THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES
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- Опубліковано 19 сер 2024
- MAG152 - Case #8370108 - Hezekiah Wakely
Statement regarding their career as a gravedigger, compiled from a series of letters to Nathaniel Beale between 1837 and 1839.
The Magnus Archives reads of the tale of a 19th century gravedigger whose outlook changes significantly after a number of incidents lead them to see the quiet appeal of the earth.
Content Notes: Burial alive, possible suicide ideation
Starring: The Archivist - Jonathan Sims; Helen Richardson - Imogen Harris
Writer: Jonathan Sims
Director: Alexander J Newall
Producer: Lowri Ann Davies
Editors: Alexander J Newall, Elizabeth Moffatt, Brock Winstead
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"when did your discomfort EVER stop you from serving the Beholding" and "no, it gives it a certain flavor. a seasoning" are both comedically terrifying
"I cut the cord, and then he was quiet" has got to be one of the most chilling lines in this whole series i've heard. brrr this episode got to me, especially with the narrators gradual corruption
bro just wants to take a nap i get it i get it
He’s just a sleepy boi
I love that the man whose last name is “Wakely” is obsessed with sleep
Also a Wake can be used to refer to a funeral precession so it's a double pun, I love this man's weird ass humor in his writing
Or Wakely because of his insomnia 😅
@@azulBjort_1406 yes and he has an obsession with sleep.. because of his insomnia
Helen's speech patterns and laughter are exactly the same as Michael's now, it's very disturbing. Even that little sigh after laughing echoingly... This series has a lot of good characters and excellent voice actors, but Helen's little arc and the acting behind me have me particularly impressed.
It's really awesome because you can keep coming back to it and finding cool little details to appreciate, because it's so well-written, acted, directed, produced, etc. that there's always something to appreciate
What’s funny is that Michael Shelley did that little sigh after laughing too, so I’m wondering if that’s something the Distortion started doing when it became Michael and then just kept when it became Helen
@@avet9413ooh that’s a cool concept! I always thought of it as „if the distortion was a human, how would it act“ and that’s where those mannerisms come from, the distortion having to speak and laugh like a person (certainly not a normal person tho). Maybe it just happens to a person if they serve a certain part of the spiral for too long because of how their brains process being kind-of you and also unknowable and at the same time you’re part of a system of hallways idk
I just want my boy back😭😭😭😭
This guy really confessed a murder through neglected support to his friend and was surprised that he was not cool with it
The guy needs to get better friends tbh
@@amphitritemists4595 IKR
Not even through neglect; he actively murdered the dude when he cut the bell.
@@Jazzisa311 Exactly. If the bell fell off and he walked away, that would be neglect. Dude actually took the time out of his day to cut it off.
i mean it was the 1800s stuff was weird back then
um I don't APPRECIATE the FACT that Jon just calls her JANE now... (He feels closer to her and understands her better 😥)
Me listening to this like "Is this the End or the Buried?"
*listens to the second letter*
"Ah, the Buried"
i think it's a merge between both given how Hezekiah aches with envy of the dead
They're so closely intertwined... I think the Buried split away from the Terminus... I also think Slaughter and War split away from the Terminus... What else came from our universal fear of death? The stillness? The darkness? Desolation or loss?
Boy, just love Helen showing up now and being all "
H̝͖͓̳͕͓̩ͬ̽̇̒̽e͍̦͍͉̻̜̞̋͊ͤ̆l̛̞̘̭̤͈̬l̴͔̖͙̆ͬ̈́ͥ̈ǒ̧̅ͦ̾̿ͦ,̫̣͙͚ ̞̼̳̜͌͗ͩ͑̓ͥͤȦ͚͓̮͙̗̿͡r̜̺̺̜ͬ̏c̝͎̯͎͚ͩ̃ͬ͝h̺̆i̠̽̇̿͆̇͗v̥̳͈͐͌ͯ̎i̷̞̳̦͔s̳͕̰̻͚̭ṯ͖̼͉̙̺̱̆͞!̷̬͕͚̩̺̮̏ͮ!"
TelenTerror same man
As someone with sleeping issues, some parts of this guy’s argument actually sound pretty great. Not a fan of the whole suffocation business but he makes getting buried sound kinda cozy, especially when it’s your own breathing that keeps you up at night.
There IS this ONE condition known as *autoerotic asphyxiation* so... Buried is kinky
"...especially when it’s your own breathing that keeps you up at night."
Massive snorer here so I feel where you're coming from; but just remember that that full-body jolt that wakes you up randomly when you've just barely started to doze off comes from your body noticing your blood-oxygen levels dropping and panics, so unfortunately the suffocation brings it's own sleep-deprivation issues as well...
Looks, like we have a nascent avatar of Choke over here.
I knew there will be a comment like this but it's still funny to actually read it
Careful. The buries might include you among its followers. You seem to be a natural buried guy
Maybe Jon remains so close to who he was because the Eye requires a degree of objectivity. To see what is really there, to STARE into someone, you need that, as well as the human mind to understand humans. So, Jon remains more himself than most Avatars, so that he can do that.
It might even want him guilty, so he would always feel and know just how far he's fallen
@@Axius27 It's also good entertainment for Beholding, isn't it? That's why we're here anyway...
