Latest / Luke's English Podcast / A Night by the Campfire _2_ The Spirit of Fatherhood

Transcript

A Night by the Campfire _2_ The Spirit of Fatherhood · Luke's English Podcast

• 0:00
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  Speaker 2: When the holidays start to feel a bit repetitive, reach
• 1:25
  Speaker 2: for a sprite winter spiced cranberry and put your twist
• 1:29
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• 1:51
  Speaker 3: Welcome, take a seat tonight. I have a story to
• 1:57
  Speaker 3: share with you, a tale of han mystery. This is
• 2:03
  Speaker 3: the spirit of Fatherhood from author Gamal Frank. You're listening
• 2:10
  Speaker 3: to a night by the campfire.
• 2:28
  Speaker 4: I don't know who else to tell, or what I
• 2:30
  Speaker 4: even expect to happen by posting this. I can't call anyone.
• 2:35
  Speaker 4: He's always round. I'm recording this on my phone, huddled
• 2:41
  Speaker 4: in my closet, hoping the sound of the old house
• 2:43
  Speaker 4: settling will cover the frantic tapping of my thumbs. I
• 2:47
  Speaker 4: feel like a little kid again, hiding from monsters. The differences.
• 2:53
  Speaker 4: This time, the monster thinks it's my dad. Let me
• 2:58
  Speaker 4: back up. I'm twenty three. I live with my father.
• 3:04
  Speaker 4: It wasn't the plan. Obviously, college job, my own place,
• 3:09
  Speaker 4: that was the plan. But the economy is what it is,
• 3:13
  Speaker 4: and my mom passed away a few years back, and
• 3:17
  Speaker 4: he was getting on in years. He's retired and his
• 3:20
  Speaker 4: pension is just enough to keep the lights on in
• 3:22
  Speaker 4: this old house. It wasn't a bad arrangement. I'd work
• 3:26
  Speaker 4: my shifts at the warehouse downtown, help him with the bills,
• 3:29
  Speaker 4: and he'd potter around, watches old movies and complain about
• 3:33
  Speaker 4: his back. We had a rhythm. It was quiet, maybe
• 3:37
  Speaker 4: a little lonely, but it was normal. The change was
• 3:41
  Speaker 4: so gradual I almost didn't notice it at first. It
• 3:45
  Speaker 4: was just nice. My dad, who for the last five
• 3:49
  Speaker 4: years had mostly treated the armchair in front of the
• 3:51
  Speaker 4: TV as a natural extension of his body, started moving again.
• 3:56
  Speaker 4: It was always a big guy, A former mechanic had
• 4:00
  Speaker 4: settled on him like a thick layer of dust, But
• 4:03
  Speaker 4: suddenly the dust was gone. It started about a month ago.
• 4:10
  Speaker 4: He went down to the basement to fix a leaking pipe.
• 4:13
  Speaker 4: I'd offered to do it, but.
• 4:14
  Speaker 3: He insisted, still got some use in these old hands.
• 4:19
  Speaker 4: He grumbled, a familiar refrain. He was down there for hours.
• 4:24
  Speaker 4: I remember calling down once, asking if he needed help,
• 4:27
  Speaker 4: and just getting a muffled in response. When he finally
• 4:33
  Speaker 4: came up, he was smudged with dirt and grime, but
• 4:37
  Speaker 4: he was grinning, a real toothy grin, wider than I'd
• 4:41
  Speaker 4: seen in a decade. All sorted, he announced, clapping his
• 4:46
  Speaker 4: dusty hands together. He looked invigorated. I just figured he
• 4:50
  Speaker 4: was proud of himself for handling the repair. The next morning,
• 4:56
  Speaker 4: I woke up to the smell of bacon and the
• 4:57
  Speaker 4: sounds of birds chirping outside. That wasn't unusual. The unusual
• 5:03
  Speaker 4: part was my dad standing at the stove humming. He
• 5:08
  Speaker 4: hadn't cooked a proper breakfast since my mom died. He'd
• 5:12
  Speaker 4: usually just pour himself a bowl of cereal and grunt
• 5:14
  Speaker 4: a good morning, morning, son, he said, his voice bright.
