Intro (Click to reveal)

Rusty Quill Presents:

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(Cassette tape is inserted into a tape recorder)

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(Footsteps grow closer)

(Someone writes on a piece of paper)

(Cole clears his throat)

Cole

This is entry zero zero two. Original exchange is dated October 4th, 1998. Original narrator is... Jesse S.

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Jesse

This is the first time I've hung out with my brother in years. Well, I'm always around - we live in the same house, and, I'm constantly trying to get his attention, but... he's just so busy, these days.

I guess we just grew apart. Sometimes it's as simple as that. No argument, no screaming, no tears... Sometimes in life people just grow apart, finding themselves with little to speak about. It's sad, I suppose. We used to be so close. We used to do everything together.

I remember, when I was younger, not many people would show up to my birthday parties. That happens, when you're born in July, and everyone has better places to be. Usually there'd be a small group of us... maybe three, or four? Mostly the same people every year - the kids either too poor to take a yearly vacation, or with parents too hellbent on living their own lives.

But one year, no one came to my birthday. I was so embarrassed. I wanted to have a sleepover so badly, I'd spent all day decorating my basement den, putting in too many hours to make the optimal movie-watching pit, borrowing blankets and pillows from beds all over the house, leaving my mom, dad, and brother with the bare minimum.

I prepared bowls of chips, and begged my mom to let me get a very wide assortment of candy. If you knew my mom, you'd know what a big deal that was. And I'd gone to the video store - not once, but twice.

Once, with my mother, who had very strict views on what was and wasn't appropriate for a young girl to watch - and then again with my dad, who had a much more liberal view, and the same itch for scary movies as me. He swore me to secrecy and made me promise to wait until after eleven - when my mom's sleeping pills kicked in - before putting in Poltergeist.

To make the memory even more embarrassing, as we left the store, I turned to my dad, anxiety and worry and excitement all overflowing, as I pleaded with him to let me rent another - you know, just in case the other girls didn't wanna sleep yet, and we were having too much fun. So we went back, and rented Poltergeist II.

I was so embarrassed when not a single person showed that year. The glassy look of pity in my parents eyes was... too much. They didn't know how to make it better, and... that's fine, because anything they would've done would only have made me feel worse.

So I just sat in the basement den, watching A Walk to Remember, quietly crying... Until my little brother confidently strode in front of the TV. A smirk slowly but knowingly split his face into two mischievous halves.

"Jesse! Do you want to watch a scary movie? Dad told me he let you rent a scary movie," he whispered. With tears streaking my face, I couldn't help but laugh. He was always a goofy kid. And it was such an exaggerated, ridiculous whisper.

I'll always remember that night. I think it might've been the best birthday I ever had. We ended the night with an ouija board out on the coffee table... giggling to ourselves so hard our stomach muscles cramped.

I wish I could say that became our 'thing' - you know, something that we did together semi-regularly. Something we shared. But we grew apart... shortly after that. I still bumped into him, though. We both still live with our parents, but... I mostly just watch as he goes about his life.

It's sad, that we grew apart. But I can't help but smile as I follow him, ouija board under his arm, as we head to the basement. We haven't hung out like this since that failed slumber party, where we stayed up all night together, getting scared and laughing.

As we sit down, he opens the box, and places the ouija board between us. My face is nearly completely taken over by my ear-to-ear grin... but, he looks a lot more serious. I try not to let it bother me - telling myself that the goofy little boy he once was grew up.

He unfolds the board, and we each place our fingertips on the planchette. He clears his throat, as if he's about to address a board room of serious old people wearing suits. I don't remember him being so serious. But, I guess, that goofy little boy he once was grew up.

"Jesse? Are you there?" He calls out.

I barely wait for him to finish before I start to giggle, and slide the planchette to 'yes'.

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Outro (Click to reveal)

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Tiny Terrors is an anthology horror podcast produced by Pulp Audio, and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

This episode was directed by Cole Weavers, with sound production and editing by Mike LeBeau.

To find additional information, or to join our Patreon for additional content and ad-free episodes, visit our website www.tinyterrorspod.com.

Follow us on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook @TinyTerrorsPod.

Or join the Pulp Audio Discord by clicking the link in the description below.

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And finally, thanks for listening.

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