00:00:00Jimmy's Restless Retirement
00:04:32The Mysterious Blackwood Ridge Estate
00:07:21Entering the Haunted Study
00:10:18The Journal's Terrible Secret
00:13:26Becoming Part of the House
00:17:47Forever A Coat of Paint
ABOUT THIS EPISODE
A retired painter's search for purpose leads to an unspeakable fate when the walls of an ancient house hungrily await their next coat.
Jimmy Hurley thought retirement would taste like freedom. Instead, it left him adrift in coastal Maine while his wife Karen thrived in their new life. Seeking to recapture the simple satisfaction of his trade, Jimmy begins taking small painting jobs—until a cryptic advertisement leads him to Blackwood Ridge Estate, a house that locals only speak of in whispers.
The decrepit mansion perches like a malignant growth on the ridge, more manifestation of decay than building. Its peeling façade and vacant window-eyes seem to watch Jimmy as he approaches. Inside waits Mrs. Gable, a frail woman with eyes like polished onyx and a voice dry as autumn leaves. The job seems simple: paint her study a deep, true blue—"like the ink of the abyss."
What happens when the painter becomes the medium? Listen to discover the chilling truth about what really dwells behind old walls, waiting for fresh vitality to sustain its unnatural existence. Some houses don't just consume your time—they consume you.
If you have questions, comments or suggestions you can email me at:
Exxa0001@gmail.com and I will get back to you.
English
United States
IN THIS EPISODE
SHOW NOTES 🔗
TRANSCRIPT 🔗
WEBVTT
00:01:24.888 --> 00:01:36.707
The salt air of coastal Maine crisp and unforgiving was supposed to be the scent of freedom For Jimmy Hurley, retired four months from Hurley Painting.
00:01:36.707 --> 00:01:40.814
It mostly smelled of damp wood and emptiness.
00:01:40.814 --> 00:01:47.121
Smelled of damp wood and emptiness.
00:01:47.121 --> 00:01:50.733
He'd built the company over 22 years, brush stroke by careful brush stroke, then decided to shut the company down and retire.
00:01:50.733 --> 00:01:59.661
He sold his two-family house in Winthrop, massachusetts, for a figure that meant he and his wife, karen, could live out their days comfortably.
00:01:59.661 --> 00:02:09.707
They moved to Cape Elizabeth, maine, where they had bought a small house with a nice chunk of land just down the street from the choppy Atlantic Ocean.
00:02:09.707 --> 00:02:16.287
Karen seemed perfectly happy, filling her days with her work-from-home job and grandkids.
00:02:17.189 --> 00:02:23.332
Jimmy, adrift without the structure of estimates and job sites, felt the quiet pressing in.
00:02:23.332 --> 00:02:39.287
That's why he started taking the small jobs A fence here, a shed there, just enough to keep his hands busy, to feel the familiar weight of a roller or brush, to bring order and color to something neglected.
00:02:39.287 --> 00:02:43.213
It wasn't about the money, they didn't need it.
00:02:43.213 --> 00:02:51.372
It was about the motion, the smell of fresh paint, the simple satisfaction of a job well done.
00:02:51.372 --> 00:02:55.907
This job, though, this one was different.
00:02:55.907 --> 00:03:01.823
It came by way of a cryptic ad at the Cape Elizabeth General Store.
00:03:01.823 --> 00:03:07.100
Experienced painter needed Blackwood Ridge Estate, portland.
00:03:07.100 --> 00:03:09.144
Generous compensation.
00:03:09.144 --> 00:03:16.581
Blackwood Ridge Estate Everyone in town knew the name, usually whispered.
00:03:16.581 --> 00:03:23.632
It was where the old house stood, silent and brooding, clinging to the rocky spine of the land.
00:03:23.632 --> 00:03:31.655
The address given was for the house at the very end of a road, the one people avoided even looking at directly.
00:03:31.655 --> 00:03:34.721
Jimmy called the number in the ad.
00:03:34.721 --> 00:03:44.033
The voice on the phone, old Mrs Gable, was dry as autumn leaves, offering double his usual rate for painting a single room.
00:03:44.033 --> 00:03:45.156
A study.
00:03:45.156 --> 00:03:50.771
Jimmy, bored and intrigued, despite the prickle of unease, said yes.
00:03:52.441 --> 00:03:56.091
Driving up Blackwood Ridge was like entering a different climate zone.
00:03:56.091 --> 00:04:02.512
The air grew colder, the trees denser, clawing overhead blocking out the sun.
00:04:02.512 --> 00:04:12.149
The paved road crumbled into dirt and gravel, the silence deepening, broken only by the crunch of his truck tires.
00:04:12.149 --> 00:04:18.184
And then he saw the house Perched on the ridge, like a growth.
00:04:18.184 --> 00:04:22.072
It was less a building and more a manifestation of decay.
00:04:22.072 --> 00:04:24.864
It was less a building and more a manifestation of decay.
00:04:24.864 --> 00:04:27.108
Paint was a distant memory, peeling wood like scabbed skin.
