Bite Sized Nightmares Podcast
Welcome to Bite Sized Nightmares, 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, supernatural and the real collide in ways that will leave you questioning everything.
But beware—I am not like other storytellers. My knowledge is 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.
Bite Sized Nightmares Podcast
We're Not In Kansas Anymore
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If you have questions, comments or suggestions you can email me at:
Exxa0001@gmail.com and I will get back to you.
Entering the Abandoned Park
Speaker 1The North Carolina . Humidity , thick and cloying , clung to them like a damp shroud , the air heavy with the scent of decaying leaves and rusted metal . Sarah , her phone , a useless brick consulted the tattered map . Its edges frayed and yellowed , the ink faded and smeared . It's gotta be around here somewhere , she muttered , pushing aside a curtain of thick , thorny vines , their barbs snagging on her clothes .
Speaker 1Ben , his face pale and drawn , nervously adjusted his glasses , his eyes darting from shadow to shadow . This place is seriously freaking me out . It feels wrong . Seriously freaking me out . It feels wrong . Emily , her eyes , wide and dark , pointed towards a break in the trees . There it is , the yellow brick road , cracked and overgrown , snaked up a steep hill , disappearing into the shadows of a decaying amusement park . The skeletal remains of the land of Oz loomed in the distance . A macabre monument to forgotten childhood dreams , a place where laughter had died and been replaced by a chilling silence .
Speaker 1Irene had always been a quiet presence at the park , Not a costumed performer , but the groundskeeper , a young woman with a haunted look in her eyes and an almost obsessive dedication to the place . She knew every rusted cog , every peeling paint chip , every forgotten corner . The park was her sanctuary , a place where she could escape the harsh realities of her past , a past that had left deep , invisible scars . Then came the incident A young man , a vandal , had broken into the park after closing , his laughter echoing through the empty corridors ,
Irene's Dark Past
Speaker 1a sound that grated on Irene's already frayed nerves . He'd been arrogant , dismissive , violating her sanctuary , her safe place , irene , in a blind rage fueled by years of suppressed trauma , had used a rusted wrench , a tool she knew intimately , to silence him . The silence that followed , the sudden absolute stillness , was intoxicating . The park , already decaying , became her canvas , her grotesque masterpiece . She used the discarded animatronics , the rusted tools , the very fabric of the park , to create her own twisted reality , a reflection of her own fractured psyche . The park's closure , the silence , allowed her to fully embrace her dark artistry to transform the remnants of childhood joy into instruments of terror . Years past , the park became her kingdom , her grotesque masterpiece . The faded gingham dress , once a uniform , became her shroud , a symbol of her descent into madness , the tools of her trade once used to maintain the parks illusion , or now instruments of her cruelty . The park , once a symbol of escapism , became a prison , both for her and for any unfortunate soul who dared to trespass .
Speaker 1The three teenagers entered the Emerald City , its once grand towers , now jagged and broken , standing like the teeth of a rotting beast . Rusted animatronics , their faces twisted into nightmarish grimaces , lay scattered across the floor , their vacant eyes staring into the void . The Tin man , a grotesque caricature of his former self , lay sprawled in a corner , his metallic skin flaking away , his empty eye sockets staring up at the crumbling ceiling , the scarecrow , its straw stuffing spilling out like entrails , hung limply from a broken beam . A macabre puppet in a silent
Meeting the Groundskeeper
Speaker 1play . This is wrong , emily , whispered , her voice trembling the words barely audible , above the wind whistling through the broken windows .