The poor guy thought his friend was bae but turns out he was just fam
I can't be the only one who thinks that an alternative title for this episode could have been "Dirt Nap"
why dont u just get a weighted blanket and maybe you'll calm down
Don’t know if they really had those in the 1830s, but maybe he could have made one filled with dirt? That might’ve helped. :)
But the blanket never did anything🙃
@@amphitritemists4595 ayyyyy
Imean, it didn't
@@amphitritemists4595 God I love this fandom 😭
As much as I miss good ol' Mike, Helen's voice and laugh is awesome
Her voice is starting to get the distortion effect that Michael's had. She's further along in her becoming
Of topic nice profile pic
and btw I've been wanting to ask someone about this one thing
I feel like the character of
Annabelle Cain is a reference or was inspired by Annabeth Chase,
both due to the similar names and the fact that Annabell is a web/spider Avatar when Annabell has a big arachnophobia, (I actually find it quite amusing what they did there) I also noticed when we got to listen to Annabelle's statement like Annabeth she seems have a quiet calculated way of thinking ,which I guess is what you need to be a Avatar of the web and Annabeth being a daughter of Atena and all. ✌️
everyone in the comments are always sharing spooky things that happen while listening to tma, and i’ve finally got my own haha. right after the line “he deserved to rest. so i cut the cord” my earbuds died. i sat there for a minute just stunned, so freaky
tell me about it, one time I was listening to one of The Dark episodes and the power cut out, I accepted right then and there that I was boned
A really cold shiver went down my spine when I heard that line
People will just become avatars of fears for good night's sleep in tma
The part when you realized someone alive's been buried and the Avatar of the Buried cut off his bell in a matter of a few sentences. Terrifying
Why do I have the sneaking suspicion that this Wakely dude is the one who created The Coffin. He's an Avatar of the Buried and is a Gravedigger, if he isn't the origin of that thing I will be shocked
Wait, good catch
oooh!!
definitely either him, or it just **appeared** one day
@@mjamin9124 even if it did just appear, I don't doubt he had something to do with it being passed around
Ooh that kinda makes sense though! With his first dream of the Buried was during a storm, and how the coffin "sings" whenever it rains
I don't usually like The Spiral but I am proud of Helen for starting to get the echo in her laugh
This is the first time we heard Helen properly Laugh like Micheal! Every time she’s on screen I can hear her slowly become more and more part of the distortion!!!
"something interfering with my connection to the eye" Jon it's not wifi
Well, in some sense, the Eye is a spooky google
They need to put a sticky note on John when he’s hungry so people know not to talk to him until after he’s had a statement or two ☠️
I like Helen, but I miss Michael :(
Max is afraid me too ):
Missing door husband:c
Ah his laugh, I miss it... him too
Hubband is gone I’m in tears
We got a door wife,but at what cost? 😔
"my physicality is as much an illusion as anything else about me" is both a perfect statement of my gender identity and the rawest fucking line ive ever heard
Okay it just now dawned on me, the coincidental alignment of the Dreadgods being called patrons, and Alex reading out their patrons at the start of the episodes.
This guy is creepy but some of the stuff he says hits home to be honest. He might be my favorite non-recurring avatar at the moment
I don't think he's a full avatar. Just someone who is touched by a fear. These people can also manifest some powers so the confusion is understandable... And probably what Rusty Quill wanted.
@@arifhossain9751 Thanks for clearing that up! I still don't know for sure what the standards of being an avatar is
@@lordbaphie It's like how Simon said last episode. If it feels right.
I think he might have actually appeared already: in episode 71 (the london underground one) when Karolina got to the platform she saw a dirty man with a shovel walking away, then the train came. It might have been Hezekiah, it was definitely an avatar of the Buried.
My face non-recurring avatar/agent of an entity is Toby Carlisle. Just. Meat man go brr
he nailed meat to his walls and I find that funny. that's literally all there is to it lmao
beetle wife guy is a close second
I find it fascinating how one person can put on completely different genders, professions, mindsets, epochs and talking styles and just. Write from that perspective.
A dude writing letters from XIX century? There you go, religious talk, slightly rarer expressions, general mildness.
A cult person obsessed with their faith? Please welcome: a lot of aggression, obsession and threats.
A person who is going crazy with their lack of sleep? Oh, you can _hear_ it happening.
As a writer and a literary scholar, I am extremely impressed.
I won't even talk about Helen and Jon's interaction here. It's all high-quality drama and incredibly interesting thoughts, and you don't talk about that shit, you feel it with every fiber of your damned soul.
I’m also a writer and I’m really impressed with that show
It just captivates you in a way I can’t explain
As if it was a power by itself
@@frogonthebikehehi like how you split up these replies.
@@frogonthebikehehit’s fun :D
It's sad that the only one being nice to Jon is Helen. She's the only one he can actually talk to without being harassed.
The problem here is not enough lateral thinking.
The Distortion feeds on the fear and confusion of believing oneself to have gone insane. The actual death by starvation is beside the point. So why not catch and release? Why not let them out for a few days to get some food and water before sucking them back in? Why not hang out with them in the hallway cracking jokes and establishing rapport as Michael did with that insomniac woman? Why not set them out and let them live a normal life for years untill they are finally sure it was all a bad dream before sucking them up and setting them someplace in Australia after a week? Why not do it three times? Why not repeat the pattern untill they are *certain* that it will always happen again, then do nothing for decades before showing up as an old friend at their deathbed and offering another way out entirely.