00:04:27.108 --> 00:04:32.670
Windows were dark, vacant eyes, some boarded and others just black holes.
00:04:32.670 --> 00:04:42.286
The porch sagged, the roofline dipped and the whole structure seemed to hunch against the elements, defeated but stubbornly rooted.
00:04:42.286 --> 00:04:58.663
An aura of profound stillness, heavy and cold, hung around it, thick with the smell of damp earth, rot and something else faintly tangy and sweet.
00:04:59.905 --> 00:05:09.209
Jimmy, a man who'd worked on properties ranging from pristine new builds to crumbling Victorians, felt a genuine knot of fear tighten in his gut.
00:05:09.209 --> 00:05:11.066
This wasn't just neglect.
00:05:11.066 --> 00:05:13.968
This house felt wrong.
00:05:13.968 --> 00:05:20.312
He parked the truck, the engine noise dying abruptly in the oppressive silence.
00:05:20.312 --> 00:05:35.221
He sat there for a moment, the keys in the ignition, a powerful urge to just turn around, warring with that ingrained painter's resolve Get in, do the work, get paid, get out.
00:05:36.932 --> 00:05:39.019
He opened the truck door and stepped out.
00:05:39.019 --> 00:05:42.139
The gravel protested loudly under his boots.
00:05:42.139 --> 00:05:45.538
He walked towards the house, every step heavy.
00:05:45.538 --> 00:05:50.481
The front door was ajar, a dark mouth in the decaying facade.
00:05:50.481 --> 00:05:52.492
He pushed it open slowly.
00:05:52.492 --> 00:05:54.957
Hinges screamed in protest.
00:05:54.957 --> 00:05:56.620
He pushed it open slowly.
00:05:56.620 --> 00:05:58.945
Hinges screamed in protest.
00:05:58.945 --> 00:06:05.829
The air inside was thick, cold, heavy with dust, mildew and that cloying sweet smell.
00:06:10.389 --> 00:06:12.132
Mrs Gable, he called out his voice unnaturally loud in the stillness.
00:06:12.132 --> 00:06:12.553
No answer.
00:06:12.553 --> 00:06:18.963
He stepped inside the door, sighing shut behind him with a soft click that sounded terrifyingly final.
00:06:18.963 --> 00:06:29.087
The hallway was dim, shadows clinging to the corners like physical entities.
00:06:29.087 --> 00:06:34.132
Mrs Gable, he tried again, a little louder, a soft dragging shuffle from the back of the house.
00:06:34.132 --> 00:06:39.255
He followed the sound, heart beginning to thump against his ribs.
00:06:40.216 --> 00:06:47.081
He passed through shrouded rooms, silent and ghostly, the air growing colder with each step.
00:06:47.081 --> 00:06:50.882
The sound led him to a door at the end of the hall.
00:06:50.882 --> 00:06:55.865
Slightly open, he pushed it wider and found himself in the study.
00:06:55.865 --> 00:07:08.432
It was a small dark room, walls lined with densely packed bookshelves.
00:07:08.432 --> 00:07:10.015
Behind a heavy desk piled with papers sat Mrs Gable.
00:07:10.015 --> 00:07:20.536
She was tiny, frail, her skin like ancient vellum, but her eyes were vast and black like ancient vellum, but her eyes were vast and black like polished onyx, fixed on him with an intensity that made his skin crawl.
00:07:20.536 --> 00:07:24.444
Her white hair was pulled tight, her face sharp, angular.
00:07:26.370 --> 00:07:33.493
Mr Hurley, her voice was a dry rustle, like leaves skittering across a graveyard, skittering across a graveyard.
00:07:33.493 --> 00:07:38.137
Yes, ma'am, jimmy Hurley, here about painting the study.
00:07:38.137 --> 00:07:40.677
He offered a tight smile.
00:07:40.677 --> 00:07:42.418
You are late.
00:07:42.418 --> 00:07:49.582
Jimmy frowned Late, no, I came right at ten, like we agreed.
00:07:49.582 --> 00:07:51.723
She tilted her head.
00:07:51.723 --> 00:07:54.086
Those dark eyes, unwavering.
00:07:54.086 --> 00:08:03.384
Time is obliging here, mr Hurley, it bends to necessity.
00:08:03.384 --> 00:08:04.932
A shiver went down his spine Right.
00:08:06.015 --> 00:08:23.130
Well, the ad mentioned blue paint, a deep, true blue, she said, like the ink of the abyss.
00:08:23.130 --> 00:08:24.332
He looked at the walls, they were a faded, stained beige.
00:08:24.332 --> 00:08:25.394
Okay, do you have the paint?
00:08:25.394 --> 00:08:27.695
It is there.
00:08:27.695 --> 00:08:30.658
She gestured to a dusty corner.
00:08:30.658 --> 00:08:32.882
He retrieved the can.
00:08:32.902 --> 00:08:33.603
He retrieved the can.
00:08:33.603 --> 00:08:36.865
It was heavy, the label unreadable with age.
