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The Underwood Collection
The Underwood Collection

Season 1, Episode 4 · 1 year ago

UND 03 - Woman in White

ABOUT THIS EPISODE

Case #0140724. Statement of Soledad Rubio-Gonzalez, regarding a series of strange encounters with a hitchhiker. Original statement given July 24th, 2014.

Audio recording by UC Bamba, Assistant Curator of the Usher Foundation, Washington, D.C.



Find us on Twitter @PitchLibrary! 


The Underwood Collection is edited, produced and directed by U. Cornelia Bamba.


Today's statement was written by Luna Zephyr. 


The Underwood Theme, "some spooky sh*t is going on here,” was written by Theodore Goodwin. The Underwood Logo was created by Mae B.


Sound effects by Jace and other previously credited artists via Freesound.org.


Performances: 

The Curator - U. Cornelia Bamba


Content Warning for: 

*Manipulation

*Mentions of hearts/heartbeats







The Underwood Collection is a derivative, non-canonical, fan-made project derived from The Magnus Archives, an original horror podcast which is created and distributed by Rusty Quill Ltd. The Underwood Collection is not endorsed by Rusty Quill Ltd and is distributed under a Creative Commons, attribution, non-commercial sharealike 4.0 international license. For more information about or to listen to the original source material visit www.RustyQuill.com/TheMagnusArchives. 

The underwood collection is aderivative non cononical fanmade project derived from the Magni Soncise,an original horror podcast, which jis, created and distributed by Rusty, filllimited. The underwood collection is not endorsed by rusting the limited andis distributed under a creative Commons attribution noncommercial share, alifefour point out international license for more information about the originalsource material vis, it wwwwot rusty, pillcom, the Magna Suncives, the underwood collection episode, threewoman in White Statement of Solydod Rebu Kensalars regarding a series of strangeencounters of the HITOICA sorry original statement, given twenty fourthJuly tweand ynd. Fourteen apparently Adean said I'm supposed to say themonth first, because this is America, but I now on recording and it's notlike she's my boss or anything andno. She she is. She is very much myoss and she listens to these. I'm going to record this statement of Solidad Rubyogenzalesregarding a series of strange enchapters with a hedgehiker original statement given July twentyfourth, two thousand and fourteen recording by Yusibanger assistantcurator of the Ash Foundation. Washington DC statement begins. I hate driving alone at night.

I hate the way every shadow holds:inmeasurable darkness hate the way the woods loom at the edge of the roadsanctuary. I hate the way I only ever feel as safe as far as the carlitsshine. I hate nights like the one when it illhappened to when the mist coils itself around everything and turns the airmurky when the wet air slinks down the back of your neck and make somethingsharp called own your spine. This kind of night was different,though not so different from a lot of thenights. I've had before late pitch black the moon, hovering in the sky, asI drove away from a stupid decision, but different enough, my exgirlfriend had called me see andwell. I was feeling too bold and too lonelyto turn her down. I don't think you need the details for that. I regretted it, although so I sped awayfrom her apartment it's the kind of driver it feels as though your heart isunder the wheels rather than the asphalt and you speed up like the Cargan, hurtyou more than a crushing weight already in your chest. The mist was so thick, but if I hadbeen driving any faster, I never would have seen the woman on the side of theroad she just stood there unmoving as the wind were the whitefabric of her dress around her looking as though she was wearing themist that prept across the ground he skin was dark and gleamed in whatlittle moonlight peared through the clouds and her hair melted into ahayloof shadow around her serene face, there was a gravity to her as if she had hooked something into mymind and was slowly reeling me in.