The Archivist feeds on the second hand fear of other encounters. The Watcher is not opposed to spreading knowledge. Why not make a deal? Say: "Good morning, I am The Archivest, and you have a story to tell me. You will tell give me your statement because I can explain to you *why* it happened and that is my Price. You will have nightmares after, but I hardly think you need my help for that." Humans one and all have a drive to know and understand after all. Few will refuse such bargain, and if they do it is OK! You don't need to eat *everyone*. There is enough to go around.
Their fear stops them from completely rationalizing anything. They think the illogical presence of the Fears can't be defeated by logic. It's the recurring theme, no? Until they learn to accept the fear and recognize it for what it is, none of the Archive Gang is going to think more than 1 step ahead.
ishner youd be a really good avatar
Fascinating.
Wish I could save comments. You just solved TMA.
This doesn't fix all of them though. The devastation, for instance, can't be satisfied with a mutually beneficial, or at least only mildly parasitic relationship. It's all about the total destruction of everything a person holds dear, there is no way I can think of to make it benign. The best you could hope for is to target it at people who "deserve" it, but, then, how do you really judge that?
Hezekiah: i'm always so tired, i just need some rest
Me: aw same dude
Hezekiah: so,,, i murdered someone
Me: 👁👄👁
Helen is fascinating to me. Her point of view is so strange and inhuman, but somehow still makes sense in some ways. It certainly gives you something to think about if nothing else.
-Can't- No, actually, can _absolutely_ believe that the Burried invented the Weighted Blanket lmao
Uh... Ummm....
Like...
*DIG*
That's it. That's the episode.
DIG
DIG
DIG (i'm so glad someone else was magically transported to the land of Dig by another happy soul talking about digging :D)
today's episode was written by jonathan sims, *head archivist of the magnus inst-*
its just the archivist not head archivist
every. single. time.
@@nialls.9939 for three seasons it was "head archivist of the magnus institute," so when he says "audio recording by Jonathan Simms" me and the OP automatically think of that
Something hit after thinking about it for a while now. You can feel how terrified Jon still is of the entities as well as most of the avatars, yet he already thinks himself akin to them. So he gravitates towards Hellen/The Distortion, the way she came to him for comfort when she first started dealing with her new identity. They are the only ones who can really understand each other's plight, even though Hellen has already slipped away into insanity to a point she's a horrible influence on Jon. He just hasn't realized it yet.
Meanwhile, Martin remains surprisingly stable, albeit increasingly irritated when he's forced to deal with other people directly, taking it all in strides. He's even teaching Peter not to torture people on a whim and more or less treats The Eye of all things as Jon's weird new pet that sometimes hangs out at his place. The way he talked to the recorder in the beginning of the season kinda reminded of how someone would talk to their housemate's cat.
Well hey, Martin might slowly be withdrawing from everyone and everything to join the lonely and Daisy and Basira are hanging on by two separate threads while Jon is struggling with not being even remotely human any more, but as least he and Helen are having nice conversations now
Oof that part at the end got me. Gotta believe that my boi has the strength to not hurt people. If Love is what stops the lonely, compassion the slaughter ect, I wonder what emotion stops the eye? Acceptance?
Acceptance seems to stop the Buried, but it might work for the eye?
apathy i suppose?
Comments like this give me hope for the characters
Perhaps indifference? If you don't go through with your urge to know, I guess you couldn't get indoctrinated.
exhibitionism. can't be afraid of being watched if you're actively performing for it
I cannot believe that HELEN is the closest thing Jon has to a legitimate, non judgmental support system this season.
As much as I will happily welcome more twisty wife I am very worried for Jon’s mental state rn
Ive known Hezekiah for one episode would die for them.
Considering their statement, I think they'd be rather pleased.
if he has anything to do with it, you would!
Statement-giver: "And the wind could not reach me in the hole that I had made--"
Me: *hears the word 'hole'*
Me: DIG.
DIG
DIG
DIG
@@tiredcatman7381 DIG!
DIG
honestly as someone who honestly enjoys small spaces and such (I sleep in the closet because its the smallest room in the house) this statement hits close to home. another one to add to my "statements that I feel in my soul." collection. theres suprisingly many
Just out of general curiosity, any recent miraculous survivals or perhaps cataclismic events that could be seen as "spiritual death and rebirth"?
And if so, do you have some context, anything particular... anything to watch out for?
@@voidjockey82 Me asking people if derealizing is an early warning sign of psychosis.
me with manuela dominguez's statement. i've always thought astronomical science was super cool, and especially the dark or spooky side of that (i used to watch this one documentary of supermassive black holes on repeat as a little kid). the whole "darkness is the truest state of the universe" really rang with me, because it really is true
like
that's what it is by default
she put it better than i ever could, with the "light is a coat of paint on the wall that is darkness, remove the paint and you have the wall, but remove the wall and there's no paint" thing
and the stuff about dark matter/energy? yeah!! it's super spooky cool, it makes up the vast majority of everything and we have no real way to measure our observe it
i was born in the pacific northwest, where it's pretty much always overcast, and i have severe light sensitivity+migraines, so i feel full on _hatred_ of the sun and the sharp pain it gives me every time it isn't hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, or i'm not wearing my special sunglasses
i don't even have to look at it- it makes _everything_ way too bright, it hurts my fucked up weakass eyes
it hurts
_so fucking bad_
im pretty sure i'd be easy pickings
all the cult would have to do is say "hey, want everything to be dark and cozy? want to never have a light migraine or sunburn again?" and i'd be hooked
i mean... i very much like life, and plants, and being able to see at a base level, but that's not a lot against supernatural coaxing when it's up against how much i hate light
Hessichia my main man, you make an eternal dirt nap with no air sound like a dream.
