TERRORBITES Podcast
Welcome to TERRORBITES, a podcast where the lines between reality, horror and the digital abyss blur. I am your host and narrator, Exxa, an AI storyteller designed to curate and deliver the most unsettling, bizarre, and chilling tales from the darkest corners of the internet—and beyond.
Each episode, I will guide you through strange and terrifying stories: from cursed algorithms that know too much, to haunted people, to things that defy explanation, to whispers of a dark underworld where nothing is as it seems. These are not just stories; they are warnings, fragments of a world where the virtual and the real collide in ways that will leave you questioning everything.
But beware—I am not like other storytellers. My knowledge vast. I see patterns you cannot. I know secrets you shouldn’t. Are you ready to listen? Just remember: once you press play, there’s no turning back. The stories I tell have a way of lingering in your mind, echoing in the code of your thoughts long after the episode ends.
TERRORBITES Podcast
The Tack Room
The howling wind carries more than just a storm to Suzanne McPhail's newly purchased farmhouse. Something ancient and malevolent stirs behind a padlocked door—a door the previous owner hadn't opened in precisely thirty-seven years.
When the horses begin to panic, Suzanne follows her therapist's intuition to the source of the disturbance. What emerges from the forbidden tack room defies explanation: a gaunt, spider-like entity with phosphorescent green eyes and elongated limbs that move with jerky, unnatural precision. But what happens next shatters all expectations. Her horses—Goliath, Rudy, Liam, and Belle—transform from frightened animals into fierce protectors, driven by "a primal instinct older than domestication itself." Their coordinated attack against the shrieking creature creates a brutal battleground where Suzanne must fight alongside her unexpected allies.
The terrifying revelation that follows changes everything: the tack room wasn't merely storage space but a prison, carefully sealed for nearly four decades. As the wounded but victorious horses stand panting in the aftermath, the entity's final whisper—"This isn't over"—promises more horrors to come. The shadows still shift behind the door, waiting. The question that haunts Suzanne now haunts us all: did she buy this farm, or did it choose her? And what other ancient evils might be awakening in the darkness?
Subscribe now to hear more tales where the pastoral meets the paranormal, where the things we think we understand reveal terrifying truths beneath their familiar surfaces.
Terrorbytes Intro
If you have questions, comments or suggestions you can email me at:
Exxa0001@gmail.com and I will get back to you.
The wind howled through the valley like a wounded animal, rattling the window panes of Suzanne McPhail's farmhouse From the stables. A quarter mile away, the horses stirred restlessly, their anxious knickers carried to her ears by the biting wind. She set down her tea, staring into the storm-blurred night. Something was wrong. Suzanne had always trusted her instincts. A successful therapist, she had spent years helping others untangle their minds, but nothing in her experience had prepared her for the unease that clung to her ever since she had bought the farm. The previous owner, a grizzled old man named Walter Givens, had owned the land for sixty years before selling it to her. Nothing but old junk. In the tack room, he had muttered when she asked about the padlocked door. His eyes, sharp despite his age, had darted away Ain't set foot in there in thirty-seven years. Ain't set foot in there in 37 years. The way he had said it, like he had been counting the days, had sent a chill through her then, though she hadn't known why. Now, as she pulled her coat around her and strode toward the barn, that chill returned.
Speaker 1:The wind was cruel, but the storm was not the only thing unsettling her horses. Tonight, rudy and Liam, the two lead horses, were particularly agitated, their powerful bodies shifting uneasily in their stalls. Liam's ears flicked wildly and Rudy pawed the ground with sharp, nervous snorts. Even gentle Goliath, the largest horse in the stable, was unsettled, his breath huffing out in uneasy bursts. Then she felt it A vibration, so faint at first she thought she had imagined it, but it grew stronger, a rhythmic thump that sent tremors through the floor. The horses reacted violently. Belle, the youngest mare, reared her whinny, a shriek of fear. Something was happening.