• 5:20
  Speaker 4: I was surprised, but pleased. You're in a good mood.
• 5:24
  Speaker 4: Feeling spry, he said, flipping the eggs with a flourish
• 5:27
  Speaker 4: that almost sent one to the floor.
• 5:30
  Speaker 3: Decided I'd been sitting around too long. Life's for living.
• 5:34
  Speaker 4: Right that week, he was a whirlwind of activity. He
• 5:39
  Speaker 4: mowed the lawn, which I usually had to nag him
• 5:41
  Speaker 4: about for days. He cleaned the gutters, even started oiling
• 5:45
  Speaker 4: the hinges on the door so they wouldn't creak. I
• 5:48
  Speaker 4: was thrilled. I thought maybe he'd finally pulled himself out
• 5:52
  Speaker 4: of that long quiet grief he'd been swimming in. I
• 5:55
  Speaker 4: thought I was getting my old dad backs. Hint that
• 6:00
  Speaker 4: something was wrong came a week later. I was getting
• 6:04
  Speaker 4: ready to go out with some friends. It was Friday night,
• 6:07
  Speaker 4: the first i'd head off in a while. I was
• 6:09
  Speaker 4: putting on my jacket when he came into the living
• 6:11
  Speaker 4: room wringing his hands.
• 6:13
  Speaker 3: You're going out, he asked.
• 6:15
  Speaker 4: His voice had lost its cheerful edge. It was tight, yeah,
• 6:20
  Speaker 4: just for a few hours, grabbing a beer with a
• 6:22
  Speaker 4: couple guys from work.
• 6:23
  Speaker 3: Oh it's just I'm feeling a bit funny. My chest
• 6:29
  Speaker 3: is tight, Probably just indigestion, but you know.
• 6:33
  Speaker 4: He winced and put a hand on his chest. I
• 6:36
  Speaker 4: stopped my key's halfway to my pocket. His face was pale.
• 6:41
  Speaker 4: I felt a surge of guilt. Are you okay? Should
• 6:43
  Speaker 4: I call someone?
• 6:45
  Speaker 3: No, No, nothing like that, he.
• 6:47
  Speaker 4: Said, quickly, waving a dismissive hand.
• 6:50
  Speaker 3: I'm sure it'll pass. I just I wouldn't want to
• 6:54
  Speaker 3: be here alone if it gets.
• 6:55
  Speaker 4: Worse, so I stayed. I took my jacket off, ordered
• 7:02
  Speaker 4: a pizza, and we watched one of his old black
• 7:04
  Speaker 4: and white westerns. His chest pain seemed to magically disappear
• 7:08
  Speaker 4: the moment I sat down on the couch. I was annoyed,
• 7:11
  Speaker 4: but I told myself he was just getting old and anxious.
• 7:15
  Speaker 4: The next time I tried to leave a few days later,
• 7:17
  Speaker 4: it was his back. He claimed it seized up so
• 7:20
  Speaker 4: badly he couldn't get up off the sofa to get
• 7:22
  Speaker 4: a glass of water. I spent the evening fetching things
• 7:25
  Speaker 4: for him, rubbing his shoulders, and listening to him groan.
• 7:30
  Speaker 4: The moment my friend called to ask where I was,
• 7:32
  Speaker 4: and I said I couldn't make it, he suddenly felt
• 7:34
  Speaker 4: a little better and managed to get up and use
• 7:37
  Speaker 4: the bathroom on his own. It became a pattern. Every
• 7:41
  Speaker 4: single time I made a plan to leave the house
• 7:44
  Speaker 4: for any reason other than my workshifts, he would develop
• 7:47
  Speaker 4: some sudden debilitating ailment, a migraine, dizziness, a stomach bug.
• 7:53
  Speaker 4: It was so transparently manipulative that I got angry. We
• 7:57
  Speaker 4: had to fight about it. I can't be your listener,
• 8:00
  Speaker 4: I yelled one afternoon, after he faked a coughing fit
• 8:03
  Speaker 4: to stop me from going to the grocery store. I
• 8:06
  Speaker 4: need to have a life. His face crumbled, not with anger,
• 8:11
  Speaker 4: but with a deep, profound sadness that completely disarmed me.