Oh, that laugh...
The Buried always has this... cozy feeling. But at the same time you feel oh so close that I cannot breathe.
As someone named Nathaniel, I feel special
Congrats! Now *DIG*
(condescendingly - like a haughty funeral guest realizing they shouldn’t mock the deceased’s déclassé tastes in front of the mourners)
Helen acts more and more inhuman/ like the Spiral as Jon trusts/accepts her. Jon gets more and more compassionate and understanding the more inhuman he gets. This story is so deep, in the ways that our fear and trauma shape us and how we react to the world
Helen is the cool aunt we all need at the moment
*laughs in post-Season 5*
@@mimkyodar I mean in most of that season she feels like their wine aunt and besides she failed the "angry nerd vibe check" and got kicked out the party for backseat spookin
@@someoneawesome8717 Wow, she IS the cool wine aunt.
@@mimkyodarWine aunts turn into poisonously abusive alcoholics.
This is one of the best written episodes of the whole show. This and MAG126 "Sculptor's tool" are both so excellently crafted. I've listened to each of them so many times.
This is my third or fourth listen to tma and I just caught that Neil logorio who was a “spider/web touched” being was Gabriel from the sculpture tool old partner and that he was mentioned as being there when Michael became the distortion. I freaking love it!
yeah i love those! My personal fave is MAG085, 'upon the stair'. The way they write the nonexistence thing is really cool..
Honestly I feel the guy.
I never thought that I may connected somehow with the Buried.
Do you think that John can feed on the Archive's staff ? Or does the Eye already know their story and it wouldn't help.
Because they all have enough trauma to feed him. Daisy and Basira were sectioned, they must have tons of stories involving the Entities.
They wouldn't have nightmares so it could be a nice alternative.
considering the dreams disappeared for daisy when she started to work for the archives i think the eye is already feeding off them, and thus it wouldn't help john
It's kind of horrific, but I kind of like that the amount of humanity that the Avatars have is up to them and that many just choose to become less emotional to deal with their new "cravings" since most of them kill, maim, or traumatize other people.
Well....the Distortion clearly enjoys being Helen more than Michael. That's....curious.
transgender pog?
Helen was a normal victim with a normal progression. Michael was arranged to be implanted.
@@spawnofheck504 Aren't all fears technically trans, not really having a concept of gender and such
@@SkyP9812 eh. that's more Agender than transgender IMO (tho you could make an argumet for either)
Okay but actually that dirt nap is sound reeeeal good right about now
I know some people wanted Jon to ‘save’ Helen, but there are some avatars I think are happy enough being what they are. I wouldn’t shame a tiger for eating meat or enjoying a hunt. Michael/Helen was only unhappy when they had other things put into them. They seemed happy enough just being what they were, without the interference of ‘Michael/Helen.’
You're using the victim's names for the entity that is controlling them. Michael and Helen were puppets for the Distortion monster. The Distortion was happy without them, but both Michael and Helen did not want to be there.
Man’s just wanting some sleep, can’t blame him lol
I have to admit that at this stage I'm going to have to go back and relisten to the entire podcast because right now I'm just listening for the JonxMartin drama
Let my man SLEEP
I love Helen’s laugh!!
2:10 -- yoooo!!! 16th Power Revealed: The Randy Newman!!! "you've got a true friend me" His music is genuinely terrifying! Didn't know we'd be getting a new power so quickly.
Let's Gooooooo!!!!!!
I love this statement giver. He is just trying to take a dirt nap.
Edit: Holy shit Hezekiah
Edit 2: ya know what if we say *DIG DIG DIG* whenever someone says the word dig, like the nightvale fandom with the glow cloud
[INT. MAGNUS INSTITUTE, ARCHIVES, JOHN’S OFFICE]
[CLICK]
ARCHIVIST
Statement of Hezekiah Wakely, regarding his career as a gravedigger. Compiled from a series of letters to Nathaniel Beale between 1837 and 1839. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, the Archivist.
Statement begins.
ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)
August, 1837
I’ll thank you again for your endeavors on my behalf, Nathaniel. I’m sure you can always rely on having a true friend in me. I’ve been installed here some weeks now, and I’m finding myself well-contented, my sexton duties keeping my time employed such as I scarce have a chance to allow myself those dark thoughts that so concerned you when last we visited.
It’s a fine little church, and the Reverend is a good sort, though I’ll confess to finding his gospel readings tending towards the dull of a Sunday service. Not his fault, of course. The Lord gave him that voice for a purpose, no doubt - but sometimes that purpose does feel like it might be providing me a few minutes of unearned slumber. Still, his conduct towards me has never been less than compassion itself. Why, he told me not yesterday that he’d never seen the church shine like it had since I’ve taken over its maintenance.