00:08:36.865 --> 00:08:41.754
He shook it.
00:08:41.754 --> 00:08:42.548
The contents sloshed, thick and viscous.
00:08:42.548 --> 00:08:43.591
Looks old.
00:08:43.591 --> 00:08:47.118
Everything here is old, mr Hurley.
00:08:47.118 --> 00:08:51.465
She said a faint, chilling smile touching her lips.
00:08:51.465 --> 00:08:54.474
Some things are timeless.
00:08:54.474 --> 00:08:56.596
He pried the lid open.
00:08:56.596 --> 00:09:02.471
The smell hit him Metallic, coppery, sickeningly sweet.
00:09:02.471 --> 00:09:05.317
Not paint, something else.
00:09:05.317 --> 00:09:08.824
His gut twisted but he'd taken the job.
00:09:08.824 --> 00:09:12.279
He stirred the thick, dark blue liquid.
00:09:12.279 --> 00:09:17.081
It looked less like paint and more like liquefied shadows.
00:09:18.330 --> 00:09:22.882
As he applied the first brush stroke near the bookshelf, he heard the whisper.
00:09:22.882 --> 00:09:25.134
He breathes.
00:09:25.134 --> 00:09:31.144
Jimmy froze looked at Mrs Gable, silent at her desk.
00:09:31.144 --> 00:09:35.033
Mrs Gable, did you say something?
00:09:35.033 --> 00:09:39.620
No answer, just the house settling.
00:09:39.620 --> 00:09:47.489
He told himself Old wood, old wood.
00:09:47.489 --> 00:09:49.692
But the whisper came again closer.
00:09:49.692 --> 00:09:52.918
He sees you Right beside his ear.
00:09:54.299 --> 00:09:58.370
He spun around, heart hammering, nothing.
00:09:58.370 --> 00:10:01.831
The feeling of being watched intensified.
00:10:01.831 --> 00:10:03.793
A cold weight on his back.
00:10:03.793 --> 00:10:11.837
He worked, trying to focus on the rhythmic scrape of the brush, the smell of the unnerving paint filling his lungs.
00:10:11.837 --> 00:10:15.899
The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating.
00:10:17.360 --> 00:10:23.783
As he worked near the desk his hand brushed something under a stack of papers A small leather-bound journal.
00:10:23.783 --> 00:10:28.027
Curiosity, morbid and irresistible, drew him.
00:10:28.027 --> 00:10:40.457
He glanced at Mrs Gable, still silent.
00:10:40.457 --> 00:10:41.823
He slipped the journal out, old Brittle.
00:10:41.823 --> 00:10:48.270
He opened it, spidery, faded handwriting May 17th.
00:10:48.270 --> 00:10:48.691
The shell weakens.
00:10:48.691 --> 00:10:49.391
The binder must be refreshed.
00:10:49.391 --> 00:10:51.492
The offering of life, the final coat, must be true blue.
00:10:51.492 --> 00:10:54.554
Essence for color, flesh for permanence.
00:10:54.554 --> 00:10:56.956
His blood ran cold.
00:10:56.956 --> 00:11:04.342
Essence, flesh, permanence, the smell of the paint.
00:11:05.724 --> 00:11:09.366
He slammed the journal shut, looked at Mrs Gable.
00:11:09.366 --> 00:11:20.649
She was watching him, her black eyes alight, with a terrible knowing, reading my diary, mr Hurley.
00:11:20.649 --> 00:11:22.533
Her voice was soft, but it cut through him.
00:11:22.533 --> 00:11:24.817
No, ma'am, I, I just.
00:11:24.817 --> 00:11:27.021
He fumbled with the book.
00:11:27.021 --> 00:11:32.614
She chuckled a dry, rattling sound.
00:11:32.614 --> 00:11:39.393
Some stories are meant to be read, some endings are meant to be written.
00:11:39.452 --> 00:11:47.812
He stood frozen, the journal in his hand, the smell of the paint, thick and sweet in the air.
00:11:47.812 --> 00:11:51.138
That paint, she said, gesturing to the can.
00:11:51.138 --> 00:11:53.923
The binder is unique.
00:11:53.923 --> 00:11:58.790
It requires a living contribution.
00:11:58.790 --> 00:11:59.971
What are you talking about?
00:11:59.971 --> 00:12:02.213
His voice was hoarse.
00:12:02.213 --> 00:12:08.058
Her smile widened, revealing dark gums around surprisingly white teeth.
00:12:08.058 --> 00:12:16.146
The house needs to live, mr Hurley, and something lives in the house, something that requires sustenance.
00:12:24.312 --> 00:12:26.389
The whisper came again, louder, deeper, resonating in the bones of the house we hunger.
00:12:26.389 --> 00:12:28.451
Jimmy dropped the journal.
00:12:28.451 --> 00:12:29.173
It landed on the drop cloth.
00:12:29.173 --> 00:12:29.633
With house we hunger.
00:12:29.633 --> 00:12:30.333
Jimmy dropped the journal.