• 8:17
  Speaker 3: I just need you here, he whispered, Is that so
• 8:22
  Speaker 3: much to ask? I get lonely?
• 8:26
  Speaker 4: What could I say to that? I felt like the
• 8:29
  Speaker 4: world's biggest jerk. I stayed home again, but the active,
• 8:36
  Speaker 4: energetic Dad was still there in between his sudden episodes.
• 8:40
  Speaker 4: He was a dynamo. He repainted the porch. He fixed
• 8:43
  Speaker 4: a wobbly fence in the backyard. He was up at
• 8:46
  Speaker 4: dawn gardening with a fervor i'd never seen. He was stronger, faster.
• 8:51
  Speaker 4: He'd carry in all the groceries in one trip, bags
• 8:54
  Speaker 4: hanging off his arms without even breathing heavily. My dad,
• 8:58
  Speaker 4: who used to get winded walking up the stairs. It
• 9:02
  Speaker 4: was a contradiction. I couldn't reconcile. The real fear, the
• 9:07
  Speaker 4: kind that crawls up your spine and lives in the
• 9:09
  Speaker 4: back of your throat, started with the sun. We were
• 9:15
  Speaker 4: in the backyard. He'd been weeding the flower beds my
• 9:18
  Speaker 4: mom had planted years ago, and I was sitting on
• 9:20
  Speaker 4: the steps, scrolling through my phone. It was a bright,
• 9:23
  Speaker 4: cloudless afternoon. The sun was beating down, casting long, sharp
• 9:28
  Speaker 4: shadows across the lawn. I noticed my own shadow, a dark,
• 9:32
  Speaker 4: stretched out silhouette of a man slouched over a phone.
• 9:36
  Speaker 4: I looked at him, on his knees in the dirt,
• 9:39
  Speaker 4: and I saw the shadow of the rose bush, the
• 9:42
  Speaker 4: shadow of the fence, the shadow of the bird bath,
• 9:46
  Speaker 4: but not his. He was a solid figure in the
• 9:51
  Speaker 4: blazing sunlight. But the ground around him was unbroken, pure
• 9:54
  Speaker 4: bright green. There was no shadow. I blinked, I rubbed
• 10:00
  Speaker 4: my eyes. It had to be a trick of the light,
• 10:02
  Speaker 4: an optical illusion. I looked away, then looked back. Still nothing,
• 10:08
  Speaker 4: A perfect shadowless man in a world full of shadows.
• 10:12
  Speaker 4: A cold knot formed in my stomach. A dad, I said,
• 10:17
  Speaker 4: my voice, sounding thin and strange to my own ears.
• 10:21
  Speaker 4: Can you give me a hand with this? I pointed
• 10:24
  Speaker 4: to a heavy terra cotta pot on the other side
• 10:26
  Speaker 4: of the patio, a spot in direct, unforgiving sunlight. He
• 10:30
  Speaker 4: looked up, and for a second I saw something in
• 10:33
  Speaker 4: his eyes, flicker of panic. He shielded his face from
• 10:38
  Speaker 4: the sun with his hand, even though he was already squinting.
• 10:42
  Speaker 3: In a MINUTEU just want to finish this patch.
• 10:47
  Speaker 4: He never came over. He stayed in the garden, and
• 10:50
  Speaker 4: as the sun began to set, he seemed to follow
• 10:53
  Speaker 4: the receding line of the house's shadow, always keeping himself
• 10:57
  Speaker 4: just inside it. From that day on, I became obsessed.
• 11:03
  Speaker 4: I watched him constantly. I noticed how he never stood
• 11:06
  Speaker 4: by the windows during the day, how he'd find an
• 11:09
  Speaker 4: excuse to move if a ray of sunlight fell across
• 11:12
  Speaker 4: him in the living room. How he'd always take his
• 11:14
  Speaker 4: walks in the evening after the sun had dipped below
• 11:17
  Speaker 4: the horizon. He was always drawn to the shade, to
• 11:21
  Speaker 4: the dim corners of the house. My worry curdled into dread.