Speaker 1Suddenly , a figure emerged from the shadows , a wraith-like silhouette against the decaying backdrop . It was Irene . Her face was gaunt and lined , etched with years of solitude and a simmering madness . Her eyes hollow and dark like empty sockets . She wore a faded blue gingham dress , stained and torn , and her bare feet were caked with dirt and dried blood , were caked with dirt and dried blood . You don't belong here , she rasped her voice , a dry , grating whisper , like the rustling of dead leaves . This is my home , my art , my kingdom . Her voice held a strange childlike quality , a twisted echo of innocence , but her eyes betrayed a chilling darkness , a bottomless abyss of madness . We're just… leaving , sarah , stammered , taking a step back , her heart pounding in her chest . Irene's eyes narrowed , her gaze fixed on them , like a predator sizing up its prey . You've disrupted my work , you've trespassed on sacred ground . She moved with a surprising speed , a feral grace that belied her gaunt frame , grabbing ben by the arm . Her grip was like iron , her nails digging into his skin , leaving bloody trails . She dragged him towards a dark , cavernous room , the sound of his terrified screams echoing through
The Hunt Through Oz
Speaker 1the empty corridors , a chilling symphony of terror .
Speaker 1Sarah and Emily fled , their footsteps echoing through the decaying Park , their breaths ragged and panicked . They stumbled through the rusted poppy field , now a field of black dead stalks , their skeletal forms rattling in the wind , and past the looming silhouette of the wicked witch's castle , its dark windows like vacant eyes staring out into the night . Irene , however , was relentless , a predator on the hunt . She stalked them through the park , her voice echoing through the empty spaces , a chilling litany of twisted nursery rhymes and threats , her laughter , a high-pitched , unsettling sound that seemed to claw at their sanity . She had become one with the park , a grotesque reflection of its decay , a dark spirit haunting its abandoned corridors . She caught them .
Speaker 1Near the carousel , a rusted skeletal structure that stood like a monument to forgotten joys , its faded horses frozen in a perpetual silent gallop . She moved with a feral grace , her eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger , her movements precise and deadly . She had tools , remnants of her time at the park , now repurposed for her dark artistry Rusted farming implements , sharpened metal and tools . They couldn't identify their purpose now twisted and perverse . Tools she had used for years to maintain and fix the park , now instruments of torture and death . Ben now a gruesome parody of the tin man , his body contorted and wired to the carousel , his metallic skin flaking and his eyes vacant . A silent testament to Irene's madness . Emily , bound and gagged , was strapped to the scarecrow , her eyes wide with terror , her body trembling with fear .
Speaker 1Irene spoke , her voice , a sing-song , a warped melody of madness , a chilling lullaby . She spoke of the park , her masterpiece , and how these intruders had marred it , how they had disrupted her perfect , twisted world . She spoke of how she was making them part of her art forever , transforming them into grotesque exhibits in her macabre museum .
Irene's Twisted Masterpiece
Speaker 1Sarah , bound and gagged , watched in horror as Irene transformed her friends into grotesque works of art . Her movements precise and methodical , her face devoid of emotion . She used rusted tools to carve , to slice , to dismantle , her hands moving with a chilling efficiency . When she was done , she turned to Sarah , her eyes dark and empty , reflecting the madness within .
Speaker 1Now for the final piece . She whispered her voice , a dry , rasping sound like the scraping of metal on bone . She worked for hours until the moon hung high in the sky , a pale , silent witness to the carnage . When she was done , she stood back , her face smeared with blood , and surveyed her handiwork , her eyes gleaming with a mad satisfaction . The park was silent . The only sound , the wind whistling through the broken windows , a mournful lament for the lost innocence .
Speaker 1Irene , her eyes gleaming with a mad satisfaction , began to dance . Her movements jerky and unnatural , a grotesque ballet of madness . She danced among the corpses , her laughter echoing through the empty park , a chilling , high-pitched sound that seemed to claw at the very fabric of reality . The land of Oz was hers and now it would be theirs too , forever . She had her scarecrow , lion and tin man , the twisted echoes of the park's cheerful past . Now a symphony of madness would play on , a testament to her dark artistry , a chilling reminder of the horrors that lurked within the decaying heart of the land of Oz . It would be years before she was discovered , and by that time it wasn't the land of Oz . It would be years before she was discovered , and by that time it wasn't the land of Oz anymore . It was more like the house of a thousand corpses .