00:12:30.333 --> 00:12:30.975
It landed on the drop cloth.
00:12:30.975 --> 00:12:34.117
With a soft thud he backed away slowly.
00:12:34.117 --> 00:12:42.566
Mrs Gable's expression shifted, losing the pretense of frail age, becoming something ancient and predatory.
00:12:42.566 --> 00:12:55.181
You were a good choice, mr Hurley, she said her voice strong, chillingly clear, healthy, full of vitality, the perfect pigment.
00:12:55.181 --> 00:12:59.439
Nope, fuck this place, I'm done here.
00:13:00.509 --> 00:13:03.519
He turned and started walking out at a brisk pace.
00:13:03.519 --> 00:13:09.350
He burst out of the study through the shrouded rooms into the dark hallway.
00:13:09.350 --> 00:13:18.010
He fumbled with the front door, his hand shaking the knob, eluding his grasp Behind him.
00:13:18.010 --> 00:13:28.981
The shuffling came faster and the whisper no longer a whisper but a guttural, hungry sound that filled the house, ours.
00:13:28.981 --> 00:13:34.361
He yanked the door open and stumbled out onto the porch, gasping for air.
00:13:34.361 --> 00:13:39.020
He scrambled down the sagging steps, boots slipping on the gravel.
00:13:39.020 --> 00:13:42.519
He reached his truck, keys shaking.
00:13:42.519 --> 00:13:45.514
He jammed it in the ignition, turned it.
00:13:45.514 --> 00:13:50.823
Click, click, click, click, click, dead.
00:13:50.823 --> 00:13:55.902
He tried again, frantically, nothing.
00:13:55.902 --> 00:13:58.790
He heard something behind him.
00:13:58.790 --> 00:14:08.198
Slow, deliberate, he froze, turned Slowly, terribly.
00:14:09.840 --> 00:14:18.626
Standing on the porch, silhouetted against the dark doorway, was a figure, not Mrs Gable.
00:14:18.626 --> 00:14:26.557
This was taller, broader, a shape defined by the absence of light.
00:14:26.557 --> 00:14:36.893
Its face was indistinct, its eyes twin voids, and in its hand dripping with the thick, bruised blue paint, it held a paintbrush.
00:14:36.893 --> 00:14:42.707
It started walking towards him, slow, inexorable.
00:14:42.707 --> 00:14:45.923
Jimmy kept trying to start the truck.
00:14:45.923 --> 00:14:49.203
Click, click, click.
00:14:49.203 --> 00:14:55.447
The air grew heavy, the sweet, coppery smell intensifying.
00:14:55.447 --> 00:15:01.067
He had left the window down and with a dead battery, it was stuck down.
00:15:01.067 --> 00:15:04.543
The figure was right outside his door.
00:15:04.543 --> 00:15:06.697
It raised the brush.
00:15:06.697 --> 00:15:16.977
A final whisper seeming to come from the house itself, from the figure, from the very air around him.
00:15:16.977 --> 00:15:20.601
Become the color Mr Hurley.
00:15:20.601 --> 00:15:23.807
Then the brush descended.
00:15:23.807 --> 00:15:27.191
It wasn't a blow, it was a touch.
00:15:28.414 --> 00:15:39.206
The cold, thick paint smeared across his face, but it didn't just sit on his skin, it sank in like ink on blotting paper.
00:15:39.206 --> 00:15:44.915
A searing cold spread through him, radiating from where the paint touched.
00:15:44.915 --> 00:15:49.845
His skin felt taut, then began to tighten, to stiffen.
00:15:49.845 --> 00:15:57.462
The smell of the paint was overwhelming, filling his mouth, his nose, his lungs.
00:15:57.462 --> 00:15:59.225
He couldn't breathe.
00:15:59.225 --> 00:16:06.596
He tried to scream, but the sound was choked off, turning into a gurgling gasp.
00:16:06.596 --> 00:16:20.542
As the blue spread, creeping across his face, down his neck, onto his arms, his body felt heavy, rigid, like drying plaster.
00:16:20.542 --> 00:16:28.979
He could feel his substance changing, becoming dense, opaque, the texture of drying paint.
00:16:28.979 --> 00:16:35.115
His vision blurred the world, narrowing to the terrifying blue consuming him.
00:16:35.115 --> 00:16:42.447
He felt himself pulled, drawn towards the house, towards the study, towards the wall.
00:16:42.447 --> 00:16:49.106
In some supernatural way his consciousness fragmented, scattering like droplets of paint.
00:16:49.106 --> 00:16:51.282
Then he blacked out.
00:16:52.514 --> 00:16:57.861
Jimmy Hurley didn't just die, he was absorbed.
00:16:57.861 --> 00:17:07.150
His life, his energy, his very being was the essence, the binder for the final coat.
00:17:07.150 --> 00:17:14.469
He was pressed into the wall, becoming part of the pigment, the permanence the journal spoke of.
00:17:14.469 --> 00:17:21.059
The Blackwood Ridge estate stood silent.
