This is a story about a family farm and it's lingering lineage.
The O'Sullivan Farm
written by: Brenna Chvilicek
You can read the original story at FullBodyChillsPodcast.com
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This is an unofficial transcript meant for reference. Accuracy is not guaranteed.
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and its lingering lineage. So gather around listen, close I Keenan Teodoro Sullivan the fifth I'm writing this to shed light on. Why I'm about to do what I'm about to do by the time you find this it'll be too late? Spoken words Fortunately, these written words will have to suffice and I need you to pass my reasons onto my parents I could say I'm sorry for doing this it will only cause more pain for some, but I'm not no one deserves my fate, more than I do, and I
Doubt there are many people out there will disagree with me on that. I have been sitting in this Geral sell for three months now, that time, my is good enough for me to realise just exactly what it is that I have done. I know I'm taking the easy way out and that I deserve to rot and sell for the rest of what no doubt would be a long and miserable life but the truth is, I just can't live with myself anymore. If I could live with what I've done, then would be a true psychopath, and I am not, I'm just not You could probably care less about my background, but for the purpose of prolonging the inevitable, I'm to tell you I was born and raised on a fairly successful wheat farm and when I they successful, I mean we were able to sustain a living and support ourselves entirely the profits from the farm.
We could also afford some of the fine things in life. I never really knew what it was like to be truly miserable. That is until now Our farm house was a seven bedroom victorian to migrate great grandfather, build eighteen. Ninety one in the Valley County of Cops Hill I was immensely proud of that house but at the same time I was deftly afraid of it. Trips of our long deceased ancestors dating all the way back to those who lived on the shores of Ireland. Peppered the walls of most of the rooms in our house as a child. I always imagined that the eyes of those portraits were watching every move. I made I was always on my best behaviour when walking down the hallways, because I had it in my head, but my great grandfathers would climb down from their nails to punish me in some terrible and ghostly way if I stepped one toe out of line,
I'd like to say that my anxiety over there had diminished. As I grew older but I am not entirely sure that is the truth especially in light of recent events. The magician The portraits were decisively mail from from a long line of only suns, my grandfather was the only son of an only son My father had no siblings, and neither did I Being as there were, only my mother, Father and I in the house, as I grew up for the seven bedrooms, were completely void of life. to be specific, the only items that filled those rooms where the old black and white, portraits of my age and family members. Decorative furniture to keep up appearances like I said before those pick terrified me no matter what I did. I could never escape their stairs, I avoided the lifeless rooms as much as possible, but despair, migrants father, passed away a number of years ago,
was obsessed with tracing our family history back this far, he possibly could to the shores of Ireland, Needless to say, there were plenty of portraits to go around To make matters worse. I was Oxfam and in the taking my idols at the time I play guitar, needing some space to silence my music. Opted for the only room remotely hidden from the view of dead eyes, What was that the tiny com? reach storage room adjoining the seller, became the only place like a practice in peace in the house may for a suffocating experience, and I love for the day when the deceased would finally be exudes from the walls. However, even after my grandfather died, my father didn't have the heart to take the portraits down someone was, they remained.
Years later, my father passed the farm onto me when he mom decided they wanted to retire Parents had me in there late thirties, so not the farm at a fairly young age, when was twenty nine. I met my wife after a concert of the county, fair shoes. Beautiful young thing of only twenty two of the time, but this I the age difference, I fell in love with her the moment I laid eyes on her. I don't when the quiet time surprised myself by walking right up to her and asking her to see a movie with me the following night within six months. We were engaged in six months later we were married. On the first anniversary of the day, we met nine months later, our baby. Can shocked us all. That's right I said she a little girl we named Ashley.
Ashley's, an old irish name, meaning a vision or dream. We pay that name because we never dreamed, we would have a girl shoes. To be a boy. We had no family tradition for female names because well They were using no females born into the family, the females married into our family. The Their names were rarely if ever repeated. When my father and mother moved Florida the next year, there again, only three of us and the enormous house. Everything's, wonderful for the first three years of Ashley's life, As any normal childhood, she passed all the milestones with flying was walking by nine months and speaking, comprehensible phrases by a year and a half life was perfect. I couldn't imagine it any other way. I stated before that our farm was a weak farm and, as I said, we did well by it having contracts with three major bread companies in the United States.
And some smaller local contracts, like most which forms we use pesticides we had to one year we did a beta test on a section of our crop to see how much of it would survive with using pesticides, ten percent, That is how much of the crops arrived the section of off you did you imagine what would it happened to us if we tried that with our entire crop. We would have lost our shirt and then some looking back now kind of which we would have About a year ago, a friend called me and asked to be a guinea pig for a new. Strain of pesticide he and his colleagues who developed in the act, cultural department at Mount Adus. They university he and his p. Each day in Ankara Cultural Sciences a couple years ago and had since dedicated his life to making more environmentally friendly pesticides. I normally didn't except his tests, but he was partitioned.
