What Happened to Dorothy Bell? (2024) Movie Script
1
- 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.
- 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.