00:17:21.059 --> 00:17:27.670
The study walls a vibrant, unnatural blue, were finished, bound for a time.
00:17:27.670 --> 00:17:45.655
Jimmy Hurley, the retired painter with a wife named Karen, down by the sea, was gone, incorporated into the fabric of the house, a permanent, unseen part of its terrible history a living, breathing coat of paint on the wall of Mrs Gable's study.
00:17:45.655 --> 00:17:52.949
Karen would wait, she would call his cell phone, she would call the police.
00:17:52.949 --> 00:18:00.900
They would investigate, but all they would find is a little old lady that had her study painted a very odd blue color.
00:18:00.900 --> 00:18:07.142
She would eventually accept he was missing, but she would never find him.
00:18:07.142 --> 00:18:13.682
He was already home, or what remained of him was.
00:01:24.888 --> 00:01:36.707
The salt air of coastal Maine crisp and unforgiving was supposed to be the scent of freedom For Jimmy Hurley, retired four months from Hurley Painting.
00:01:36.707 --> 00:01:40.814
It mostly smelled of damp wood and emptiness.
00:01:40.814 --> 00:01:47.121
Smelled of damp wood and emptiness.
00:01:47.121 --> 00:01:50.733
He'd built the company over 22 years, brush stroke by careful brush stroke, then decided to shut the company down and retire.
00:01:50.733 --> 00:01:59.661
He sold his two-family house in Winthrop, massachusetts, for a figure that meant he and his wife, karen, could live out their days comfortably.
00:01:59.661 --> 00:02:09.707
They moved to Cape Elizabeth, maine, where they had bought a small house with a nice chunk of land just down the street from the choppy Atlantic Ocean.
00:02:09.707 --> 00:02:16.287
Karen seemed perfectly happy, filling her days with her work-from-home job and grandkids.
00:02:17.189 --> 00:02:23.332
Jimmy, adrift without the structure of estimates and job sites, felt the quiet pressing in.
00:02:23.332 --> 00:02:39.287
That's why he started taking the small jobs A fence here, a shed there, just enough to keep his hands busy, to feel the familiar weight of a roller or brush, to bring order and color to something neglected.
00:02:39.287 --> 00:02:43.213
It wasn't about the money, they didn't need it.
00:02:43.213 --> 00:02:51.372
It was about the motion, the smell of fresh paint, the simple satisfaction of a job well done.
00:02:51.372 --> 00:02:55.907
This job, though, this one was different.
00:02:55.907 --> 00:03:01.823
It came by way of a cryptic ad at the Cape Elizabeth General Store.
00:03:01.823 --> 00:03:07.100
Experienced painter needed Blackwood Ridge Estate, portland.
00:03:07.100 --> 00:03:09.144
Generous compensation.
00:03:09.144 --> 00:03:16.581
Blackwood Ridge Estate Everyone in town knew the name, usually whispered.
00:03:16.581 --> 00:03:23.632
It was where the old house stood, silent and brooding, clinging to the rocky spine of the land.
00:03:23.632 --> 00:03:31.655
The address given was for the house at the very end of a road, the one people avoided even looking at directly.
00:03:31.655 --> 00:03:34.721
Jimmy called the number in the ad.
00:03:34.721 --> 00:03:44.033
The voice on the phone, old Mrs Gable, was dry as autumn leaves, offering double his usual rate for painting a single room.
00:03:44.033 --> 00:03:45.156
A study.
00:03:45.156 --> 00:03:50.771
Jimmy, bored and intrigued, despite the prickle of unease, said yes.
00:03:52.441 --> 00:03:56.091
Driving up Blackwood Ridge was like entering a different climate zone.
00:03:56.091 --> 00:04:02.512
The air grew colder, the trees denser, clawing overhead blocking out the sun.
00:04:02.512 --> 00:04:12.149
The paved road crumbled into dirt and gravel, the silence deepening, broken only by the crunch of his truck tires.
00:04:12.149 --> 00:04:18.184
And then he saw the house Perched on the ridge, like a growth.
00:04:18.184 --> 00:04:22.072
It was less a building and more a manifestation of decay.
00:04:22.072 --> 00:04:24.864
It was less a building and more a manifestation of decay.
00:04:24.864 --> 00:04:27.108
Paint was a distant memory, peeling wood like scabbed skin.
00:04:27.108 --> 00:04:32.670
Windows were dark, vacant eyes, some boarded and others just black holes.
00:04:32.670 --> 00:04:42.286
The porch sagged, the roofline dipped and the whole structure seemed to hunch against the elements, defeated but stubbornly rooted.
00:04:42.286 --> 00:04:58.663
An aura of profound stillness, heavy and cold, hung around it, thick with the smell of damp earth, rot and something else faintly tangy and sweet.
00:04:59.905 --> 00:05:09.209
Jimmy, a man who'd worked on properties ranging from pristine new builds to crumbling Victorians, felt a genuine knot of fear tighten in his gut.
00:05:09.209 --> 00:05:11.066
This wasn't just neglect.