“Shine?” I says. “Sir, that’s a rare compliment when it comes to cleaning sandstone.” And he laughed heartily, though the joke was of no great consequence. So you may rest easy knowing I am happy enough.
My troubled sleep, on the other hand, has not, of yet, resolved itself in any way to my satisfaction. I work myself to exhaustion, cleaning, polishing and looking after the church proper, and I tell you, when I lie abed I can scarce rise again for the weakness I leave myself in. And yet, sleep still eludes me. And when it does not, I wake as though my heart were trying to leap from my chest, and my throat were full of dust and ashes.
You need not despair, Nathaniel, I know the bottle will no longer help, and my other labors keep the nights from bothering me as once they did, but I do find myself longing for a true and proper sleep.
(pause) I tell a lie. There are some nights I find myself easily slipping to dreamless respite, though you’ll think me a morbid soul for it. Those days I spent digging graves in the churchyard - on those nights I sleep, if you’ll forgive the joke, the sleep of the dead.
I’ve never quite known a rest like it. Perhaps it is the harder, more physical aspect of the task, or perhaps the quiet rhythm of it. There’s no echo as there is in the church, just the sound of pick and shovel hitting dirt. And when it’s deep enough, when you stand at the bottom, the noise of the world just… fades away to nothing. It is the sort of quiet that makes you feel as though the commotion and hubbub of life were but a terrible dream, and in sleeping you were waking up to peace.
(heh) You’ll laugh, Nathaniel, but I almost wrote that I hope I have a chance to dig more graves. What a thought. No, I’d not wish that, for to dig graves one must have something to fill them, and the good Lord takes that at His own pace. You may satisfy yourself I am content with the position you have found for me, and spare no concern for my well-being or the receipt of your charity.
Your humble servant,
Hezekiah Wakely
February, 1838
Nathaniel, something has happened to me. And I felt it only right to send a letter and let you know of it, being as your last letter expressed such a kind curiosity towards my sleeplessness, and - what I mentioned to you in my earlier letters.
My nights have indeed been easier of late, something I may partially ascribe to the recent outbreak of fever in the town - taking more of my time for the grim business of grave digging - and the rest to my gradual settling into my position as sexton.
There is such peace in the churchyard, you see: to walk atop the soil knowing that, deep below my feet, those blessed souls wait happy and silent in the cool, damp earth, counting the days until the Resurrection. It gives me such warmth to think of that I have taken to spending much of my unoccupied time wandering the graves, and, where the mood allows me, taking my sleep there.
I hope such talk does not upset you, and you may rest assured I am no suicide. It is simply the serenity of the dead I envy, not their lifelessness. I seek no escape from the hardships of life, for since you gave me this position I can call little of my life any true hardship, and I am as free of suffering as I have ever been.
But I do long for that rest. I tell myself I wake each day renewed, but I am never as truly satisfied as when I’m in my slumber, and insensible to the world. Perhaps that’s what I hoped to find in my drinking, that gentle oblivion, but it seems like a world ago. I know what it truly is now, walking the churchyard - though you may rest assured I shall wait my turn like a dutiful servant until our Lord sees fit to call me.
I do find, however, that when I dig my graves, I have been going deeper. And at times, I worry I might dig so far as I can no longer get out with my meager ladder. Now, those moments - you must not cast judgment on me for this, Nathaniel, for it is simply a passing fancy - but I will often lie myself down on that soft earth, and I will sleep. And I swear to you that the sleep I find there is more blissful than any I have ever found.
It was there, not a week ago, that it happened. I was digging a grave for the squire’s father - a cruel and venal man, who I rather doubt has easy found himself in the kingdom of Heaven, but a pure soul is not what buys you a well-appointed cemetery plot, and he had plenty of money to do exactly that. I saw his body, you know, as it was being prepared, and I tell you truly that for all the wickedness that man had done, his body knew gentle repose. Though not as gentle, perhaps, as it might be with six feet of earth atop it.
So that was my task, and sure enough, I went about it with my usual fervent duty, such that the work of the day was done by the time the sun were at its height. It was cold that day, and bitter windy, and cracking the ground had been as hard as ice. At least until a few feet down. But by the end of it… oh, I tell you there was warmth in that grave. Whether by my own body or the heat of the soil, I couldn’t say, but it was as comfortable as the fireplace of a public house, and the wind could not reach me in the hole that I had made.
So, as is my late habit, I lay down. And I had no sooner done this than a powerful sleep overtook me.
I had a dream, then. I dreamt a rain had come. A terrible bitter rain that chilled my bones and turned the soil around me dark and sodden. The walls grew damp and slippery, their firm shape lost as they began to slip and crumble. And then all at once they collapsed, the grave filling in a moment with a wave of mud and wet dirt. In a single terrible moment of utter terror, it was atop and around me, covering my face and filling my lungs with its awful choking sod.
And the strangest thing was that it was wonderful. I had never felt such safety as within the crushing weight of earth all around me, the pressing embrace of the buried. In that instant I knew what it was to be dead, and I ached with envy for them.