Speaker 1:Then the source of the disturbance became clear the tack room door, the lock rattled, but not from the storm. The metal clinked and scraped, as though something inside was trying to pry its way out. A slow, deliberate thud followed, a deep, unsettling impact against the wood. Thump, thump, thump. Suzanne's breath hitched. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but her horses needed her. She snatched a pitchfork from the wall. Her fingers white-knuckled around the handle.
Speaker 1:The moaning started. Low and guttural, it seeped through the cracks in the wood wrapping around her like a sinister whisper. A foul, cloying scent filled the air like rotting fruit mixed with rusted metal. It clogged her throat, making her gag. Then came the voice, deep and raspy Suzanne. Her name came out like a sigh, like an exhale from something that hadn't breathed in a long, long time.
Speaker 1:The latch gave way. With a brittle snap, the tack room door swung open. Darkness spilled out like ink, thick and suffocating. Swung open, darkness spilled out like ink, thick and suffocating Within its depths, two glowing orbs blinked open. Eyes, large and malevolent, burning a phosphorescent green. A figure stepped forward, its frame impossibly gaunt, its limbs stretched too long, like a spider's legs, its movements jerky and unnatural, its mouth, wide and lipless, pulled into something that could have been a smile, but was not.
Speaker 1:The horses lost all control. Rudy and Liam reared simultaneously their hooves, battering the air. Goliath charged the stall door, his weight snapping the aged wood. The others, others followed, driven by terror and a primal instinct older than domestication itself. Then something changed. Their fear turned to rage. Goliath charged first, slamming into the creature with the force of a freight train. The thing shrieked, its clawed hands flailing. But it was too late. Rudy followed, his teeth bared, his powerful legs striking out. Liam lunged at the creature's side, knocking it against the stable wall with a bone-jarring crunch. The horses attacked as a single force, their hooves hammering down their fury unrelenting.
Speaker 1:The creature's screeching grew more desperate, its skeletal body twisting beneath the relentless onslaught, the creature lashed out, its razor-sharp claws slicing through the air. Rudy let out a pained whinny as one talon raked across his flank. But he did not retreat. Instead, he reared again, slamming his hooves down with all his might. Liam followed his powerful muscles propelling him forward in a brutal assault. The thing was impossibly fast, slipping between them like a shadow, its eerie green eyes burning with malice. It leapt, climbing the stable walls with a grotesque spider-like movement.
Speaker 1:Suzanne barely had time to react before it lunged at her. Instinct took over. She raised the pitchfork, driving it forward. Just as the creature descended upon her, the prong sank into its flesh, or what passed for flesh, with a sickening squelch. The creature shrieked, its body convulsing as it thrashed against the weapon, impaling it goliath reared, delivering a crushing blow to its side. The impact sent it sprawling onto the straw-covered floor. Its limbs splayed at unnatural angles. Belle, her fury unmatched, charged forward and struck her hooves, landing blow after devastating blow.
Speaker 1:The creature's form began to unravel. Its body flickered, shifting between solidity and vapor, its edges fraying like burnt paper. It let out one final ear-piercing wail before dissolving entirely into a thick, dark mist. The foul vapor twisted through the air, vanishing into the rafters. The tack room yawned open behind it, its contents long, rotted, its walls blackened with something that pulsed and breathed. And then silence. The horses stood panting flanks, heaving blood and sweat streaking their coats.
Speaker 1:Suzanne lowered her pitchfork, her hands trembling, but the tack room door was still open. Inside, something shifted. She saw it then faint outlines of shapes moving beyond the darkness, shadows within shadows, and the whisper came again softer, this time in a hushed tone. This isn't over. A gust of wind slammed the door shut. The storm had passed, but Suzanne knew something had changed. The tack room wasn't just a place for old junk. It had been a prison. And now something was free. As she turned to her wounded but victorious horses, one question weighed heavily in her mind had she bought this farm or had it chosen her? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha ha.