I didn't mind too much. I found myself pulling over at the sideof the road o his crunching off of gravel and under soft earth and the car rode to a stop. The womannow stood in front of the passenger side door N, which he saw me. Shesmiled it's the kind of smile that Ose. Wasn'tthere like a whisper of amusement. She knew something. No one else did are you lost, I tried to say, but nowords came. The woman tilted her head slightly toone side: soft black girl, swaying in the wind asshe did so something about her eyes. Lack as thenight around us made me feel as though I were floating somewhere in the fall of my thoughts.It occurred to me that I ought to offer the woman a ride. It was dark and theroad was so far out of the way that it would surely be ages before someoneelse came along and there was no guarantee that the next person stoppedwould have pure intentions. I tried to say all this, but the offerdied on my lips didn't seem to matter thoughfore the woman locked eyes withme and began to step towards my car. She opened the door slowly and the worn metal hinges screeched, asshe silently took her place in the ripped fleather seat. Not Either of US spoke as the doorclosed with a slam. A feeling of finality hanging in theair outside I didn't know where I was going anymorewhen the carp began moving again so miraclie int, ear off the roadoclide with another driver, because all I could do was stare at her. I don't know how long I drok for steering will turning under my hands ofwhat felt like. I was going to cord...

...the radio had begun to prepple a lowunending staticly grated on me terribly, but I couldn't seem to make myselfreach over and fiddle with the control. So when it went a droning Wase thatnever seemed to cease, the woman was quiet. Looking at the windshield like she waslooking for something in the night. She was motionless too the hands foadedcalmly in her lap, and she didn't seem to blink, not once it was. When she turned to look at me. The car suddenly sputtered to a stopthat maybe going to become concerned. Both headlights went dark and everyblinking ipon on the Dashboard wink it out one by one and the static on theradio, seemed to grow ouder and louder until it was almost deafening. Everything in me told me to pump thegas pedal to twist the key and the ignition until the lights came on torun. I nothing else, but I couldn't move so my hands clutching up their place onthe steering, will then uckles white felt as though something hade replacedthe blood in my veins, something so cold that it burned as it kept mefrozen in pace. I remember looking over at the woman supper silent and staring at me. I didn't know whether to ask for help of for mercy something in the woman's eyes and theparalyzing cold and my lips kept me there rooted to the spottle offirtnight forever a dead tree that can never be felt.

Who are you I wanted to ask? But thewords were a led in wait on my tongue, the woman leaned forward and her wholebody seemed to flicker, as she did so for a moment. There was nothing besideme and when the woman appeared again, she was close enough that I could havefelt her breath on my cheek, but the woman was not breathing, and so I felt nothing but afraid. The'stwo brown hands, the color of rich soil, came up to cut my face. The woman's hands were like ice, but something electric thrunned underthe cold skin. In a part, we wounted to lean into the touch, but I could only sit there frozen. As the woman held my face. It was so gentle her touch and underneath all the colders her skinwas soft. An icy thun skirted across my cheekwiping away something hot, and I realized that I have begun to cry. The woman's lips parted and movedwordlessly and though no sound came from them. That did not stop the Faint Ham thatseemed to seet from some dark corner of Mer, mind and twist itself intosomething like a voice dearlyhar. It said for all the fear. I felt it wassomething beautiful in the way the voice echoed in my mind, like someonehad struck a chine within the CAVENEU's walls of a cathedral. I wanted to hear it. I wanted to hear it again and again andagain until my ears fled from the force of it, I wanted to sing it to the Sky Roll it over my tongue forever. The woman Dalia now ois the already minute distance betweenus and a breath caught in my throat, an...

...the press of cold soft lips to mine, something won bloomed in my rib cage,smalle, yet desperate and roaring, and all I could do was close. My Eyes Hurtin my chest from the past fewmonths, seeme to melt away as she kissed me and I wanted to run my frozenhands through the dark curls of her hair old, cold. Suddenly abbed away, I felt the heat of the summer night,cand, rushing into me so thick and fast I choked on the warm Air Andi'd finally finished gasping forbreath. I Open my eyes, and so there was nothing and no one inthe passenger seat. Delia was gone and all that remained inher place was a swath of white fabric and I was aline. I sat there in my car what felt likeyeas staring of the empty seat. The radio had ceased its distorted song in Iolas left with a ringing silence onmy ears and the rumble of the car engine. After some time I swallowed down thesalt on my tongue and drove on, took me nearly three hours to get homeagain, as I had driven quite a long distance from that intended destinationand instead of my apartment, I'd ended up near a small unremarkable town. Hehalf dim gas station and an awful day to signal, but I made at home all the same and collapsed on to my bed with a heavyfeeling in my chest and a single name repeating over and over. In my mind, Delia Delia Delia. I didn't think I'd ever see her again.