The excited about this one claiming that it would revolutionize the world of crop growing also one a few extra dollars to buy my wife and New Suv for Christmas. So agreed I got home from my meeting with him. I told them life about the plan, She didn't seem too fond of the idea, but I assured her, but my friend said it was perfectly safe. The chemicals have been tested, no serious side effects have been found in many tasks, subjects. Chief, an agreed after I insisted that we only tested on our household crops and not on our Marshall Crop Just in case some side effects did pop up. We We didn't need a lawsuit on our hands We tried it for a few days and everything seemed to be normal. We the green on all of our household bread We ourselves have been making our own bread for decades to be honoured I never had to buy a loaf of bread and my life while at home,
my wife even got into making her own east free bread after we were married, My wife had been allergic to east her entire life. Discovered early on the she passed that on onto Ashley, so stayed away from the regular bread and bread. Maybe then allergy was either their blessing or that curse I guess I will leave that up to you to decide. Like, I said the first few days of the pesticide testing as normal is ever, however, after about a week or so to feel a little strange so honest, Did you go to the doctor he said that was just a nasty case of the stomach Flam MIS, that I take some much needed rest. I ate more bread in one week, think think I had an entire three months. I throwing up left and right in the bread. Soaked up the vile and helped to relieve the dry he's bread.
Who's my one relief, so I kept eating after a few days of throwing up everything I ate and be totally worthless. I said You strange noises in the house during the night, a creek here, a crack there and so on. Now I understand that it is completely normal for a hundred plus your house to have creeks and cracks. But I swear to you, these noises were always, and I do mean always accompanied by voices. One of the voices I recognised as my Like grandfathers, the rescuers Unfamiliar irish brows. Sprang away but they had some profound secret. They were dying to reveal. Most of the time the voices came from the empty rooms with all the pictures, and sometimes It came from the hallways
My grandfather's voice, I was came, the parlor, where his portrait, but the mantle. I tried to ignore them because want anyone to think I was going insane and I also had myself convinced that I was just loopy from being dehydrated from all the vomiting After about a week, the voices grew so loud tat. I could no longer ignore them, so I go to see if I could find out exactly what it was that I was hearing. Soon as I opened the door of the whole way, there was a collective the voices stopped for me that drawing to the parlor to visit my grandfather's portrait doing so. It always give me comfort in the past his portrait look the same as always. Nothing has changed so I started. Talking to him like I always had and father and I had always been close and I often confided in his portrait after he died
felt I had no one else to talk to this night. I asked him We're going crazy. He answered back and he said now normally. I would be extremely concerned. That picture was talking to me but for some reason in that moment I thought it was perfectly acceptable from then on. I went back every night and had long conversations with my grandfather's portrait, all the pictures in the hallway. Gone quiet when I walked by in the middle of the night and sometimes even greatly as I pass by. And in time and talk to them as well The point where I was only sleeping about two hours a night I would stay in bed long enough to make sure my wife was asleep. Then I would leave our room and go speak. With my ancestors. I would then
make sure I was back to bed in time, so my wife would never know but I've been gone most of the night. One night I stopped talk to different portrait. My great great grandfather Keenan, no Sullivan the first. He mentioned that my family wasn't normal and didn't follow, a bloodline, Sullivan, Clam, properly. I asked him what he meant by that, and he said the Sullivans did not have girls We were long line of only sons, thing wasn't right now that line had been disrupted with a daughter. Insisted that was my wife's fault. Something in her. Adoption the flow of our family, She had to be done away with it that it can be done in anyway. I saw fit, but it did have to be done and answer.
