He Who Follows Me tapenoise

And now, the Hall of Fantasy dedicated to the Supernatural, the unusual, and the unknown. Come with me, my friends. We go to the center of the world with the unknown and forbidden. Down to the depths where the veil of time is lifted, and the supernatural reigns is kicked.

Come with me and this is the table. death that walks. How did he come to get that name? Because people around here have seen him at night. But he's dead. That's right. He's dead. And they've seen him walking.

It must be their imagination. Hey, their imaginations. I know. I've seen him myself. What are you trying to do? Frightness? I'm trying to frighten you, Nan. I don't have to. He'll frighten you. Mr. Tannus, the death that walks because he'll come for you.

You'd come for you. In just a moment, the Hall of Fantasy will present, He Who Follows Me, and now for our story. Adapted for radio by Richard Thorne, entitled, He Who Follows Me. I have before me the diary of a dead man.

He and his wife are my best friends. The words he has written down tell a tale so fantastic it's almost impossible to believe. Yet I know that Bill and Helen Mason lived the last few months of their lives in dread fear of the slow steps that followed them.

It is late evening as I read his words. I have come to their house now so empty and sit in the large overstuffed leather chair in the library. Outside rain pummels against the side of the house.

The wind blows the fall leaves from the trees and the sound of thunder gives vent to the anger of the stove. There's something in the house. Attention. The fear, perhaps. I feel almost as if unseen eyes were watching me, as if someone is here with me, here in this room.