In "Unfathomable Home," an ordinary couple finds their dream house marred by inexplicable occurrences. As they navigate the challenges of their new life, the home begins to reveal its true nature. Whispers without a source, shadows with no form, and an oppressive sense of being watched escalate into a silent struggle against an unseen entity. The couple must unravel the house’s cryptic past to restore peace, walking a tightrope between the natural and the supernatural, where the difference between imagination and reality becomes dangerously blurred.
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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. [Music] I see it with its glowing green eyes, staring at me from the closet. Wake up! I nudged my husband, attempting to rouse him, but his snoring drowned me out. Wake up! I shook him vigorously, causing him to waken. What's wrong? There's something in there, I said, gesturing toward the closet. Aren't you a little old to be imagining there's a monster in the closet? Turn on the light and go check. I'm Rayla. There's nothing there, see? But I... I'm sure whatever you're seeing is a figment of your imagination. It was some sort of bad dream. I threw the covers over my head, feeling embarrassed and depressed. Mike crawled back under the covers and put his arm around me. Try to go back to sleep, baby. This is a new house, and you can't let the new environment get deep. He kissed my cheek and rolled back on his side. I know it's there, staring at me with its eyes from the closet, but I can't wake Mike again. If I keep up this craziness every night, you might think I'm mentally ill. I'll lay here with my eyes shut and try to count sheep. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep, four sheep, five sheep, six sheep. Oh, who am I kidding? This won't work. It didn't even work when I was a little girl. I won't be able to sleep tonight as long as I'm in this room. I sat up in bed, fixating on the closet that sparked fear within me. Why won't you reveal yourself? I scrutinized the closet, trying to understand why it was so terrifying. I grabbed a blanket and pillow, heading downstairs to the couch. The sun of coffee and a gentle shake from my husband woke me up in the morning. You okay? I stretched, running my hands through my disheveled brown hair. I had trouble sleeping. Really? I slept like a baby. Isn't this house amazing? Yeah, it's a real dream house. Stop it. Having a bad dream doesn't mean this house is haunted or anything like that. I already told you. It's a new environment. Give it some time. I let out a deep sigh and shook my head, feeling a little down. I wanted to scream at him, to tell him that what I saw in the closet was real. It had kept me up all night, but instead, I replied, "You're right, but I think I'll take a personal day from work. I could use some extra sleep, and spending some time alone in the house will help me." Mike smiled and leaned down, kissing my forehead. Alright, if that's what you think is best, go ahead. Maybe it'll help you sleep better tonight. Thanks. Have a great day at work. I sank back into the couch, letting its comfort envelop me as I stared up at the ceiling. What was I so scared of? Mike was correct. It might have been only a house. It's possible that it was all in my mind. I got up to go to the bathroom, passing by the closet on the way. I gave it a glare before continuing on. In the shower, the warm water helped relax my muscles and relieve some of my stress, until the image of the glowing eyes returned. Damn it, it's a closet! It hit the wall of the shower. I need to face my fear. After my shower, I carried more boxes from the kitchen to the bedroom, placing them on the bed. I opened the closet to take a look. It had a bar to hang clothes on the right side, and a door that led to the attic when he looked straight ahead. The walls were white, like the bedroom walls. So why was I so afraid of this closet? What did I see at night? I ran my hand on the wall, hoping to find some secret passage or button to open something up. But there was nothing. It was a closet. Stepping out, the image of the glowing eyes reappeared in my mind, and I shivered a little. I grabbed a box and placed it in the closet, trying not to think of the image. But as I stepped over the floor, a loud squeaking noise caught my attention. I jumped a bit. It sounded like a loose board. Crouching down to the floor, I pressed my ear to the ground, pressing down on the board. The floor squeaked again. I stood back up, and a sweet scent filled my nose. Odd, I wasn't cooking anything. I gazed at the attic door, seeing smoke seeping from underneath it. Without hesitation, I flew the door open and was met with a thick cloud of smoke. In the haze, something snatched me, dragging me off and tossing me head first into the 2x4 sticking out from the attic entryway. I got up, and the smoke cleared. But my forehead throbbed with pain. There was no blood, which was unexpected. Looking around, I tried to figure out what had grabbed me or where the strange fog came from. That's when I remember the eyes and the closet staring back at me. I rushed out of the closet, slamming the door behind me. My ears streamed down my face as I slid down the door. I cried like a ten-year-old, feeling lost and unsure of what to do. I couldn't tell Mike, afraid he would think I'm crazy. So, what else could I do but cry? My sobs were cut short by Mike's early arrival. "Abrela, I'm home early." I tried to wipe my eyes, but my makeup was smeared beyond repair. I stood up straight as Mike came upstairs to greet me. "Honey? What's wrong?" "Nothing," I lied. "Don't give me that. Something's bothering you. You look like you've been..." He paused, noticing me standing behind the closet. "Is this about the closet?" "Don't be ridiculous, Mike. It's a closet. Why would it have anything to do with this?" He pushed me aside and opened the closet door, revealing a box inside. I looked down, trying to think of a lie. My depression prevented me from making up an excuse. "You're going to think I'm crazy when I tell you this, but the closet did this to me." It filled with mist or fog and something grabbed me out of it. It threw me into one of the two by fours in the attic. Mike held back a smirk and cleared his throat. "So, something in there grabbed you? Honey?" "Mike, I'm not making this up!" I stomped out of the room, going downstairs. Covering myself in blankets and cried like a ten-year-old once again. After what felt like an eternity, I heard Mike descending the stairs. He heard my weeping and approached the couch. "Honey, why don't you tell me what's going on so I can help you?" I pushed away my sawabs and yelled at him. "The only thing that can help me now is for you to get away from me." He left the room and didn't speak to me for the rest of the night. He stayed under the covers, smelling the aroma of Mike cooking dinner. He didn't bother coming in to offer me any, whether it was because I asked him to leave