Original subtitles

- Welcome friends.

Grab your comfiest blanket and get cozy

because I have a wonderful story for you.

It's about a little old lady with a big old mouth.

Join me on this read aloud.

It goes like this.

♪ There was an old lady who swallowed a fly ♪

♪ I don't know why she swallowed the fly ♪

♪ Perhaps she'll die ♪

♪ There was an old lady who swallowed a spider. ♪

- Ozzie, why you sitting so close to the TV?

♪ That wiggled and jiggled and tickled inside her ♪

♪ She swallowed the spider ♪ - What are you working on?

♪ The fly ♪

♪ But I don't know why she swallowed that fly ♪

♪ Perhaps she'll die ♪

- What do you think of my mask?

♪ There was an old lady ♪

♪ Who swallowed a bird ♪ - Oh, it's kinda creepy,

but cool. ♪ How absurd ♪

♪ Out came the sun ♪

♪ And dried up all the rain ♪

♪ And the itsy bitsy spider went up- ♪

- Can I hold the camera?

- No, every time I let you hold the camera,

you end up dropping it.

These things are too expensive.

- I won't drop it this time.

Please, dad. - No, I'm sorry.

It's time for bed, anyway.

Go brush your teeth.

- Ah, this is dumb.

Where's mommy?

- She'll be home later.

She's taking care of some things.

- I want Grandma.

- Grandma's not here either, baby,

but I'm here with you, okay?

- Call

- Hello? - Hey.

- Where are you? - Still at the station.

I'll probably be here a while longer.

- They find your mom? - Not yet.

They're still searching.

- Okay.

- I hate this.

- Yeah, me too.

- I'll keep you updated.

Tell Ozzie I say good night and I love her.

- I'll let her know. I love you, Vic.

- I love you too. Darren.

- 10, 9, 8,

7, 6, 5, 4,

3, 2, 1.

Ready or not, here I come.

- Come on. Help us back up.

- Ah, come on.

- Every day, thousands of people call, write,

or visit the library.

- True.

a bad habit of.

- I can hear you, grandma.

I know you're in there.

Can you come out?

Found you, Grandma.

Hey, that's my mask. Give it back.

Can you please take off the mask, Grandma?

I don't like it when you wear it.

Okay, it's your turn to find me.

- Are covered with worms.

♪ She swallowed the dog to catch the cat ♪

♪ She swallowed the cat to catch the bird ♪

♪ She swallowed the bird to catch the spider ♪

♪ That wiggled and jiggled ♪

♪ There was an old lady ♪

♪ Who swallowed a horse ♪

♪ She's dead, of course ♪

- We grow accustomed to the dark.

When the light is put away,

as when the neighbor holds the lamp

to witness her goodbye.

A moment.

We uncertain step, for newness of the night.

Then, fit our vision to the dark

and meet the road, erect,

and so of larger darknesses.

Those evenings of the brain.

When not a moon disclose a sign,

or star, come out, within,

the bravest, grope a little,

and sometimes hit a tree directly in the forehead.

But as they learn to see either the darkness alters

or something in the sight adjusts itself to midnight.

And life steps almost straight.

- The courage to push through hardship. I like it.

- Yeah, I feel like Emily Dickinson speaks

to me on such a deep level.

- The power that art can have.

Yeah. Thank you for sharing, Ozzie.

- Yeah, of course.

- So how about journaling? Have you gave it a go?

- Yeah. I actually started these kind of like video diaries.

I feel that seeing

and hearing myself express my own thoughts is helpful.

I also think it's important to put my story somewhere.

I have a record of the truth of who I am.

- Absolutely.

I'm just so glad that you are taking these steps.

I admire your bravery.

It's a long road, but you are on the right path.

- There's still a lot to learn about myself

and my own history.

I need to fill in those blanks.

Books speak to us.

They have the power

to take us on journeys outside of our own.

They can teach us how to live, how to take care of ourselves

and the world around us.

Inside every book is a soul,

a voice wanting to be heard.

My grandma, she said she used to hear some of them,

loud and clear.

She meant that literally.

She claimed that they told her to do things, bad things.

And she did them.

- Can we talk about what happened tonight?

- Yes?

- A clergyman we spoke to,

he told us that he saw you hanging

behind the church before the fire.

Did you happen to see what or who started it?

- No.

- There wasn't a slow progression

of mental illness.

It was an overnight thing

and I don't know what changed.

But that wasn't the grandma I remembered.

Dorothy Bell was a gentle soul.

The heart of our family, the town's favorite librarian.

Shes where I got my love for reading.

and most of the memories I have of her are faint.