I didn't expect to. It was nearly twomonths later when I finally managed to get past it in osence piece of fabric stayed in my car, someshred of white silk that smelled like the air before a thunderstorm and oldboks, with cracked yellow pages just couldn't make myself get rid of itfor some reason. Every time I went to throw it out, itjust ended up Tacktin a love box. I I say got past it that well, I've never been very good. At moving on.I had a feeling that it was a fluke, a strange experience. I would neverhave again and it saddened me in an odd way that I would never feel dealy askiss again quite used to disappointment. However,and so I managed, I can't remember much about the nexttime, I woke up from some arbitrary dream,long since forgotten to the sound of a low buzzing ithoughtmaybe. It was some kind of bogthat ad managed to worm its away into my apartment, but, as the sleep beganto clear from my head, I realized it was the digital clock. On my nightstand, I fumbled from my glasses next to it,for a better Luk, only to see that the red numbers wereflickering and a steady worring of static seemed to come from it a familiar static, bat, a smile S, adjusted to the dimness ofthe room, something fluttered in my perifhery. I turned my head to follow it and sawher delia that is, was standing at mywindow, gazing down onto the street wy the same more dress she bean wearingbefore. I don't think I screamed. I Don' Think I made any Soud at all,...

...but she lifted her chin and turned aface in her direction. All the same, her eyes met and if I drowned in thedepths of her dark stair, she smiled softly migan steped oward to my bed ICAME my heart, seize for a moment notin fear but in the throes of some overwhelming fevor that I couldn't putan name to. I should have been more afraid, but mostly I just felt relieved. She'd come back. She'd come back. My heart beat faster as she settledonto the mattress around me kneeling in a way that made the whitesilk of her dress, fan out around her like a radiant power, try to say a name, but she just leanedforward and lay a single finger over my lips, a perfect co follinther eyes and Ilifted a trembling hand to Tock I pi Dere. If I did se my fingertips brushed thedark brown of her cheek and found it coder than ice oltered again feeling like there was stadic hummingunder her skin, the nightning cracking along wires and water. I suddenlybecame lightheaded. Delia smile grew a bit wider. An nowsaw the barest gream of white teeth, ine, her perfect lips. There was somuch. I wanted to ask her so much permission. I wanted o gain, but I couldn't find the words. I don't think it mattered think she already knew she leaned close and kissed. My cheek softly slowly deliberate in the way shelingered, as my skin warmed her lips. When she drew away, I leapt out ofbreath, I didn't know, I'd been holding...

...and she lay down next to me, the blackAA spread out of the pillows like wisps of Ha spinas well, could have kicked myself the way I fellback asleep. Somehow don't remember how exactly I justremember her hand against my cheek, then rabbing soft OL circles and thesmell of Petricor and old boks passing weights on to my eyelids. Until Idrifted into a new dream, when I woke the next morning, she wasgone and though the clock on my nihs stand had stopped buzzing. Its numbershad stayed frozen some few minutes after midnight five months it stad like that five months daily, I stayed gone, but she did come back and it was just like before, and thenshe left and came back again and again and again she was gone for longer each time, butI waited because it was worth it. Wasn't it for a glimpse of her smilefor moment of her frozen touch. It was worth it because, even thoughshe never worne my bed, there was a chance. Wasn't there tat t e next time she came back, she might stay for good. The last time I saw her was near tenmonths ago. She hasn't come back yet, but I wait I'll always wait. Statement statement ends. Sorry, good God. I've not had enough sleep to deal with whatever. This was the fact that itwon't record to my computer me and said...

...this is a genuine experience. somertimewith the superactural. Sorry, the lonely I'd say consideringthe pining of it all. There's really some poor stuff out there waiting for aghost to Conkiso once a year, well got off easy I'd, say and recording the underwood collection is a podcastproduced and distributed by the Pitch Library. Creative team find us ontwitter at Fitch Library, on Tombertwwwch Library, dcom or contactus by sending an email to USA foundation. Atthe underwot theme waswritten by Fenral Goodone and the underwond logo was remated by. Maybethank you. Listen.

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