In "The Writer's Retreat," Maura Glenwood, a talented yet beleaguered novelist, escapes to a modern cabin in a secluded forest, seeking peace and inspiration to finish her latest book. However, her retreat takes an unexpected turn as she experiences eerie occurrences and encounters ghostly figures that challenge her understanding of reality. As she delves deeper into her writing, the boundaries between her personal demons and the cabin's mysterious past blur, forcing Maura to confront her own history of trauma and self-doubt. In this hauntingly atmospheric tale, Maura's journey of self-discovery becomes intertwined with the supernatural, revealing that the true horror may not lie in the shadows of the forest, but within the depths of her own mind.
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(upbeat music) This episode is brought to you by Experian. Are you paying for subscriptions you don't use, but can't find the time or energy to cancel them? Experian could cancel unwanted subscriptions for you, saving you an average of $270 per year, and plenty of time. Download the Experian app. Results will vary, not all subscriptions are eligible. Savings are not guaranteed. Paid membership with connected payment account required. (upbeat music) It's time for Tales of Terror, only on the mutual audio network. The following audio drama is rated R, and is recommended restricted for anyone under the age of 17. (dramatic music) (dramatic music) At last, it's even prettier than the pictures promised. A gem hidden away from the world. My world. (dramatic music) (tense music) And what a view. Perfect. Even in the tempest. (tense music) (tense music) (sighs) From one storm to another. Not tonight, Ethan. For the next week, I'm away from the world, but would you even know if I was gone? Would you even care? When my fans? Fans? What fans? The only thing writing has gotten me is further in debt and filled with nothing, but joblessness and heartache. I was lucky I was even able to get this place when I did, only due to pulling all of my 401k. This is it though. The last few chapters of this book and I'm done with writing for good. I'm not going to let anyone ruin this for me. So not here. For the next few weeks, this is my sanctuary. My story. The last chapters. The closing of one life chapter and the opening of another. This is more than a book. It's my farewell to the past. Hello to my future. I like to live by the motto, "Never look back, only go forward." The closing of this book will be that. Hello, anyone here? I'm not here to jump at shadows. I'm here to write and leave all the negativity behind. Focus, more a Glenwood. Did I seriously just call myself my full name? God, I used to hate it when my mother did that. It's getting late. Perhaps I should call it a night. Might as well enjoy the view. Put the last finishing touches on this chapter outside and sip on some coffee. Nothing but me and nature to help me relax. Coffee and writing go hand in hand. That's for sure. Hello? Is anyone there? Odd. I know I'm not crazy, but I swear I heard someone just now. Focus, Mara. I need to get this book done. Oh, please. I hear you. Keep yelling. I'm coming. Please, please hurry. I'm coming. Hold tight. I'm going to get this off you. I'm miles away from civilization. Where did this guy come from? Is he even real? Or is this another figment of my imagination? Conjured up by the long oars of writing and constant stress of mental abuse from my boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend. Come on, my cabin is this way. Let's get you some help. Where did you even come from? I'm miles away from civilization. I was just out hiking. Happened to travel. Next thing I know, the tree fell on my leg. What's your name, anyways? Seriously. I was your classmate. I'm sorry? You don't remember me? No, I'm sorry, I don't. What the hell? Get off. Shouldn't you be writing? (laughing) It's face lowered down closer to mine. I turned my head away, being overcome with darkness. I found myself teleported back to my childhood. Standing, holding my mother's hand. Feeling sad. Standing in front of a teacher at a parent teacher conference meeting. I'm sorry Ms. Glenwood, but your daughter just isn't getting it. What do you mean she's not getting it? Isn't it your job to teach her to get it? I've tried, but the only thing she wants to do is sit and doodle on her notebook while I'm teaching. Don't you have special one-on-one classes to help her? No, I'm sorry we don't. We're going to have to hold your daughter back at grade. I feel it will be the best decision for her and at least this way she can learn. Why don't you go and wait in the car, honey? This might be a while. Following my mother's orders, I made my way back to the truck. The only thing I had on me at the time was a notebook. I decided to work on comics I had used to draw. These were just doodles. Put something to kill the time. I remember now. After about 30 minutes or so, my mother came back fuming. I protested to her how I didn't want to be held back and how I would do better. But she held firm that it was out of her hands. Ugh, my head. I picked myself up off the floor, looking around the cabin, trying to figure out where the man before went. It would appear he wasn't real and I made him up. Or was he? I should probably check to make sure. Making my way over to the exit of the cabin, I grabbed a bag of supplies continuing onward down the path where I helped the man. My eyes constantly shifted downward, looking for a blood path. But there was nothing in there. Making my way farther into the woods where I found the man underneath the large branch, he wasn't there. But the branch still laid in the middle of the walkway. Using all of my might, I shoved the branch off the path. At least this way you can't hurt anyone anymore. I started back down the trail toward my cabin when I heard a sweet ghostly voice call out my name. I stopped looking at my surroundings, trying to figure out where it came from. Hello? Is anyone there? No response, of course. I really need to get a grasp on myself. I'm never going to finish this book unless I do. [SCREAMING] Nope. I ran back to the cabin, feeling like someone or something was chasing after me. When I got to the front door of the cabin, I found it locked. You can't be serious. Did I lock myself out of the cabin? Come on, open, damn you. Seriously? What the hell was that about? Something's not right here. This place feels off. No! Did you not hear me, I'm a bitch? I called for you. What? What do you want? Don't you remember me? Stay back. The demonic woman opens her mouth, taking a chunk out of my cheek. The darkness consumes me once again. Maura, do you know why we called you in here today? I got to be honest, I don't. Maura, you have been with us now for two weeks. This job isn't a hard job, and I've tried to be patient with you. But you just aren't getting it. What is there not to get? You're never around when I need to ask a question. So of course, I'm going to be lost. I've only been here two weeks. We got to let you go, Maura. You just aren't getting it. We're here in the only char growing up. I failed to see what that has to do with anything. It's nothing to be ashamed of. My husband was an only char too. They just seem very entitled. Whatever. Entitled. They call me entitled? Because I dared to ask questions. Because I dared to expect more from a soulless job? If striving for a life beyond the relentless, mind-numbing grind of a 9-5 is entitlement, then so be it. They are the ones complicit in this hellscape society, where creativity is stifled under the weight of mundane routines. Well, I refuse to be another cog in that machine. I'll show them what it means to break free, to live and create on my own terms. My success will be my rebellion, my writing, my revolution. Maura, this manuscript, it's incredible. The depth, the emotion. You've really outdone yourself. It's more than just a story. It's my journey, my confrontation with every voice that ever told me I couldn't. That it was too much or not enough. And now those voices will see what Mark Lynnwood is truly capable of. This book will take the world by storm. Let it. This is more than a book. It's my declaration. My story isn't one of entitlement. It's one of resilience. Of finding my voice in the silence and shadows, those ghostly figures, the echoes of my past, they tried to haunt me to hold me back. But in writing my story, I've set myself free. I work out of the office. My head held high, ready to face whatever comes next with the strength I've found within myself.
