I listeners. Is this historic? Wherever and I were story, I want to tell you a story about. stranger There is really no stranger at all. So gather analysing close

It was late in the day the night was sneaking in calling on the grass till one from the summer Sun AIR smiled suite of lilacs and freshly mode grass. Someone was grilling off in the distance right before all the light was dim for the day that was my favorite time to walk. Most people were off the streets, Reading in for a light supper with their families, you could walk down the sidewalk and hear their noise is growing fainter and fainter, as they retired in for the evening resting up for another Dave sprinklers in the front yard, popsicles and hot. dogs, basketball, games and driveways and swimming down by the lake. A few liking bags were popping up here and there blinking in and out of existence,

Summer is the most exciting time of year here. Other families coming up from the city to fill up the ante houses few friendly faces. hello. mom my direction. No one really knows my name or who I am. They just recognize me. My nightly neighbourhood walks, and I like that anonymity, I could come and go as I please with no one It concerned landing in my aunt. Dorothy had called it. She said times. I was so good at a cheat forget I was there. She would always we see Harold walking into a room I was in. I used it to my advantage It has been almost thirty years since I've been back here, but everything seems to be just Where was when I left it, A few more roads and new community building.

The appeal even went so far as to take away the pool, slides sissies, but all in all the same story. A lifetime away. Installing security systems in the city just come back to the same old place, and things couldn't be more the same. Small towns are always more difficult. Kong. Less people too, out the noise, but yet more people to worry over things, the little it that went by the wayside and larger cities like a bland, incomplete in a place like Chicago or even in a smaller supper. Not here too many watching eyes from shaded porches. More listening less from inside there, stuffy homes, windows, wide open

to invite in the cool night air and Dorothy passed away. Finally, from her chronic lung disease, she fought long and hard, but it out twins in the end funny how her one earthly pleasure ended up here. Demise I was eyes. When I got the notice she had left the old like cottage to me. How could you, think I would want the dilapidated old thing. She thought it bring me found. Memories or maybe was the only thing she had left and then maybe I was here you think she had left in the end Dorothy maybe you're onto something I've got it out all the old neighborhoods already being a vacation unity for most people. Some roads were comply. the anti others were completely lit up,

parties lasting until we hours of the morning. and bodies were peppered like sand on the beat the sum one lame roads, wound their way around in a big circle around the town, one major attraction, the lake that's where most people wanted to be. Laying out on the beach or cooling off in the water, Not me, I love the times in the neighborhood were empty client mine, a squirrel crosses my path. You could usually find a random heard of deer or a robe raccoon walking the streets late at night, or in the early hours of the morning there were still quite a bit of woods. Surrounding the area, so there was some kind of wildlife to wander about? I like that. No one thought twice.

When the road department was scraping tat dear up the side of the road, had been an auto accident right. I've moved on from all seems so trivial now Animals are for. The minor leaves its the kind of place you expect to see. People are working working in their yards at all hours of the day. Always a young unattended child on a bicycle too worried about dropping their ice cream cone. Tonight, there's a man creeping up behind them alive. drunk stumble teenager, making them. way home through a timber path too late at night. children left alone to swim in the community like nothing bad, turn happen on vacation. I summaries as time of the year here. No one

his attention in the summer, just like in my old camp days, hours loved summer camp back and middle school, my aunt used to make me go to summer camp to meet new friend, new friends, I was even capable of having friends that was. My answer is getting rid of me for the summer. She had always feared me then repulse by me. Sometimes I feel like she knew maybe not exactly what it was and she knew enough unknowing eyes then that Virginia Slim staring into my soul to many coincidence, her too many accidents to many dead neighbourhood pets.

Whenever I would come home with new things, she knew they weren't gifts give me anything anyways, nobody, the soft, mornin socks or a gift from a fellow camper. She knew I took them. She knew I slept with them. shut them pretended there were mine, she knew the necklace of sea shells were not made, and arts and crafts I had an entire collection from my friends friend. Tat I had never even spoken too, but I felt like I knew because of their possessions and made us closer bonded. I will always remember my first time at camp,

that is when I met and she was alive guard at the lake and I can't counselor, she was beautiful, She was a bit older than I was, but she replied- it may my mother I really like that. One my had ridden my bike past Ann's house, hoping to get a glimpse of her down to the lake with her friends, I had carelessly fallen into some rocks and scratched up my knee and had rushed over fussing over me to make sure I was ok so nice to be worried over. I knew she was mine after there, and I knew she felt it too. I remember one memorable evening at the end of my first summer, camp grew

crowded around five small. For I decided this is my chance to sneak away just for a short. No one would notice. They never did All the counsellors had been by the some were setting off small fireworks. Others were telling scary stories around the campfires I snuck into cabin for ever surgeon it was almost impossible not to make a noise where those squeaky all doors and no matter No one was around two here, except for me and as soon as its snapshot behind me, I saw the reason I left the warmth of the fire and shown necklace

