek, Clement Panchout, Nicholas Redding, and Conan Freeman. 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.

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.

This holiday season, the last place you want to be is the naughty list. Rowan Campbell plays a bloodthirsty Santa in Silent Night, Deadly Night.
Director Mike P.

Nelson's grisly update to the most controversial horror film ever made is only in theaters December 12th. Go to sndnmovie.com for updates.
This Christmas, Santa's gonna slay.