I don't know which ones are real or which ones I dreamt.

Mine has this defense mechanism.

It could suppress traumatic memories.

They aren't removed,

they're just locked in a compartment

and the keys thrown out into the world

to one day be discovered again.

Growing up, I used to believe

that it was the car accident that left me scarred.

That's what my parents had told me.

I first came across the story on a paranormal blog titled

"Urban Legends of Spellbound," my hometown,

where it all happened.

Dorothy Bell, a witch librarian of Edwards Library,

said to still roam the halls.

They say if you shout her name

and listen closely, sometimes you can hear it whisper back.

There's this picture being shared online.

They claimed it captured her ghost.

It's super blurry, but I don't know.

I kind of see it.

From there,

I was able to find press articles from that year

detailing the events.

It flipped my whole world upside down.

There was nothing stressful going on in her life

that would make her lose it.

She wasn't loony and my grandma wasn't a witch.

I'm back in Spellbound, I'm at the old house

and I'm gonna be visiting the library that she died in.

Try to see what I can learn. I'll document everything I can.

- Good evening. - Hi.

I'm a student at Amwell College

and I'm working on a video project.

- Okay.

- I'm a relative of Dorothy Bell.

She was a former librarian here

in the eighties and nineties.

I was wondering if you're familiar with her,

if you had anything to share that I can include?

- No, I'm sorry.

We don't know anybody here with that name

and we don't allow filming inside the library.

- Is there anyone else that works here

that may have some information?

- No. I don't think so.

I'm sorry we can't help you.

- No worries. I'll just take a look around.

- We're closing.

- Okay.

- Are you Victoria's kid? - I am.

- I thought so. I'm George Hall.

She was an old friend of mine.

We used to work together at Kruger's Electronics

quite some time ago.

- Now you're working for the library.

- Maintenance.

How's your mom doing?

- Honestly, I don't know.

We haven't talked to in a while,

but hey, maybe you can help me.

- Hi. Come on in.

What do you plan on doing with this video?

- Nothing really. It's a personal project.

Just wanna make sure I document everything.

- Well, I'm fine with you recording just as long

as it doesn't end up on YouTube.

I'm really not trying to lose my job.

- Yeah, it won't

- Feel free to film whatever.

Just don't move or break anything.

Many of these tables

have been preserved long before you and I were born.

- Are you familiar with

what happened with my grandma?

- We all know about it.

They don't like to talk about it here.

- Yeah, I got that vibe.

- You don't wanna scare people away.

- Mm-hmm. I get that.

- Were you the one she- - Yeah.

- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked.

That's the banister right there.

You know, I remember her.

I lived in this town my whole life.

She was really a nice lady.

I mean, it's not every day you hear

of an elderly woman doing those

type of things, you know what I mean?

- Yeah.

What about the ghost stories?

- I've heard 'em, honestly, I don't believe in that.

At least I haven't experienced anything to convince me to.

I mean, there's been times where I thought I heard voices

and footsteps, but I'm sure it's all in my head.

Long shifts with little sleep will do that.

Plus we got a lot of homeless people hanging

around the building and there'd been times when they snuck

in when one of our staff forgot to lock the door.

So I don't know.

I will be working in the basement most of the night.

Let me know if you need anything.

- Perfect. Thank you. - Yeah, no problem.

- Do you remember this?

- And the goblin retreated back

into the cave dwelling

never to return to the Hogsfeet village again.

The end.

Well, what'd you think?

- That one was scary.

I think it's gonna give me nightmares.

- You wanna know a trick?

- What?

- Well, whenever you read a spooky story,

you read a happy one right after.

That way, you'll have sweet dreams instead

of bad ones.

- Okay.

- How about this one?

"The Little Blue Balloon." - Yeah!

- There once lived a balloon that was a little blue.

The little blue balloon lived among a family

of joyful colorful balloons.

Mama Purple Balloon watered her balloon garden,

while Daddy Green Balloon

read The Daily Balloon newspaper.

Brother Yellow Balloon

painted a picture of a pretty balloon,

and Grandma Pink Balloon

baked a tasty balloon pie,

but the little blue balloon felt alone and left out.

Unsure of what balloon activity to do.

- You wanna know a trick?

- Hello?

Fuck.

- Gotta clock out.

You good? - Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Can you please just give me 15 more minutes?

That's all I need,

and I'll be outta your hair- - I'm sorry,

I can't go into overtime.

You gotta pack it up.

Maybe come back some other night.

- So in what ways do you feel like

your life has changed since learning

of this new part of your past?