She only war for special occasions. I would have hoped she had worn at that night since it was our last night of camp together, but it was no matter because now I had a piece of an from my collection forever finding and connecting with new people, during their background stories. Where did they come from? What is their family life Are they really? What is their favorite song or park asked? These are the kind of things that interest me the little. It has the main people who they truly are seeing the way assured lies across a person's shoulders. Where did they buy did your mother make them where it did they like that particular pattern, was addressed the only sure readily available at the time, but it.

the same way on me but clothes just like people always seen better when they belong to someone else. One I make the mine into lose my interest. They don't seem special anymore Then I start all over again curious Sometimes I would let my curiosity get. The better of me hate when that feeling started a bubble up heart in my throat? I try to suppress it for as long as I can but it would always come out white hot, in a flash, eventually sickness, I got gotten away with it for the most part. I had a few slip ups here and there nothing ever too noticeable. Maybe I had forgotten

the place, the slacks exactly the right way back into the dresser drawer. Maybe I hadn't care to make sure the shirt was completely button. Backup, like all the others, Sometimes I left out the record. I listen to what pictures. I was admiring harmless really in the scheme of things, people just thought they remembered wrong. Maybe they hadn't Patel shoes away like they thought they had to listen to that album last

just magically appear there now did. I doubt there was always doubt at first. It was all just fun dressing up and other people's clothes, pretending to be them trying to see if I could fit into their close as well as they did feeling like, I finally fed into someone's home and had a family of my own walk a mile in someone else's shoes. Well, I was tired of being me I wanted to be. Then they had it all benchley it of all than to spending the night in their beds, watching tv on their catches, seeing how long I could get away with living in their homes,

They were away for the slow season. That's when I started to get carried away. That's when I got the better of me. I lived in the strangers attic for awhile, while they were still there when they would leave for, were or go to sleep at night. I would make myself at home I took things around the home moved little things from room to room. I was cocky. I even went so far as using their phone while they left alone at times to close. But I still got away. Sadly tonight it will come to an end, though, and what a perfect night for it off for one last visit to Chippewa Court for heading back to the city.

A dusty blue cape cod that I would never be able to afford on a cul de sac off one of the main roads, surprisingly, the road is not remarkably busy, despite being one of the nicest and oldest rose. houses in the community, Only about a fifteen minute walk from my place. I know the way with my eyes closed and only a few houses on the line, all emptying dark, but, more importantly, no dogs, perfect one of the only three lights on the whole lane seems din tonight. Only a old glow and almost feels like an invitation back. I first I just went in for a peak just make sure she was doing ok, all alone in that big house I haven't seen or heard of it.

And the many years I was gone from this place, but assuming I was back at all feeling started creeping its way back up again, but now its special because, and she's all my now. Finally, as I grow closer to the side entrance, I hear a car horn hunk somewhere off in the distance firecrackers. Shoot off a few rods over not loud enough ran to hear. Now, though, with her hearing,

its lying on her bedside table for the evening routine. That's another one of my interests. I find that very interesting, but a person chooses to do night after night. The side door is probably the squeaky used of all entry doors to Anne's place, but it has been my favorite this summer, maybe because it's the most use door too feels like I'm a part of the house when I walk through it like I'm supposed to be here brazen. As soon as I crossed the squeaky door, I am greeted by a small black figure and cap brushes up against my leg. Familiar to my frequent in

urgent, she's mistaken me as one of her own eye scratched the little white spot under her chin before continuing through the home. The aroma of meat, pies and dust balls welcomed me into the kitchen where I noticed the window above the sank is ajar. That's not typical. It's like she's trying to invite something sinister inside curious, my way through the kitchen and dining room down the hall to ends bedroom. The house is dark and quiet The only sounds are that it could Clark, in the living room and the crickets singing outside the kitchen window. as I move through the whole way I can smell the dust coming up from my foot falls on the old dried up carpet. Its ancient just

