ANNOUNCEMENT: I have started a Substack, where you can follow me if you’re so inclined. The idea is to simul-post on both platforms, so readers can choose their platform. I’m doing this to increase my reach in absence of traditional social media platforms like Facebook, Instagram, Threads, X, and TikTok.
Spoilers below. Please listen to the story here before reading my thoughts.
Weighty title, I know, but it’s true.
If you’re not yet familiar with the indie horror podcast sensation Knifepoint Horror, I hope my suggestion will put you on a path of discovery to one of the genre’s most unique voices.
Soren Narnia, the author and narrator behind Knifepoint Horror, has the uncanny ability to tell stories in a way that makes them believable. His minimalist style & casual narration make his stories feel improvised, and the slow build of horror work so well that it’s hard to understate its effectiveness.
The podcast has been running for over 15 years and has a dedicated following. I’ve been listening to these stories since about 2018. There is a large backlog (over 100 episodes at time of this writing), and some of the episodes contain multiple bite-sized stories. A few of the episodes have even been adapted into short films.
It truly feels like a friend is telling you something that happened to him while you’re on a long car ride together, winding through the twisted paths of a dark and remote country road. Nothing but the trees and unknown wildlife as companions.
In “Pretender,” an author meets a cab driver named Lee Ellen Shook on his way to a book signing. A year or so later, he sees this woman on a documentary about a rural commune. The woman looks the same, but she is acted completely differently, which amuses the author. Years later, while working on another novel, he finds Lee again, this time in archival video footage from a Neo-Nazi rally. Her enthusiasm at the rally unsettles him, especially when he sees that the clip is only a few weeks old. Years later, across the ocean in the UK, the author (now an editor) goes to a party at his boss’s house and sees Lee once again. This time, she’s dressed in expensive clothing and chatting with the literati. Instead of saying hello to her, the narrator leaves the party, unsettled that the American Lee suddenly has a forced British accent.
The narrator decides not to investigate this coincidence. He even says “live and let live.” Years later, once again, he encounters Lee, this time in the newspaper. She’s the only suspect in a triple murder, and is currently on the run, her whereabouts unknown. Thirteen years later, the now much older narrator is relaxing after a stressful day at a corporate PR firm when his landline rings. It’s Lee, telling him that she’s “passing through” and would like to meet him to talk about books. She remembers him from their initial meeting in her cab. She’s been a fan of his novels, and she was wondering if the address in the phone book is correct. The narrator says it is, and then waits in his living room for Lee to arrive.
As he watches her approach, he loses his nerve and escapes, avoiding his home for days. He makes a report to the police and decides to move on. He doesn’t hear from Lee again, and decides to never follow up on her whereabouts. He’s a little too scared that he could easily become just like Lee, flitting from life to life, wearing personalities and identities like coats.
It’s an unsettling story, one that gets under my skin especially. The unnamed narrator of this story lived their life, doing nothing wrong ostensibly, making no poor choices, yet he is still haunted by this woman, despite only ever having one interaction with her. You can do nothing wrong, and still find yourself in the path of something dreadful. It is a grim reminder, but what is a horror story except a grim reminder of what could happen?
The Night Bulletin 