- I feel like I understand myself a little bit better.

Like my personality.

On the other hand, I have a whole lot new questions

like none that this really makes sense to me.

- I understand, it's a lot to process.

Can you think of any of those questions you have?

- Maybe I did something wrong.

- Something that you did

to make your grandma act out?

Can you think of anything a five-year-old could do

that would warrant an adult to act violently towards them?

- No.

- Neither can I.

What about new memories?

Has anything resurfaced?

If you're uncomfortable talking about them, it's okay,

We can move on. - No, it's fine.

Some, I guess.

Well I've been having this

reoccurring nightmare of her and I in this house

and we're sitting at the kitchen table

and she's making me a PB and J sandwich

like she always would.

But in the dream, instead of a butter knife,

she's using this large

sharp chest blade to spread the ingredients

and she's making a mess.

She just keeps adding more and more peanut butter

and jelly on the bread

and it's overflowing

and smearing over her hands

and her clothes and on the table.

And then suddenly I'm covered in it

and it's all over my clothes

and my face,

and she's laughing hysterically.

It's not funny though.

I just have this like strange feeling that

something is terribly wrong

and I'm not laughing with her.

You know, I just don't understand how she can do that to me.

This place had remained unoccupied

since our family moved out.

I think it's because of what happened here.

Saw the ad on Craigslist for dirt cheap

and had to jump on it.

I don't think the landlord knows who I am.

I'd rather her not.

I occasionally find these little remnants

I hid in the floors and walls throughout the house.

For each one,

a new memory surfaces.

Night one was interesting.

I will take a screen capture

so you can see what I'm looking at.

Look at this.

Hmm.

- Fuck.

- See, that can't be a video artifact

'cause it appears on both cameras.

I'm not sure what it is.

I'll be returning later tonight

and this time I'll try a little harder to communicate.

- How do you explain something like that

to a child?

You don't. You just don't.

Please pick up.

Your father and I are getting worried.

- Hey Ozzie, it's Val.

You are scheduled for 2:00 PM today.

We're short staffed and need some help.

Call us back when you can.

- Ozzie, it's your mother again.

Just wanted to call and wish you a happy birthday.

Let me know you're okay.

Call me back.

- Hey Ozzie, it's Val again.

This is your third no call, no show.

Technically, I should be letting you go from this position.

I understand that life can sometimes get in the way.

Call me back.

- You don't think it fucked me up, too?

I'm a mess. All I wanted was the best for you.

I wanted you to be able to grow up and live a normal life.

You know what, fuck it. I'm done trying.

Goodbye Ozzie.

- Hi Ozzie. It's your father.

I know you're dealing with a lot

and I understand you're aren't ready to speak to us.

Just wanna say I love you

and when you feel comfortable to talk, I'll be waiting.

Bye now.

- Is he talking to you now?

What is he saying?

- I...

- What was that?

- He wants me to kill you.

- I am calling out to the spirit

of my grandmother Dorothy Bell.

Are you here right now?

Why did you hurt me? I just need to know.

Can you please just say something? Anything.

This is a sign. It has to be.

"Welcome Home" by Albert Thurman.

You want me to read to you, Grandma?

When I was about 15 years old, we had retired

to our house near Bell Reef.

When we witnessed the most violent

and terrible thunderstorm.

It advanced from behind the mountains of Jura,

and the thunder burst at once

with frightful loudness from various

quarters of the heavens.

I remained while the storm lasted.

Watching its progress,

with curiosity and delight.

As I stood at the door, all of the sudden,

I beheld a stream of fire issued from an old

and beautiful oak, which stood about 20

yards from our house.

And so as the dazzling light vanished,

the oak had disappeared and nothing remained

but a blasted stump.

When we visited the next morning,

we found the tree shattered in a single manner.

It was not splintered by the shock,

but entirely reduced to thin remnants of wood.

I never beheld anything so utterly destroyed.

The catastrophe of this tree excited

my extreme astonishment

and I eagerly inquire of my father and the nature

and origin of the thunder and lightning.

Huh. That's strange.

This paragraph's in a completely different language.

Looks like Latin.

I don't know.

I didn't see any more of these in here.

Must be a misprint.

- What the fuck was that?

- I don't know.

- It wasn't you?

- No, it came from up here.

- Who's ever in here, you better come out now.

The police are on the way. - There's no one

on this floor.

- It sounded like it came from up here.

- I know, but I've been here this whole time

and I haven't seen anybody.

- Alright, let's pack it up.

I'm gonna do a thorough search of the building.

I don't think it's safe for you to be here right now.