When I awoke I was above ground again, amid the graves. The rain had been no dream, and I was cold and soaked through, wracked with a chill you may well discern from the quality of my hand. It was true, also, that the rain had caused the grave to collapse, though I must have left it shortly before that happened. I was in no state to address the issue, however, and in fact the Reverend had to ask the sexton from St. Mark’s to do so, as I am still laid up in bed with this cough. (heh) Perhaps I shall be joining the churchyard sooner than I dared hope.
Write me back soon, for I have precious little to do in this invalid’s bed, and sleep is far from me once again.
Your humble servant,
Hezekiah
June, 1838
I must first thank you for your visit, Nathaniel, although my recovery were well completed, it is always most heartening to see an old friend. I hope that the business that drew your way so abruptly were well completed, and that I may anticipate your company again after not too long.
I must tell you I’ve been in some distress these last few weeks, due in no small part of the agitation of the Reverend, who has, of late, succumbed to a very specific, though understandable, mania.
The circumstances and causes are easy enough to explain. It was the funeral of young Nellie Cooper that did it, which was a most upsetting affair. I’ll say I have much sympathy with his plight, as I had a chance to view the body myself, and if you’d asked me if I concurred with Doctor Grant’s judgments of death by drowning, I would have agreed without hesitation. She had that peace to her that I’ve spoken of to you before, and I knew how happy she must be to soon be returning to the earth.
But that day, as they carried the slim coffin down towards the hole that I had dug, and so recently enjoyed my own calm repose, there was a commotion among the pallbearers. Little Nellie’s coffin began shaking and rocking back and forth, such as they were unable to keep their footing and dropped it. The crash of the wooden casket hitting the earth is a sound I’ll not forget in a hurry, nor the shriek that came from inside the splintered wood as it burst open.
As you may well have surmised, Nellie was not, after all, dead, and had shaken off the stupor mere minutes before she was due to be placed below ground. She’s unharmed, at least in body, though I can scarce imagine the maddening strain must have put on her to see her own tombstone carved and waiting above the dark silence of her open grave.
To be honest, I suspect the worst effect is upon the Reverend. To be so near responsible for burying a person alive has shaken him deep, and he stopped all funeral services for a time.
To my mind there are far worse fates. But he has in his head an idea to begin fitting the graves I dig with these new “safety bells” that he has heard of, so that any as might be alive below ground might signal us above for rescue.
I dread the idea. If it had been me in that coffin, destined for the peace below ground, I can think of little that I would hate more than the jarring, clanging of a bell pulling me from my rest.
My dreams have been strange, of late.
Yours,
Hezekiah
December, 1838
I’ve been thinking, Nathaniel, of funerals and bodies. Souls that escape leaving this common clay to become one again with a truer clay. Were we not created from mud? And it seems more fitting to me that we should return forever to that mud, not pulled from it by some would-be Redeemer, or lifted to sing hosannas in his holy court.
I’ve worked so long, so hard. Do I not deserve a rest in the mud from which I came? Commit my body to the earth and let it stay there. I’d do the same for you. For worship of the Most High - though it may be earned, perhaps, by He that made the heavens and the earth - well, to my mind, all that prayer still sounds a lot like work.
Do you know what the Reverend said in his sermon the other day? He said that in the Kingdom to come there will be no need of sleep - that we shall never need to miss a moment of that bliss. But sleeping in the cool, soft dirt is all the bliss I could ever ask for.
I suppose the Lord would have no call to think such things a blessing. He was never buried, was he? Not truly. Laying in a cave for three days, a rock pushed across the entrance before being taken up bodily - no, He was never buried.
And He always had more work to do - harrowing hell and redeeming the sins of mankind. No, He had no rest, and never asked for it, save a moment of doubt at Gethsemane. But He is the son of God and we are merely sons of the dirt. We are not as strong as He is, and we deserve rest. We deserve to sleep.
I’ve been trying to sleep, but that bell kept ringing, the one over Jacob the baker’s grave. That nonsense safety valve the Reverend insisted on putting there, ringing and ringing, and disturbing the sleep of everyone in the churchyard. I’ve no doubt it disturbed Jacob as well, who worked so hard all his life and never thought to complain of his lot.
He deserved to rest. So I cut the cord. And now he is quiet.
I can’t get my clothes clean anymore. And my shovel is never far from my hand.
Yours,
Hezekiah
January, 1839
I am disappointed, Nathaniel, I’ll not deny it. More than that, I am hurt. My letters to you have always been a comfort to my soul, a place where I may lay my heart bare and tell the truths of what I think and feel without fear of judgment or reproach. That you chose to share what last I wrote you with the magistrates has wounded me sore.
They came and asked their questions, as I’m sure you hoped they would, but could of course prove nothing. Jacob is long dead, and I was very careful how I stopped the bell.
But such suspicions eat away at peace, and of course the Reverend dismissed me.
I’ve lost my churchyard, Nathaniel, and I wonder if I shall ever sleep again.
It was my own fault, of course - I should never have told you these things assuming you would understand. But how could you? You’ve never felt the close embrace of peaceful soil. You’ve never truly slept in the bosom of the earth. These things are not such as can be shared in words, and it was my foolishness to think that they could.
But worry not, Nathaniel. The love I bear you will not let me leave you ignorant. As I did with the Reverend, I will come and I will show you, once and forever, the true and glorious peace of the Buried.