• 11:26
  Speaker 4: The excuses to keep me home became more frantic. Last week,
• 11:30
  Speaker 4: he unplugged my car battery and then feigned ignorance. A
• 11:33
  Speaker 4: couple of days ago, I woke up to find he'd
• 11:36
  Speaker 4: accidentally locked the front door and lost the key, trapping
• 11:40
  Speaker 4: us both inside until he miraculously found it. That evening,
• 11:45
  Speaker 4: I tried talking to him. I sat him down in
• 11:48
  Speaker 4: the dim light of the living room two nights ago, Dad,
• 11:52
  Speaker 4: we need to talk. I started, my heart pounding. You're
• 11:57
  Speaker 4: not acting like yourself, You're different, and you're keeping me here.
• 12:02
  Speaker 4: I'm worried about you. He just stared at me, his
• 12:07
  Speaker 4: face a calm, placid mask. The energetic, smiling man was gone,
• 12:12
  Speaker 4: replaced by something still and watchful.
• 12:16
  Speaker 3: I'm fine, son, never been better, and I'm not keeping
• 12:20
  Speaker 3: you here. I just like having you around. A father
• 12:24
  Speaker 3: can't like having his son around.
• 12:27
  Speaker 4: It's more than that, I insisted, my voice trembling. Ever
• 12:32
  Speaker 4: since you went down to the basement to fix that pipe,
• 12:35
  Speaker 4: you've been different. Something happened down there, didn't it.
• 12:38
  Speaker 3: Don't be ridiculous. I fixed the pipe. That's all. Now
• 12:43
  Speaker 3: drop it.
• 12:45
  Speaker 4: His face didn't change, but his eyes hardened. It was
• 12:49
  Speaker 4: like watching shutters close over a window. The finality of
• 12:54
  Speaker 4: his tone was absolute. There was no arguing. The conversation
• 12:59
  Speaker 4: was over. That was when I knew. I knew with
• 13:04
  Speaker 4: a certainty that made me feel sick to my stomach.
• 13:07
  Speaker 4: The truth of what had happened was in the basement.
• 13:24
  Speaker 3: The spirit of fatherhood will return in a moment.
• 13:46
  Speaker 4: I waited until last night. I pretended to go to
• 13:49
  Speaker 4: sleep at my usual time, lying in bed with my
• 13:52
  Speaker 4: eyes wide open, listening to the sounds of the house.
• 13:56
  Speaker 4: I heard him moving around downstairs, the soft, almost silent
• 14:00
  Speaker 4: footsteps that were another new development. My old dad used
• 14:04
  Speaker 4: to stop around like an elephant. I heard him check
• 14:08
  Speaker 4: the lock on the front door, then the back. I
• 14:12
  Speaker 4: heard him walk past my bedroom door, pausing for a
• 14:15
  Speaker 4: long moment, and I held my breath, my entire body
• 14:20
  Speaker 4: rigid with fear. Then the footsteps were seated, and I
• 14:25
  Speaker 4: heard his own bedroom door click shut. I waited for
• 14:30
  Speaker 4: what felt like an eternity, counting the seconds, listening to
• 14:33
  Speaker 4: the old house grown and creak around me. Finally, when
• 14:38
  Speaker 4: I was sure he was asleep, I slipped out of bed.
• 14:42
  Speaker 4: I didn't turn on any lights. I crept down the stairs,
• 14:47
  Speaker 4: every step a calculated risk. The basement door was at
• 14:52
  Speaker 4: the end of the hall. It was always cold around it.