- Okay.

- There is a quote by Soran Kierkegaard

that I live by.

That is, life can only be understood backwards,

but it must be lived forwards.

I mean, of course it's essential we confront our past

but not live there.

Do you feel that's something that you can relate to?

- Yeah. Right now I feel like definitely living there.

- I understand.

Do you know what compartmentalizing is?

- Oh, sorry, my coffee.

One second. - Yeah, sure.

- Um...

- All right, I'm back. My apologies.

I think you're, I think you're frozen.

It could be my wifi.

Let me check the connection.

Okay. I lost your video.

I'm going to reset my router. Just give me one second.

Okay. Can you hear me?

Oh.

What are you trying to tell me, grandma?

- What's going on everybody?

I'm back again.

It is the Prince of the Paranormal,

and I have another spicy one for you guys.

Since 1892, there have been a series of murders and

or suicides that share unusual similarities and ties.

The perpetrators of these violent crimes possess the same

exact item, a one of a kind crimson leather bound book

titled Welcome Home.

The author Albert Thurman was a self-proclaimed warlock

who took credit for the murders.

Although he never committed them with his own hands,

he claimed it was the book he wrote that caused people

to commit heinous acts of violence.

Richard Clay, 45 years old.

In 1932, police arrived to his home in Cincinnati, Ohio

to a gruesome scene.

His wife and two children were found in the

cellar bludgeoned to death.

Clay was located in the attic sitting atop a locked trunk.

In the trunk, they found a bloody mallet

and the Crimson Book.

His eyeballs were found in the pockets of his overalls.

Simon Fritz, 11 years old from Hanover, Michigan.

In 1952, he brutally stabbed his sister a total

of 110 times in the woods near their home.

The kid claimed a man crawled out of the book

and chased her down.

Viola Patrick, 34 years old from Gary, Indiana.

In 1978, she confessed to the murder of 10 locals.

Her entire property was a graveyard.

The police discover 11 graves at her home,

10 of which the bodies were buried.

The 11th contained the Crimson Book.

I'll be doing a deeper dive into these later.

Comment below on which ones you guys are most interested in

hearing about, and I will get them to you.

Thank you guys for watching as always, and see you soon.

- I know you're here, grandma,

please talk to me.

Hope I'm not disturbing you.

- What was that? - Am I bothering you?

- No, you're fine. Am I bothering you?

- No, not at all.

I know this is probably weird.

- A little.

I mean, I've seen the ghost hunting show,

so I know the deal.

I can't hear you anyway, so pretend I'm not here.

- Okay.

Grandma, is there anything

that you can tell me about what happened to you?

I won't be afraid if you communicate.

Does the name Albert Thurman mean anything to you?

- Ozzie?

Oh, Ozzie...

Ozzie!

Ah, there you are.

Hello, Ozzie. How are you feeling?

More nightmares?

You don't look so well.

In fact, you look like you're dying.

I am right in here, Ozzie, you can come in.

Let's talk about your feelings.

Oh, come on.

You wanna get rid of those negative thoughts, don't you?

I can help with that.

- Okay, you're done here. I need you out!

- Wait, I just had something.

- No, I can't hear you hollering like that. You gotta go.

- I don't think you understand

what I just experienced here.

- Good. You got what you wanted.

Now get the fuck outta here.

- Oh no! - Get out!

- I don't know if this is just one big nightmare.

It's the most rational explanation, right?

God, Jesus.

Mom, Dad, just please just wake me up.

Please, please, please.

- Ozzie, it's your father.

Just me.

Look, I know you're upset.

I understand.

We were wrong.

I brought you some lunch and some stuff from the house.

- Not hungry.

- I came here to say that I respect your need for space

to collect your thoughts.

I'm not here to force you to talk to us.

You can take all the time you need.

I'm just here to say that I'm deeply sorry

and that I love you.

That is all.

- Why hide it, though?

Don't you think I deserve

to know my own history, to know who I am?

- Yes, you do. It was a stupid decision.

We were afraid it would disrupt your mental health.

Our family's had a history of mental illness

and we wanted to try to break that cycle.

I'm sorry for hurting you.

- Tell me about the book, Dad.

- What book?

- You gonna lie to me again?

- What do you know about the book?

- What is there to know about it?

- You stay away from all that nonsense.

Your grandmother was sick.

- No, she wasn't. - That's what it was.

- Ozzie, open the door.

- You need to leave, Dad.

- I told her to stay in the car.

- I just need to talk to you. Please.

- Get out. - Calm down, Ozzie.

- Get out. I don't wanna see you.