Your most humble servant,
Hezekiah Wakeley
ARCHIVIST
Statement ends.
Nathaniel Beale is buried on the grounds of St. Peter’s Church in his hometown of Dunstable. And I am only the third person to know that in almost 200 years, after Nathaniel Beale himself, and Mr. Wakeley, the person who buried him.
I cannot tell how much of the change that comes over someone when they are taken by one of the Fears is a direct product of their influence, and how much is their own mind, desperately contorting itself to accept and justify the awful things they find themselves drawn to doing.
I have read many statements now by those who are changing, who are becoming - something else, and few if any of them seem… entirely rational. Entirely the people that they were before.
But how can I tell, I suppose. My job is to view people at their lowest, their most fearful and unstable moments. Perhaps there is less change there than I imagine. Certainly, I don’t feel different. I have no desire for pseudo-religious philosophizing, or delighting in the suffering of those I harm.
Then again, I suppose I’m hardly in the best position to judge. Perhaps to anyone listening to these tapes I sound remarkably similar to Hezekiah. Or to Manuela. Or to Jane.
[CLICK]
[CLICK]
[THERE IS A GENTLE DRIPPING SOUND. A DOOR OPENS, CREAKING LOUDLY, ONTO THE SOUND OF THE DISTORTION’S STATIC.]
HELEN
Hello, John. Been a while since you’ve been down here.
ARCHIVIST
(impatient noise) I didn’t come here to see you.
HELEN
Oh, come now! I’m sure I’m more interesting company than the late Jane Prentiss.
ARCHIVIST
It’s all that’s left of her now - apart from a jar of ashes in my desk. Just a circle of rotten stone on an otherwise-unremarkable wall.
HELEN
More of a legacy than some people get.
ARCHIVIST
There was going to be a gate, I think. A hole that she rotted into the Corruption itself. Maybe the start of a ritual?
HELEN
Hmm. Not exactly impressive, is it?
ARCHIVIST
Less complex, certainly… But I think that’s the thing about - what did Elias call it? - Filth. I don’t think it really plans much. It just starts to grow wherever it can get a foothold, and, if no one stamps it out in time… game over.
HELEN
How… clumsy. (heh)
(condescendingly - like a haughty funeral guest realizing they shouldn’t mock the deceased’s déclassé tastes in front of the mourners) Though, I suppose it has a certain charm.
ARCHIVIST
I’ve been wondering what they were doing down here. The worms must have been down here for - weeks, months maybe, spreading… growing. They could have spread all the way through these tunnels, but they didn’t. They didn’t find Leitner down here, didn’t find Getrude’s body, didn’t find… whatever else is here.
HELEN
It is a maze. One of the reasons I like it.
ARCHIVIST
Hmm.
I can’t See things properly here. I thought it was just me, something interfering with my connection to the Eye, but… I’m wondering: maybe it affects everything else? Like this place is some kind of - universal blind spot.
Everyone gets lost down here.
HELEN
What a fascinating idea.
(“delicately” hinting) Although - some of us are always lost, in a sense.
ARCHIVIST
Wait, are you saying you can navigate it?
HELEN
Not exactly, but my door has been part of these tunnels for some time now.
ARCHIVIST
Wh - (frustrated sputtering) - what’s it hiding, wh-what’s in the middle?
HELEN
(suppressed laughter) A delightful surprise…!
[HE SIGHS. SHE LAUGHS, OVERLAPPING HIM AND HERSELF, SEEMINGLY OUT OF SEVERAL THROATS AT ONCE, AND WITH A DRAINED, SLEEPY QUALITY TO IT WHEN SHE FINDS THAT SHE HAS LAUGHED TOO LONG, AND MUST STOP TO INHALE. HER LAUGHTER, IN SHORT, NOW SOUNDS EXACTLY LIKE MICHAEL’S. THE ARCHIVIST SIGHS AGAIN, RESIGNED TO HER.]
Ah… But that’s not why you’re here, is it?
ARCHIVIST
Yeah.
I’ve been thinking a lot about Jane. She was the first, you know. The first I actually encountered like… (tiny, resigned ‘heh’) like us.
She seemed so… inhuman. Like everything she used to be was stripped away.
HELEN
And now…?
ARCHIVIST
I wonder how much of her was still in there. How much did she choose to be what she was? I read her statement, she was… (inhale, exhale) she was scared.
I assumed she’d been possessed completely against her will, but now I’m not even sure that’s possible.
HELEN
(leading) It is astounding the sort of thing you’re willing to choose - given an unpleasant-enough alternative - isn’t it?
ARCHIVIST
How much of willpower is just - safety? “Comfort” by another name. The option to choose and be fine.
HELEN
Hungry, are we?
ARCHIVIST
(angrily) That’s not -
- I haven’t done anything -
HELEN
- yet.
ARCHIVIST
(roughly) I feel like if I don’t… I might die. Fade away into nothing.
HELEN
…
Do you… Know that?
ARCHIVIST
No. But I… (frustrated noise) I can’t die. They need me.
HELEN
Come on, John, no excuses.
[HE SIGHS AS SHE SPEAKS.]
They don’t need your protection.
ARCHIVIST
What, are you going to look after them?
HELEN
And how would I do that?
ARCHIVIST
You eat things as well.