00:05:11.066 --> 00:05:13.968
This house felt wrong.
00:05:13.968 --> 00:05:20.312
He parked the truck, the engine noise dying abruptly in the oppressive silence.
00:05:20.312 --> 00:05:35.221
He sat there for a moment, the keys in the ignition, a powerful urge to just turn around, warring with that ingrained painter's resolve Get in, do the work, get paid, get out.
00:05:36.932 --> 00:05:39.019
He opened the truck door and stepped out.
00:05:39.019 --> 00:05:42.139
The gravel protested loudly under his boots.
00:05:42.139 --> 00:05:45.538
He walked towards the house, every step heavy.
00:05:45.538 --> 00:05:50.481
The front door was ajar, a dark mouth in the decaying facade.
00:05:50.481 --> 00:05:52.492
He pushed it open slowly.
00:05:52.492 --> 00:05:54.957
Hinges screamed in protest.
00:05:54.957 --> 00:05:56.620
He pushed it open slowly.
00:05:56.620 --> 00:05:58.945
Hinges screamed in protest.
00:05:58.945 --> 00:06:05.829
The air inside was thick, cold, heavy with dust, mildew and that cloying sweet smell.
00:06:10.389 --> 00:06:12.132
Mrs Gable, he called out his voice unnaturally loud in the stillness.
00:06:12.132 --> 00:06:12.553
No answer.
00:06:12.553 --> 00:06:18.963
He stepped inside the door, sighing shut behind him with a soft click that sounded terrifyingly final.
00:06:18.963 --> 00:06:29.087
The hallway was dim, shadows clinging to the corners like physical entities.
00:06:29.087 --> 00:06:34.132
Mrs Gable, he tried again, a little louder, a soft dragging shuffle from the back of the house.
00:06:34.132 --> 00:06:39.255
He followed the sound, heart beginning to thump against his ribs.
00:06:40.216 --> 00:06:47.081
He passed through shrouded rooms, silent and ghostly, the air growing colder with each step.
00:06:47.081 --> 00:06:50.882
The sound led him to a door at the end of the hall.
00:06:50.882 --> 00:06:55.865
Slightly open, he pushed it wider and found himself in the study.
00:06:55.865 --> 00:07:08.432
It was a small dark room, walls lined with densely packed bookshelves.
00:07:08.432 --> 00:07:10.015
Behind a heavy desk piled with papers sat Mrs Gable.
00:07:10.015 --> 00:07:20.536
She was tiny, frail, her skin like ancient vellum, but her eyes were vast and black like ancient vellum, but her eyes were vast and black like polished onyx, fixed on him with an intensity that made his skin crawl.
00:07:20.536 --> 00:07:24.444
Her white hair was pulled tight, her face sharp, angular.
00:07:26.370 --> 00:07:33.493
Mr Hurley, her voice was a dry rustle, like leaves skittering across a graveyard, skittering across a graveyard.
00:07:33.493 --> 00:07:38.137
Yes, ma'am, jimmy Hurley, here about painting the study.
00:07:38.137 --> 00:07:40.677
He offered a tight smile.
00:07:40.677 --> 00:07:42.418
You are late.
00:07:42.418 --> 00:07:49.582
Jimmy frowned Late, no, I came right at ten, like we agreed.
00:07:49.582 --> 00:07:51.723
She tilted her head.
00:07:51.723 --> 00:07:54.086
Those dark eyes, unwavering.
00:07:54.086 --> 00:08:03.384
Time is obliging here, mr Hurley, it bends to necessity.
00:08:03.384 --> 00:08:04.932
A shiver went down his spine Right.
00:08:06.015 --> 00:08:23.130
Well, the ad mentioned blue paint, a deep, true blue, she said, like the ink of the abyss.
00:08:23.130 --> 00:08:24.332
He looked at the walls, they were a faded, stained beige.
00:08:24.332 --> 00:08:25.394
Okay, do you have the paint?
00:08:25.394 --> 00:08:27.695
It is there.
00:08:27.695 --> 00:08:30.658
She gestured to a dusty corner.
00:08:30.658 --> 00:08:32.882
He retrieved the can.
00:08:32.902 --> 00:08:33.603
He retrieved the can.
00:08:33.603 --> 00:08:36.865
It was heavy, the label unreadable with age.
00:08:36.865 --> 00:08:41.754
He shook it.
00:08:41.754 --> 00:08:42.548
The contents sloshed, thick and viscous.
00:08:42.548 --> 00:08:43.591
Looks old.
00:08:43.591 --> 00:08:47.118
Everything here is old, mr Hurley.
00:08:47.118 --> 00:08:51.465
She said a faint, chilling smile touching her lips.
00:08:51.465 --> 00:08:54.474
Some things are timeless.
00:08:54.474 --> 00:08:56.596
He pried the lid open.
00:08:56.596 --> 00:09:02.471
The smell hit him Metallic, coppery, sickeningly sweet.
00:09:02.471 --> 00:09:05.317
Not paint, something else.
00:09:05.317 --> 00:09:08.824
His gut twisted but he'd taken the job.
