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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This is Jake Webber,
and I have a story. I want to tell you.
A story about a family farm
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.