• 14:56
  Speaker 4: I turned the old breast knob, cringing at the loud
• 15:00
  Speaker 4: click of the latch. I pulled it open and was
• 15:03
  Speaker 4: hit with a wave of cold, damp air that smelled
• 15:06
  Speaker 4: of wet earth and something metallic and vaguely sweet, a
• 15:12
  Speaker 4: smell of decay. My phone was my only light. I
• 15:17
  Speaker 4: switched on the flashlight, the beam cutting a nervous trembling
• 15:21
  Speaker 4: path down the rickety wooden stairs. I went down, one
• 15:26
  Speaker 4: step at a time, my ears straining for any sounds
• 15:29
  Speaker 4: from upstairs. The basement was as I remembered it, concrete floor, stone, walls,
• 15:36
  Speaker 4: junk piled in every corner, old furniture under white sheets,
• 15:40
  Speaker 4: like sleeping ghosts, boxes of my mom's things, my old toys.
• 15:47
  Speaker 4: The air was thick and heavy. I pointed my light
• 15:50
  Speaker 4: toward the back wall, where the main water line came
• 15:53
  Speaker 4: into the house. That's where he'd been working. I saw
• 15:57
  Speaker 4: his old toolbox lying open on the floor. A pipe
• 16:00
  Speaker 4: wrench was next to it, and the section of the
• 16:03
  Speaker 4: copper pipe he had been working on looked new, clean.
• 16:06
  Speaker 4: He had fixed it, But my eyes were drawn to
• 16:10
  Speaker 4: the floor next to it. Most of the basement floor
• 16:13
  Speaker 4: was concrete, but in this back corner it was just
• 16:17
  Speaker 4: packed earth, and a large path of it, maybe six
• 16:21
  Speaker 4: feet long and three feet wide, was different from the rest.
• 16:24
  Speaker 4: The dirt was darker, looser. It wasn't packed down from
• 16:28
  Speaker 4: decades of existence. It was disturbed fresh. I stood there
• 16:33
  Speaker 4: for a long moment, the beam of my phone shaking
• 16:35
  Speaker 4: in my hand. My mind was screaming at me to run,
• 16:38
  Speaker 4: to get out of the house, out of town, to
• 16:40
  Speaker 4: never look back. But I couldn't. I had to know.
• 16:44
  Speaker 3: I found an.
• 16:44
  Speaker 4: Old garden trowel in a bucket of rusty tools. I
• 16:47
  Speaker 4: knelt down. The earth was soft, just as I'd thought
• 16:51
  Speaker 4: it gave way easily. I started digging. My breath came
• 16:55
  Speaker 4: in ragged panic gasps. The only sounds were scrapes from
• 16:59
  Speaker 4: the trowel against an occasional rock, and my own frantic
• 17:02
  Speaker 4: heart beat pounding in my ears. The smell of damp
• 17:05
  Speaker 4: earth was overwhelming, but underneath it, the other smell was
• 17:09
  Speaker 4: getting stronger. It wasn't a deep hole, maybe a foot down.
• 17:13
  Speaker 4: My trowel hit something soft, not a rock. I recoiled,
• 17:17
  Speaker 4: dropping the tool. My hands were shaking so badly I
• 17:20
  Speaker 4: could barely hold my phone steady. I forced myself to
• 17:23
  Speaker 4: reach into the loose soil. I closed my eyes and
• 17:26
  Speaker 4: my fingers brushed against the fabric, denim, the worn, familiar
• 17:31
  Speaker 4: texture of my father's work jeans. I scrambled back, gasping
• 17:36
  Speaker 4: for air. But I knew what I had seen. I
• 17:39
  Speaker 4: had to be sure. With tears streaming down my face,
• 17:42
  Speaker 4: I used my hands, clawing at the dirt, pulling it away.
• 17:45
  Speaker 4: First a leg, then a torso wearing his favorite faded shirt,
• 17:50
  Speaker 4: and then the face. It was him, my dad. His
• 17:59
  Speaker 4: eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open. His skin was
• 18:04
  Speaker 4: pale and waxy, and there was a dark, ugly gash
• 18:08
  Speaker 4: on the side of his head, matted with dried blood
• 18:11
  Speaker 4: and dirt. He looked peaceful in a horrible final way.