I immediately became enraged at his comments and try to rip his portrait from the wall. Throat the fire. But it wouldn't budge I from clear the wall for a few minutes, but eventually give up and went back to bed without speaking another war time. After that encounter. I didn't leave my room again night for nearly two weeks, but the law I stayed away the voices grew. I could again no longer get a little bit asleep. I happen. I tried isolating myself in my music room for a while The room was uncomfortable, cold hard and then and even, in my say, space. The voices snuck inside. Eventually I regained my old schedule and started to go out and talk to the portraits again However, I avoided my great great grandfather's portrait every time I started. by talking only to my grandpa again, I told you
what keen in the first had said come did on how ridiculous it was to my horror grandfather agreed with him how he could say such a thing and the only answer he would give was that it has to be he told me to just sit and wait, and I would eventually see that my wife Wasn't the woman. I thought she was and then but make the right decision in time. I can't believe what he was saying. I don't want to My wife love me. I knew she did. And I knew she would never betray me. I knew this. Yet my suspicions against her group My eyes would narrow. Every time I saw her talking to another man. Even if it were just her brother or cousin every time. I saw her answer a text. I would make up skills to look at her phone socket. To see who she was texting,
Every time I saw her put on a new shade of lipstick, I was convinced was trying a new color just press, another man. It is why would she impress me make up. I Try to ignore. My lingering suspicions they kept eating away at me, and I could and building up inside me. Waiting to burst out in one enormous flood of violence. The last night my wife was alive. I was sitting in the parlor talking to my grandfather, My mounting suspicions, he replied with his usual response and told me that I knew what I had to do deep down. I knew that I agreed with him a moment later I heard my wife's force behind me I was talking to I was so startled that I jumped the chair in a flash pixel, off in my hand, and hit it by my back
I asked her how long she had been there to talk she had been there long enough to know that I needed some serious help. And then she wasn't sure she wanted be around our daughter until I was evaluated by psychiatrist to determine My mental state was dangerous or not I didn't say a word. While she was speaking, I couldn't believe she was trying to check me into a mental hospital. And to make matters worse. My grandfather's portrait behind me was telling me that he had tried to warn me here. She was turning on me at the first chance she got just like he had said she would. He was saying that the only reason she was trying to get me out of the house was so she could Take over the form an end the o Sullivan line. I We promised him that that would never happen overnight. Dead body. In fact, without ever happen, had come to this. It was either me or her. And I would be damned if it were me without saying a word, I will
talk to her and gave her a reassuring hog item. or is it? I would go see a psychiatrist if that's what she thought was best she smiled, and told me that she loved me just wanted. to get better for her and our little girl felt her begin to relax. Am I embrace. I plunged my grandfather's old hunting knife into her back. She grumbled the floor in an instant like a discarded town. I turned my grandfather. And began to laugh hysterically, I didn't know. I could last like that it was. Strange, sound from my own body, so I kept laughing and laughing until I heard my grandfather saying something about it not being over. Yet turn around. And saw that my wife was no longer lying on the floor, just a pool, blood remain where she had been lying. I realized that I hadn't killed. Her took off
after her enjoying the hunt. I slowly round the house, Ok, my head in every empty room. Recalling tuna, replied. I could hear with a muffled whispers from my ancestors portrait. After while the voices of my ancestors began to grow louder and louder nagging at me to hurry up and finish the job I started to get agitated. And wanted to find her sooner rather than later, get it over with I began to really follow the blood trail she was leaving behind until I found her in the kitchen trying to a counter the proper self up. I noticed that the and phone was hanging off the hook. I ignore that simply one up to her and the knife into her chest? straight into my eyes, as the life left. Her body
She simply said I love you KEN Last words were enough to snap me out of my psychotic focus there. She was Dead, wife lying in my arms, by the knife that my grandfather and I have used for hunting my dead wife killed by my hand, I couldn't take it I held her and rocked her back and forth screaming as loud as I could to drown out the fake forces of my painted ancestors. I screamed and screamed and screamed the voices were not so there was only one thing I could think of to stop them. I carried my wife outside and laid her far enough away from the house, so she would not be harmed. Ashley was time with my wife's sister, because I hadn't been feeling well so I knew I didn't have to worry about her. I walked up to the barn. Grabbed a few cans of tractor gas?
the force and walls of everyone in the house, leaving a line from each connecting to the front porch sure I got everyone well enough. I walked to the front Porch match. I heard sirens in the distance Just as the first flame started to climb the walls of the entryway with tears streaming down my face. I walked over to my wife's lifeless body and held her until the police found me with handcuffs took me away from her. As I was driven away in the police car. I could hear the screams of my ancestors inside the house is a flames began to silence and forever. I went through several medical and psychological tests that the request
my parents, are my lawyer in the days and weeks following the death of my wife, It was eventually determined that the trial pesticides that we were using in our home crop The chemical reaction when mixed with east that lead to site how to get the sun's symbolises Sophronia and some test subjects Wife and daughter did not these side effects, because their bread did not contain east These results should make me feel better right. I mean only nothing was my fault. It didn't It was on my phone, That's my wife, I killed her and I burnt down a house That had been in my family for generations I cannot even imagine what I I've done my daughter been in the night. She may suffer the same fate as my wife night. After that thought, the rest of my life
knowing what I did to her mother, who loved her with everything she had. I cannot my daughter ever again face my family. My wife's family again. The guilt is too much to bear against the wishes of my parents. My lawyer, who, in Sicily and a strong case based on insanity, I plead guilty to every count and refused to be bailed out to attend the funeral. Nobody needed me there, who don't. Cause more pain served rod. But I can't live with guilt any longer. I know my further actions cause even more pain to my family I don't deserve to live, by the time you find this. My sheets, will be my judge and jury, and my wife will finally the justice she deserves, I'm sorry
more sorry than you will have him now, Keenan Sullivan. This series was produced my ass, far ass. They were flowers, episode was written by Brenna civil check and read by me, Jake Weber. This story was modified slightly for audio retelling, but you can find the original in full on our website. Full body chills is an audio track production. So what do Thank Chuck. Do you approve
Transcript generated on 2020-10-12.