Lot 151 : Don’t Keep It Too Long

The Antiquarium of Sinister Happenings

A mysterious stone, passed from a stranger to the protagonist, brings an escalating series of supernatural terrors. The narrator experiences

Key takeaways

• The protagonist encounters a trembling man who leaves behind a smooth, cold stone with mysterious symbols.
• Supernatural activity begins with the sound of bare feet walking on the ceiling of the narrator's home.

Main topics

• Cursed artifacts
• Paranormal encounters

Notable quotes

Don't Keep It Too Long.

Conclusion

A chilling exploration of the inescapable nature of certain objects an

Transcript preview

Speaker 2 (0:03) K equals W. Speaker 5 (0:07) Hello, dear friend. Welcome back. It's remarkable how easily objects pass from one person to another. We buy them, sell them, give them away, lose them. Sometimes we simply leave them behind. And eventually, someone else picks them up. A small, polished stone. Speaker 5 (0:40) Smooth, nearly cylindrical, and unusually cold to the touch. There are markings beneath its surface, though I confess I haven't been able to identify them. Perhaps you will have better luck. The account accompanying it is entitled, Don't Keep It Too Long. An interesting bit of advice. Speaker 5 (1:10) Before we begin, I want to point out some of the customers whose names have been etched in brass on this beautiful plaque I had made above the front desk. These are some of the members of the inner circle of the Antiquarium. We go by the Obsidian Covenant. Recent initiates include NML, Tasha, Kendra Hill, Dommy, and Kelly Sanidas. Speaker 2 (1:44) We Speaker 5 (1:46) are ever appreciative of your devotion to the Order. Go to theobsidiancovenant.com to receive the sacrament. Now, where were we? Oh, yes. Welcome to the antiquarium of sinister happenings and odd goings-on. Speaker 2 (2:44) I try not to hate myself for what I've done. I keep telling myself that I'm not the first, and surely won't be the last. There was simply no other choice. I was walking home after doing a bit of shopping, a bag of groceries in each hand. I'm fortunate enough to live in a fairly walkable city, so I try to avoid driving as often as I can. Besides, the part of town I lived in was quite pleasant, and I enjoy getting a bit of fresh air and some exercise. Speaker 2 (3:20) As I pondered what I was going to make myself for dinner that evening, absentmindedly looking at various storefronts and signs that grabbed my attention, I suddenly collided with someone, my bags immediately falling to the ground. Speaker 6 (3:32) Oh, God, I'm so sorry. Speaker 2 (3:35) He knelt down and began helping me pick up my groceries. Fortunately, nothing I bought that day was especially breakable. Otherwise, I would have been much more irritated. Speaker 2 (3:46) He was a college student, perhaps. He definitely had the rather ragged appearance of an overworked academic. Dark bags under his eyes, unshaven stubble, and an ill-fitting tweed coat with patches on the elbows. He seemed to be trembling, as if he were afraid of something. At the time, I just assumed he was anxious after our little collision. Speaker 2 (4:09) He kept apologizing, too, mumbling, I'm Speaker 6 (4:13) sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Speaker 2 (4:18) I'm sorry. Over and over again as he picked up the various foodstuffs that had been scattered across the pavement. It's alright, I should have looked where I was going. I insisted, examining a box of crackers to make sure it wasn't crushed too badly before placing it back into the bag. The man handed me the other bag of groceries, and I thanked him. Speaker 2 (4:41) As we both stood up, he looked me dead in the eyes and said, Speaker 6 (4:46) Listen, no. I'm sorry. Speaker 2 (4:54) Before I could ask him what he meant by this, he took off running into the crowd, and I was left standing on the sidewalk, puzzled. Speaker 2 (5:11) I arrived home about 15 minutes after my encounter with the man on the sidewalk and began putting away my groceries in the pantry. About halfway through the process, however, I found something odd at the bottom of one of the bags, the one the man had handed to me. I pulled the object out of the bag, staring at it, puzzled. It appeared to be nothing more than a smooth, flat stone. It was shiny and polished, and it was around the size and shape of a half-dollar coin. It was unusually cool to the touch. As I held the stone up to the light, I noticed some faint, barely discernible symbols on its surface. But they didn't appear to be carved or painted on. Instead, it seemed as if they were a part of the structure of the rock itself, like the cross-section of a fossil. I'm not much of an expert on languages, and I never did manage to identify any of the symbols on it. But I suppose they looked vaguely like the letters of ancient Greek, perhaps? Though, even that is a loose comparison at best. I'll be honest, I had no idea what to think at the time. I assumed it must have been some sort of viral marketing campaign or social media trend of some sort. I set the stone down on the counter and finished packing up the groceries, forgetting about it. Speaker 2 (6:34) I made myself a simple dinner of some vegetable fried rice and watched a movie before getting ready for bed. I brushed my teeth, made my bed, and turned off all the lights in the house, double-checking that the doors and the windows were all shut and locked as I did so. This is very important. It must be understood that I always make sure that my doors and windows are securely locked before I go to bed. I've always been a bit paranoid, and even though I live in a fairly crime-free neighborhood, I still worry about burglars. Speaker 2 (7:05) When I was satisfied that my home was suitably impervious to intruders, I began to change out of my day clothes into some pajamas. As I was removing my pants, I felt something strange bulging in my left pocket. I reached in and pulled out the stone, smooth and cool against my hand, glinting slightly in the light of my bedside lamp. That's strange. I could have sworn I left this on the counter. I must have picked it up without thinking about it. Speaker 2 (7:38) I set it down on the bedside table, feeling a little unnerved. Everyone occasionally forgets where they put something, only to find they were carrying it with them all along. But this was different. I distinctly remembered setting it down on the kitchen counter. Speaker 2 (7:57) Regardless, I managed to drift off to sleep with the aid of a melatonin tablet and a little bit of white noise. I've always been a light sleeper, so I usually have to have some faint sound or another to listen to when I go to bed in order to avoid waking up at every creak and groan of my house settling. I woke up at around twelve, to the sound of footsteps coming from inside my house. I live alone, and my house doesn't share any walls with anyone else, so it couldn't have been me hearing a neighbor getting up for a midnight snack. I don't keep any pets, either. I shot up in bed, listening intensely, trying to gauge where the sound was coming from. I turned off the white noise to make sure I could hear properly. All was silent for a few painful moments, and I worried I may have simply imagined it. But then I heard it again. The slap of bare feet against wood. I grabbed the flashlight I kept in the drawer of the bedside table and began to creep through the house. The flashlight was the sort that was designed for use in self-defense, with a strobe setting and sharp protrusions at the front. It wasn't much, but I felt a little safer having it in my hands. I followed my ears whenever I heard the footsteps recur, eventually making my way to