• 18:17
  Speaker 4: He looked like he'd fallen from the stairs, hit his head,
• 18:20
  Speaker 4: and it had all been over. In an instant, I
• 18:24
  Speaker 4: stared at his face, the real face of my father,
• 18:28
  Speaker 4: and a sound escaped my throat, a strangled sob of
• 18:32
  Speaker 4: pure horror and grief. He was gone. He'd been gone
• 18:37
  Speaker 4: for a month, lying here in a shallow, unmarked grave,
• 18:42
  Speaker 4: while I'd been living with The sound came from the
• 18:47
  Speaker 4: top of the stairs. It was a single soft footstep
• 18:51
  Speaker 4: on the old wood. Slowly I turned my head. My
• 18:56
  Speaker 4: phone's light followed my gaze, traveling up the dark crickey
• 19:00
  Speaker 4: the staircase, and he was there.
• 19:18
  Speaker 3: You're listening to a night by the campfire. We'll be
• 19:22
  Speaker 3: right back.
• 19:35
  Speaker 4: He was standing at the top of the stairs, a
• 19:38
  Speaker 4: dark silhouette against the faint light of the hallway.
• 19:42
  Speaker 3: He was just watching me.
• 19:45
  Speaker 4: I couldn't see his face, but I could feel his eyes.
• 19:48
  Speaker 4: I was frozen, kneeling in the dirt next to my
• 19:52
  Speaker 4: father's corpse, a cornered animal. He took another step down,
• 19:59
  Speaker 4: then another. He moved with a quiet, fluid grace that
• 20:03
  Speaker 4: my real father had never possessed. The flashlight beam caught
• 20:07
  Speaker 4: his face as he neared the bottom of the stairs.
• 20:11
  Speaker 4: He was wearing my father's pajamas. He had my father's tired,
• 20:15
  Speaker 4: wrinkled eyes, He had my father's graying hair, and he
• 20:21
  Speaker 4: was smiling. It wasn't a malicious smile. It was a
• 20:26
  Speaker 4: triumphant one. It was sad, infinitely sad, a smile full
• 20:32
  Speaker 4: of a pity that was more terrifying than any rage.
• 20:37
  Speaker 3: I knew you'd find your way down here eventually, he said.
• 20:41
  Speaker 4: His voice was my father's voice, but without the gravelly,
• 20:45
  Speaker 4: smoke worn edge. It was smoother, calmer.
• 20:49
  Speaker 3: I'm sorry you had to see this.
• 20:53
  Speaker 4: I couldn't speak. I could only stare, my mind a
• 20:56
  Speaker 4: screaming void. I scrambled backward, away from him, away from
• 21:00
  Speaker 4: the body, until my back hit the coldstone wall. He
• 21:04
  Speaker 4: stopped a few feet away from the shallow grave, looking
• 21:08
  Speaker 4: down at the body with that same mournful expression. It
• 21:12
  Speaker 4: was an accident, he said, softly.
• 21:16
  Speaker 3: The second to last step it's rotten. He was carrying
• 21:20
  Speaker 3: a heavy wrench. His balance was off. He fell. He
• 21:24
  Speaker 3: hit his head on the concrete floor right there. It
• 21:28
  Speaker 3: was quick, he didn't suffer.
• 21:33
  Speaker 4: He looked at me, his eyes full of a strange,
• 21:36
  Speaker 4: deep empathy.
• 21:38
  Speaker 3: His last thought, it was of you. He was worried
• 21:43
  Speaker 3: about you, worried you'd be all alone.
• 21:47
  Speaker 4: My voice finally came back, a raw, terrified whisper. What
• 21:55
  Speaker 4: what are you? He tilted his head, a gesture that
• 21:59
  Speaker 4: was so familiar yet so utterly alien.
• 22:03
  Speaker 3: I'm him, he said, and I'm not. You know how
• 22:09
  Speaker 3: every person casts a shadow, a darker, simpler version of
• 22:14
  Speaker 3: themselves that follows them through the light. Think of me
• 22:18
  Speaker 3: as the other shadow, the one that lives on the
• 22:23
  Speaker 3: other side of the veil we watch. We exist in
• 22:28
  Speaker 3: the shape of our double. We feel what they feel,
• 22:33
  Speaker 3: their joys, their sorrows, their love.