00:09:08.824 --> 00:09:12.279
He stirred the thick, dark blue liquid.
00:09:12.279 --> 00:09:17.081
It looked less like paint and more like liquefied shadows.
00:09:18.330 --> 00:09:22.882
As he applied the first brush stroke near the bookshelf, he heard the whisper.
00:09:22.882 --> 00:09:25.134
He breathes.
00:09:25.134 --> 00:09:31.144
Jimmy froze looked at Mrs Gable, silent at her desk.
00:09:31.144 --> 00:09:35.033
Mrs Gable, did you say something?
00:09:35.033 --> 00:09:39.620
No answer, just the house settling.
00:09:39.620 --> 00:09:47.489
He told himself Old wood, old wood.
00:09:47.489 --> 00:09:49.692
But the whisper came again closer.
00:09:49.692 --> 00:09:52.918
He sees you Right beside his ear.
00:09:54.299 --> 00:09:58.370
He spun around, heart hammering, nothing.
00:09:58.370 --> 00:10:01.831
The feeling of being watched intensified.
00:10:01.831 --> 00:10:03.793
A cold weight on his back.
00:10:03.793 --> 00:10:11.837
He worked, trying to focus on the rhythmic scrape of the brush, the smell of the unnerving paint filling his lungs.
00:10:11.837 --> 00:10:15.899
The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating.
00:10:17.360 --> 00:10:23.783
As he worked near the desk his hand brushed something under a stack of papers A small leather-bound journal.
00:10:23.783 --> 00:10:28.027
Curiosity, morbid and irresistible, drew him.
00:10:28.027 --> 00:10:40.457
He glanced at Mrs Gable, still silent.
00:10:40.457 --> 00:10:41.823
He slipped the journal out, old Brittle.
00:10:41.823 --> 00:10:48.270
He opened it, spidery, faded handwriting May 17th.
00:10:48.270 --> 00:10:48.691
The shell weakens.
00:10:48.691 --> 00:10:49.391
The binder must be refreshed.
00:10:49.391 --> 00:10:51.492
The offering of life, the final coat, must be true blue.
00:10:51.492 --> 00:10:54.554
Essence for color, flesh for permanence.
00:10:54.554 --> 00:10:56.956
His blood ran cold.
00:10:56.956 --> 00:11:04.342
Essence, flesh, permanence, the smell of the paint.
00:11:05.724 --> 00:11:09.366
He slammed the journal shut, looked at Mrs Gable.
00:11:09.366 --> 00:11:20.649
She was watching him, her black eyes alight, with a terrible knowing, reading my diary, mr Hurley.
00:11:20.649 --> 00:11:22.533
Her voice was soft, but it cut through him.
00:11:22.533 --> 00:11:24.817
No, ma'am, I, I just.
00:11:24.817 --> 00:11:27.021
He fumbled with the book.
00:11:27.021 --> 00:11:32.614
She chuckled a dry, rattling sound.
00:11:32.614 --> 00:11:39.393
Some stories are meant to be read, some endings are meant to be written.
00:11:39.452 --> 00:11:47.812
He stood frozen, the journal in his hand, the smell of the paint, thick and sweet in the air.
00:11:47.812 --> 00:11:51.138
That paint, she said, gesturing to the can.
00:11:51.138 --> 00:11:53.923
The binder is unique.
00:11:53.923 --> 00:11:58.790
It requires a living contribution.
00:11:58.790 --> 00:11:59.971
What are you talking about?
00:11:59.971 --> 00:12:02.213
His voice was hoarse.
00:12:02.213 --> 00:12:08.058
Her smile widened, revealing dark gums around surprisingly white teeth.
00:12:08.058 --> 00:12:16.146
The house needs to live, mr Hurley, and something lives in the house, something that requires sustenance.
00:12:24.312 --> 00:12:26.389
The whisper came again, louder, deeper, resonating in the bones of the house we hunger.
00:12:26.389 --> 00:12:28.451
Jimmy dropped the journal.
00:12:28.451 --> 00:12:29.173
It landed on the drop cloth.
00:12:29.173 --> 00:12:29.633
With house we hunger.
00:12:29.633 --> 00:12:30.333
Jimmy dropped the journal.
00:12:30.333 --> 00:12:30.975
It landed on the drop cloth.
00:12:30.975 --> 00:12:34.117
With a soft thud he backed away slowly.
00:12:34.117 --> 00:12:42.566
Mrs Gable's expression shifted, losing the pretense of frail age, becoming something ancient and predatory.
00:12:42.566 --> 00:12:55.181
You were a good choice, mr Hurley, she said her voice strong, chillingly clear, healthy, full of vitality, the perfect pigment.
00:12:55.181 --> 00:12:59.439
Nope, fuck this place, I'm done here.
00:13:00.509 --> 00:13:03.519
He turned and started walking out at a brisk pace.
00:13:03.519 --> 00:13:09.350
He burst out of the study through the shrouded rooms into the dark hallway.