like the aged, would paneling lining the walls the cracks are starting to it. here and now that my eyes adjusted to the dark and pay solace. Smiles of Muldoon dust: she just can't keep up with the housework anymore. Rage and now all alone poor. An I ever saw quietly crack open the door to aunt bedroom completely necessary she's, they're sleeping so peacefully hearing AIDS lying on her bedside table. How I adore sweet, predictable and I had towards the walking closet Their hanging on the right hand, side is all the vans. Husbands, worldly possessions, suits, dies, teacher two lovers, all still

and folded, as if he's going to pull in the drive need a change of close one day. I Henderson matching pajamas and has led our friend the rabbit baggy, but they'll do just find the night and has been laying out pajamas for her late husband, Edward every night, I visited the summer there's that routine again so sweet I crawl into bed next to her and covers back up with a large quota play down. Just like I have on Sunday nights before I strove her forehead ass. She whispers Goodnight Edward. She still so beautiful. Unfortunately, time has not treated her well, I've got through my visits here that she has been ill. for some time now, referral and weak

no memory left whatsoever. Time is scary thing. It takes no prisoners good night, and I say so. I watch her drift back off to sleep. How You could be to place a pillow of her mouth and nose and watch her eyes back into her head. extinguishing the lie. That was once again. She would be no match for me, but now there would be too easy. I'd rather have some fight out of her. I have waited for this and that's what I enjoy the most: the fight maybe she will wake up from her dreaded disease and realize I'm not Edward, they all say our people. have their ins and outs with Alzheimer's

which even remember me in a moment of clarity, it would break me she didn't Maybe someone will finally knock on the door and demand to know who they saw sneaking in maybe her destiny son will come to take her away and I'll have to take care of them both Duff I've never seen another soul. Is it an this whole summer? I've been back. My thoughts, carry me off to sleep, my sweet and Albert I crash in the kitchen shakes me from my sleep like that, and then I thought to myself of bed to investigate. It already feels a lot cooler, the closer I get to the kitchen, that window might have been over more than I originally thought.

maybe I was asleep for longer than I thought ouch I step on something sharp and my foot feels wet, damn it. What was that as I instinctively go to flip the kitchen light switch, that's what I'm doing and stop the movement This isn't even my house, just my eyes to the darkness to see what caused the promotion Everything is a shadow the window. Half wait a minute, there's no screen in this window. the qr than an would leave this open. She knows better than that. I take a step forward to close the open window, and it all happened very quickly. The bright light

hissing screech then apply, then nothing just darkness, I'm trying to peace. This puzzle back together, jar still so foggy. The shadows again. The last thing I remember is the light flashing on a raccoon jumping from the counter and then being hit over the head with something hard and and must have woken up. When I left the bed and knocked me out, I knew He was a fighter. I've been waiting on her for what feels like ours. She has me locked into some old piping with a lock and chain around my ankles, it's cold damp down here, Edwards pajamas

so thin and uncomfortable. Now, I'm very sore and thirsty as some kind of glass and my foot, I must have stepped on something the reckon had knocked over so quiet. early quiet, I wonder what she has planned for me. She must not be calling the police it has been hours since she knocked me out. I can see light. Peeking in from the one remaining window like the others have been blocked off or covered with something odd. I never noticed that before as more light sneaks its way in, I see a pile of rubbish not to far from me? Maybe there's something in there. I could pick this lock with free myself,

I move closer to the pile of worn out bedding and furniture. I see a rat scurry away, that's not a good sign, I think, to myself I knew times had been rough on an, but not that rough being as careful enquired as I can be, I try to search through I'll find a sharp object or something I can pride with. There must be something use within reach. I hear the toilet fly. water moving through the pipes overhead and must He'll be here. I hope she's, ok, so curious that she had seen. So fragile. Up until now, like any. wrong movement could break her bones into dust. Yet she could carry a full grown man down a flight of stairs and chain. Emma

maybe an has been putting on a show, but for whom Eyes began to focusing on the object I grant from the rubbish as my brains, The country I realise the arms, I'm holding, looks like a bone. Fema and out of gas I swear. I hear laughter from upstairs is starting to take shape. Now there is a hack up, skeleton on the floor before my eyes, partially rat type is an old Betty, Edward Tired

Syria is produced by actually files and David flowers. This episode was written by City Sanderson, read by me, Jake Lenin. Story was modified slightly for audio retailing. can find the original in full on our website full body. Jose is an audio chuck production. So what do you think Chuck proof