me alone or because he was angry at me for shouting at him. It didn't matter, either way. Time was the only thing that could help me now. Time was a healing process. If this thing was a figment of my imagination, it would go away with time. Hours passed, and I still found myself hiding under the covers with a small opening for air. I looked at the clock on top of the TV. It was past midnight, and I was still awake on the couch. If I didn't fall asleep soon, I would have to take another personal day off from work. The couch was not very comfortable, and after one night, my body was already protesting. So, I decided to make my way upstairs to the bedroom. As I laid in my spot beside my husband, I turned my back to the closet and didn't wrap my arms around him. I wanted to be cold to the world. This was how I dealt with my problems. I closed my eyes and let the comfort of my bed take over me. To my surprise, I fell asleep. I was awakened by a creaking noise. I kept my back turned to the closet as I let out a silent gulp. It didn't matter that my back was turned towards the closet, because this time, I could hear whatever it was, breathing. It wasn't human. I could tell from its breathing, which sounded like a low growl. I rolled over and looked at the closet, hoping to see some kind of shape or figure. But the room was too dark to make anything out. The only thing I could see were the eyes. The big, green, glowing eyes. Again. Alright, let's see what you are. I got out of bed and made my way over to the closet. The eyes and the closet had disappeared now, just like before. But the only difference was that I didn't wake Mike or turn the light on, grabbing the flashlight off the headboard of our bed. As I stepped into the closet, everything was completely different. The walls that were once white were now red and shaped like an oval. I ran my hands on the side of the wall, observing its structure. It felt like it had bones forced into its architecture. I stood up and shone the light farther down the closet, which seemed like a cave now. In the distance, I heard a dripping noise. "What are you? And what do you want from me?" I walked deeper into the cave, thinking. I must have been in the middle part of the cave by now, considering I couldn't see the opening of the closet door anymore. And the dripping noise sounded a lot closer now. I was thrown off task of my quest when I heard my husband cry out in fear. I ran down the path that I came in from, getting back to the entrance of the closet. Before I could run out the door, it slammed shut in place. I pulled on the handle, trying to get the door to open, but it was sealed shut. Behind the door, I heard my husband screaming bloody murder, almost like he was getting hacked apart piece by piece. The pounding on the door is tears screamed down my face. "Don't hurt him! Take me! I'm the one you want!" I kicked and hit the door, but it was no use. A scream ceased, and I wept uncontrollably, especially at the sound of a supersonic gosh. I curled into a ball, rocking back and forth. My tears flowing freely. After some time, the closet door creaked open. I left the room, shielding one side of my face, not wanting to face my husband's mutilated body. As I walked through the house, I felt a warm liquid under my feet, unmistakably in my husband's blood. From the other end of the room, I heard the breathing once again. I sprinted out of the master bedroom, avoiding slipping in the blood, closing and holding the door shut behind me. The creature clawed at the door, trying to escape the room. These strains to hold the handle, but it was too much. Eventually, I released it and ran down the stairs to the front door. The creature followed me, pounding down the stairs. I unlocked the front door, opening it, and then locking it behind me, slamming it shut. I tumbled to the yard, face down. Behind me, I heard the creature mauling at the door. Barrel rolling, I got up running into the garage, grabbing the gas can and the lighter, and returned to the house. There's something in the house. I poured gasoline around the house, slowly and precisely, making sure that even the corners were coated. There's something in the house. I repeated myself as I made my way around the house. I held the lighter up to my face, inspecting the flame closely, then laid it down and ignited the gasoline. The house burst into flames, staring at the burning house, where my loving husband and I had shared so many memories. This year has rolled down my cheeks. It's all because of this house! We had to move here of all places instead of waiting. It couldn't have been any other house in this neighborhood. It had to be this one. I snapped back to reality when a police officer pulled me away from the place. I was escorted into the back seat of a cop car. My body trembling with fear, as one of the officers tried to question me. What did you see in the house? He said, attempting to calm me down. There's something in the house. We've already checked the area, ma'am. There's nothing there. If your husband was in the house, I'm sorry to say he's gone now. I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. I know my husband is gone. It killed him. What killed him? The only thing we saw was you standing there with blood on your feet and a gas can in your hand. So you tell me who looks guilty here. It's coming from me. My eyes widened with fear when I heard a low growl emanated from the flames of the house. I watched an oar as a massive 15-foot tall figure emerged from the ember. The firefighters on the scene were the first to go. The three-headed creature tossed them in the air and they vowed they had a piece of candy. Then it made its way towards the other cops and paramedics on the scene. What the hell is that thing? Shit! I watched an oar as everyone around the house was slaughtered one by one. I kicked the side of the police car window with my dry, bloody foot. After a few kicks, the window finally gave way. I crawled through and jumped into the driver's seat, flipping the siren on, taking off as fast as the car could go. I didn't know what that thing was or wasn't going to let it get me. I drove to the police station to explain everything that happened. People looked at me like I was crazy and took me to a psych ward. Now, I live out my days, taking drugs to sleep and surrounded by padded walls. It's better this way. No more closets. They might think I'm crazy. But I saw and witnessed what happened that night. I can't understand what happened. I'm not going to get it. I'm not going to get it. I'm not going to get it. I'm not going to get it. I'm not going to get it. I'm not going to get it. I'm not going to get it. I'm not going to get it. I'm not going to get it. I'm not going to get it. I'm not going to get it. I'm not going to get it. I'm not going to get it. I'm not going to get it. I'm not going to get it. I'm not going to get it. I'm not going to get it. I'm not going to get it. 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