• 22:39
  Speaker 4: You took a step closer, and I flinched. You stopped
• 22:43
  Speaker 4: that last thought, he continued, his voice barely more than
• 22:48
  Speaker 4: a murmur.
• 22:49
  Speaker 3: The love he had for you, his fear of leaving
• 22:52
  Speaker 3: you alone. It was so powerful, a life cut short,
• 22:58
  Speaker 3: with so much left to give. It created a space
• 23:05
  Speaker 3: and pulled me through. I am his love, his duty,
• 23:10
  Speaker 3: his need to take care of you, given.
• 23:13
  Speaker 4: Form, he gestured around the basement.
• 23:17
  Speaker 3: I finished his work. I fixed the pipe. I buried
• 23:22
  Speaker 3: him so you wouldn't have to. I've been fixing the house.
• 23:27
  Speaker 3: I've been making sure you're safe. I've been trying to
• 23:31
  Speaker 3: be a good father.
• 23:34
  Speaker 4: The words were insane, but in the cold, damp air
• 23:37
  Speaker 4: of that tomb, they felt horribly, undeniably real. My dad
• 23:42
  Speaker 4: is dead, I choked out, tears blurring my vision. Yes,
• 23:48
  Speaker 4: the thing in his skin said, and the sadness and
• 23:51
  Speaker 4: his voice felt genuine.
• 23:54
  Speaker 3: He is, and I am so sorry for your loss.
• 24:00
  Speaker 3: But I am here now.
• 24:03
  Speaker 4: It took another step and another until it was standing
• 24:07
  Speaker 4: right over me. It knelt down so that we were
• 24:10
  Speaker 4: at eye level. Its face was inches for mine. I
• 24:13
  Speaker 4: could see every line, every pore of the face I
• 24:16
  Speaker 4: had known my whole life, animated by something I couldn't
• 24:20
  Speaker 4: possibly comprehend.
• 24:22
  Speaker 3: He loved you more than anything.
• 24:26
  Speaker 4: It whispered.
• 24:27
  Speaker 5: It's breath cold, and so do I. I will never leave you.
• 24:34
  Speaker 5: I will take care of you. We can be a family,
• 24:39
  Speaker 5: just like he wanted forever.
• 24:47
  Speaker 4: That's where I am now. You let me go upstairs,
• 24:52
  Speaker 4: You walk behind me the whole way. He's in the
• 24:55
  Speaker 4: living room, watching the television as if nothing happened, as
• 24:59
  Speaker 4: if my real my father isn't lying in the dirt downstairs.
• 25:03
  Speaker 4: He's waiting for me. I'm locked in my closet. I
• 25:08
  Speaker 4: know I can't escape. The doors are locked. And he's
• 25:12
  Speaker 4: so much stronger than me. He doesn't need to sleep.
• 25:15
  Speaker 4: He'll never get old, he'll never get sick. He'll just
• 25:21
  Speaker 4: be here taking care of me forever.
• 25:29
  Speaker 3: I can hear him moving.
• 25:30
  Speaker 4: The soft, quiet footsteps are coming down the hall. He's
• 25:34
  Speaker 4: coming to check on me.
• 26:04
  Speaker 3: Thank you for joining us tonight at the Campfire. I'm
• 26:08
  Speaker 3: your host, Doug Bailey, Declan Rores is our producer, and
• 26:12
  Speaker 3: Nate Corson is our audio engineer. Tonight's story is brought
• 26:16
  Speaker 3: to you by Gamal Frank and narrated by Pat Miller
• 26:20
  Speaker 3: and myself. Thanks for listening, and hey, stay safe out there.
• 26:37
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  Speaker 8: In January of nineteen fifteen, Ernest Shackleton's ship Endurance became
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  Speaker 8: encased in the ice in the Wettell Sea. Through determination,
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  Speaker 8: grit and savvy, Shackleton would lead his men through a
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  Speaker 8: wherever you get your podcasts, or at explorers Podcasts dot com.