I don't wanna see her.

- I'm going. - This is important.

- Please take care of yourself.

I don't want anything bad happening.

- Get out!

- She doesn't want us here right now.

We have to go, Vicky. - I just want to talk to-

- Dear Ozzie, this was your favorite book as a child.

Whenever you were stressed

or sick, we'd read it to you and would calm you.

I thought you'd liked to have it.

Hope it helps. Love Dad.

- Nearly a century after Albert Thurman's death,

they had discovered a journal of his

and it was stashed beneath the floorboards of his manner.

It was a tell all, a confession.

In it, he explained how he worshiped a demonic

entity named Dalmeg.

He went into detail about the Crimson Book

and when he wrote the book, he hid an incantation,

a curse within the pages.

Now this text, when read would welcome the demon

to enter the body of the reader.

So he placed it in a library,

and from there it went from person to person.

It was Thurman's way of appeasing the entity.

He was giving it temporary vessels to live in.

- No, no, this can't be true.

I mean, that's not how reality works, right?

- Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds like some made up urban

legend, but there are historical records of it all.

You know, some of it was even published in newspapers.

You just have to dig hard enough.

- Oh my God.

- So where's the book?

Oh no, I'm not touching it.

This is it. It has to be.

Oh God, it smells awful.

- What should we do with it? - We should destroy it.

- But if what you're saying is true,

then maybe we can send it to science to study

and I can give them all my video evidence.

- No, no, no. This thing is dangerous, okay.

It's unpredictable.

They weren't able to keep it secure

for over a hundred years.

It kept disappearing from police evidence.

Now we have to destroy it now before it ruins someone else.

You didn't read any of it, did you?

- No. - Okay, good.

It's up here.

Ozzie.

- Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Coming.

- Alright. Give it.

Hey, gimme the book.

- Um...

- Ozzie...

- You know, I don't, I put it back inside.

You saw me.

- Shit, shit, shit! - I don't know.

- The book is Dalmeg's puppet.

He has the power

to control it and make it do things.

Okay. We have to find it.

We have to find it and keep others from reading it.

That's the only way to end this.

He's nothing without his weapon.

- Okay. Where could it be going?

- Probably the library.

That's where the book would most likely get read.

And that's what it wants.

- Okay. - Wait. Hey, look at me.

- What? - Your nose is bleeding.

- Huh? - Are you okay?

- Yeah. It bleeds when I'm stressed.

- Are you sure you're good? I can do-

- Yes.

Damn it, okay. I'm fine.

- Alright.

- Good evening.

- Good evening. - Please excuse the mess.

We haven't been open long.

- You have some very interesting things here.

- Yes. They belonged to my grandmother.

When she died,

I came back to sort things out.

- Oh, I'm sorry.

- Oh, I didn't mean to frighten you

when I came in.

It's just that,

all these people I've met here

acted like I was.

- Dad, wake up.

Get the phone, call my mother.

- What? - I'm sorry.

- You okay? - Yeah, why?

What's the matter?

- Can we get her some water?

- It's gotta be here.

Did you find anything yet?

- Huh? No, nothing yet.

- Damn.

- Did you hear that?

Listen.

- I don't hear anything.

If something is here, show yourself.

- Shh. I'm here.

- What is that?

- Is that... - Oh, I got it.

- All right, let's go.

Come on. Just pick it up. - Hold on.

I can't move. - Come on.

Let's just go.

Amir. Get up.

Amir.

Amir,

Amir, what are you doing?

Amir. We have to go.

- Let's go! Let's go!

- Grandma.

How could she do that to me?

You're not that cruel, are you?

- I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

- Was it him?

- I love you.

- What?

- I love you.

- No.

Oh, no no no no no no.

- Ozzie, I'm sorry. Please forgive me for everything.

I have another gift for you.

It's right in here.

- Come and talk to me baby.

I won't hurt you.

- What in the-

- We're still here.

- Yeah.

- Is it over?

- How is he now?

- I'm sorry.

- No, you don't need to apologize.

It's gonna be okay. I'm here with you.

You're loved.

- Can you read to me, dad?

- "Little Blue Balloon" by Patricia Pinkett.

The once lived a balloon

that was a little blue, a little blue balloon

lived in a family of joyful colorful balloons.

Big balloon house.

Mama purple balloon watered her balloon garden

while daddy green balloon read the daily balloon newspaper.

Brother yellow balloon painted a picture of a pretty balloon

and grandma pink balloon baked the tasty balloon pie,

but the little blue balloon felt alone, left out.

Unsure of what balloon activity to do.