00:13:09.350 --> 00:13:18.010
He fumbled with the front door, his hand shaking the knob, eluding his grasp Behind him.
00:13:18.010 --> 00:13:28.981
The shuffling came faster and the whisper no longer a whisper but a guttural, hungry sound that filled the house, ours.
00:13:28.981 --> 00:13:34.361
He yanked the door open and stumbled out onto the porch, gasping for air.
00:13:34.361 --> 00:13:39.020
He scrambled down the sagging steps, boots slipping on the gravel.
00:13:39.020 --> 00:13:42.519
He reached his truck, keys shaking.
00:13:42.519 --> 00:13:45.514
He jammed it in the ignition, turned it.
00:13:45.514 --> 00:13:50.823
Click, click, click, click, click, dead.
00:13:50.823 --> 00:13:55.902
He tried again, frantically, nothing.
00:13:55.902 --> 00:13:58.790
He heard something behind him.
00:13:58.790 --> 00:14:08.198
Slow, deliberate, he froze, turned Slowly, terribly.
00:14:09.840 --> 00:14:18.626
Standing on the porch, silhouetted against the dark doorway, was a figure, not Mrs Gable.
00:14:18.626 --> 00:14:26.557
This was taller, broader, a shape defined by the absence of light.
00:14:26.557 --> 00:14:36.893
Its face was indistinct, its eyes twin voids, and in its hand dripping with the thick, bruised blue paint, it held a paintbrush.
00:14:36.893 --> 00:14:42.707
It started walking towards him, slow, inexorable.
00:14:42.707 --> 00:14:45.923
Jimmy kept trying to start the truck.
00:14:45.923 --> 00:14:49.203
Click, click, click.
00:14:49.203 --> 00:14:55.447
The air grew heavy, the sweet, coppery smell intensifying.
00:14:55.447 --> 00:15:01.067
He had left the window down and with a dead battery, it was stuck down.
00:15:01.067 --> 00:15:04.543
The figure was right outside his door.
00:15:04.543 --> 00:15:06.697
It raised the brush.
00:15:06.697 --> 00:15:16.977
A final whisper seeming to come from the house itself, from the figure, from the very air around him.
00:15:16.977 --> 00:15:20.601
Become the color Mr Hurley.
00:15:20.601 --> 00:15:23.807
Then the brush descended.
00:15:23.807 --> 00:15:27.191
It wasn't a blow, it was a touch.
00:15:28.414 --> 00:15:39.206
The cold, thick paint smeared across his face, but it didn't just sit on his skin, it sank in like ink on blotting paper.
00:15:39.206 --> 00:15:44.915
A searing cold spread through him, radiating from where the paint touched.
00:15:44.915 --> 00:15:49.845
His skin felt taut, then began to tighten, to stiffen.
00:15:49.845 --> 00:15:57.462
The smell of the paint was overwhelming, filling his mouth, his nose, his lungs.
00:15:57.462 --> 00:15:59.225
He couldn't breathe.
00:15:59.225 --> 00:16:06.596
He tried to scream, but the sound was choked off, turning into a gurgling gasp.
00:16:06.596 --> 00:16:20.542
As the blue spread, creeping across his face, down his neck, onto his arms, his body felt heavy, rigid, like drying plaster.
00:16:20.542 --> 00:16:28.979
He could feel his substance changing, becoming dense, opaque, the texture of drying paint.
00:16:28.979 --> 00:16:35.115
His vision blurred the world, narrowing to the terrifying blue consuming him.
00:16:35.115 --> 00:16:42.447
He felt himself pulled, drawn towards the house, towards the study, towards the wall.
00:16:42.447 --> 00:16:49.106
In some supernatural way his consciousness fragmented, scattering like droplets of paint.
00:16:49.106 --> 00:16:51.282
Then he blacked out.
00:16:52.514 --> 00:16:57.861
Jimmy Hurley didn't just die, he was absorbed.
00:16:57.861 --> 00:17:07.150
His life, his energy, his very being was the essence, the binder for the final coat.
00:17:07.150 --> 00:17:14.469
He was pressed into the wall, becoming part of the pigment, the permanence the journal spoke of.
00:17:14.469 --> 00:17:21.059
The Blackwood Ridge estate stood silent.
00:17:21.059 --> 00:17:27.670
The study walls a vibrant, unnatural blue, were finished, bound for a time.
00:17:27.670 --> 00:17:45.655
Jimmy Hurley, the retired painter with a wife named Karen, down by the sea, was gone, incorporated into the fabric of the house, a permanent, unseen part of its terrible history a living, breathing coat of paint on the wall of Mrs Gable's study.
00:17:45.655 --> 00:17:52.949
Karen would wait, she would call his cell phone, she would call the police.
00:17:52.949 --> 00:18:00.900
They would investigate, but all they would find is a little old lady that had her study painted a very odd blue color.
00:18:00.900 --> 00:18:07.142
She would eventually accept he was missing, but she would never find him.
00:18:07.142 --> 00:18:13.682
He was already home, or what remained of him was.
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