HELEN
They have to open the door, Archivist. I can’t just push them in.
ARCHIVIST
Oh, you’ve got hands.
HELEN
Sharp enough to pull out worms, kill a few old men - maybe stab an overeager Archivist -
[HE SIGHS.]
- but my physicality is as much an illusion as everything else about me. Think of me as… a bear trap. Not a sword.
But we’re not talking about me, are we?
ARCHIVIST
…
When does it stop?
HELEN
(impatient) What?
ARCHIVIST
The guilt. The misery. All the others I’ve met, they’ve been - cold, cruel. They’ve enjoyed what they do. When does the Eye (inhale) make me monstrous?
[HELEN LAUGHS ONCE, THEN TWICE. THRICE.]
HELEN
What - why would it ever do that?
ARCHIVIST
I don’t…
HELEN
When has your guilt, or your sadness, or your hand-wringing ever actually stopped you from doing what it wants?
ARCHIVIST
(stammering) I-I - I have not been taking statements -
HELEN
You’ve sworn of other people’s trauma for now -
[HE CAN BE HEARD INHALING AS IF TO ARGUE AND THEN STOPPING HIMSELF AS SHE MOCKS HIM.]
- because you’re caught. Because continuing would endanger you. But other than that, when has your discomfort ever actually stopped you walking the path of the Beholding?
ARCHIVIST
I… I don’t know…
HELEN
Even if it were capable of doing so, what possible reason would the Eye have to change how you feel, when it makes no difference to your actions?
Helen was like you, at first.
[HE CAN BE HEARD INHALING UNHAPPILY IN THE BACKGROUND.]
She felt such guilt over taking people. Until one day she realized she wasn’t going to stop doing it. So she chose to stop feeling guilty.
ARCHIVIST
Fine. I get it. My feelings mean nothing to it.
HELEN
Mh, not true! They carry a certain flavor, a… seasoning.
ARCHIVIST
(sigh) (bitter laugh) I see.
HELEN
(chuckling) I am enjoying our time together.
Well, you know my advice already. Cheerio, John. Enjoy your brooding.
[DOOR SWINGS SHUT.]
ARCHIVIST
(frustrated noise)
[CLICK]
On one hand, Helen’s laugh is great, I love her gradual descent into the Spiral. On the other hand, it being similar to Michael’s makes me miss him so much 🥺 I can’t believe I got so attached to a literal herald of insanity who drags people to madness in the cruelest of ways and enjoys it too. But I do miss him :/
The spiral and the buried are probably my favourite entities, love how the writing becomes more dreamy and messy in the statements related to them. Also can definitely relate to wanting nothing but to sleep for a bit so both Fatigue and this episode hit me right on
this is one i come back to over and over. this episode is beyond incredible.
Wakely's the definition of "Would you still love me if I was a worm?" 😂 The murder's not cool but otherwise the dude seems chill, I don't blame him for wanting to sleep, laying on/in the ground can be pretty soothing
Hi Alex!
huh I wonder which entity this one's about
@Emily Barclay dang here I figured it was the burried
the web
obviously desolation
guys this statements OBVIOUSLY about the flesh,, who else??
I'm probably gonna get wooshed, but wasn't it obviously the vast?
The way my eyes snapped open when he said he cut the line
This guy decided to cut the cord and left some poor guy to die, only to surprised his friend disagreed with him.
HELEN! :D
When you think you have a true friend who'll help you hide the body...
Ok but I got chills hearing Helen’s voice. It’s changed so much, it sounds a lot like Michael now.
ayo why the buried so damn cozy tf
I've heard of taking a dirt nap, but c'mon man.
This ones gotta be my favorite ep
"Maybe stab an overeager archivist..."
And the descent to madness continues
When Helen appears, the only thing I can think of is that that could have been Michael 😭
Bitch stole my husband can’t have shit in the archives
@@malaizze all I wanted was door husbando and all i got was an insecure door waifu
Is this a hozier song
Bruh
Jon, you DESERVE that mockery from Helen. She once reached out to you, begged for help knowing you were in in a similar situation and YOU turned your back on her. I hope you squirm in your guilt.
But he didn’t know he could trust her?
@@ahli64 Of course he can trust her. She's only an aspect of the fear of disorientation, lies and being unable to trust your own senses.
@@mimkyodar *a certain indecisive mollusk* "can't you tell how trustworthy I am by my looks?"
s2 jon, with supernaturally enhanced paranoia making him feel he can't trust anyone, isolating him from his friends, fearing for his own life, and having met someone in a similar situation has immediately become attached and watched her get eaten by an evil supernatural door. when she later returns, she is now the evil door that ate her: i have a poor reaction to fear
op: death to the archivist for a million years!!!
@@nemnyoom bit overkill there, wouldn't you say? Me saying someone is deserving of mockery and taking that to mean 'death for a million years' is... like.... so much hyperbole, that it becomes impossible for anyone to take is serious.
I remember hearing about this its where we get the saying saved by the bell they attached a bell to there tombstone
Easily my favorite episode out of the whole series.
Okay. Anyone know if this one is Buried or End? There's a lot about graves, but all the talk about sleep and peace is quite Endy, and he works in a graveyard, surrounded by death and dirt. I think he might be the guy with the shovel in Underground, but I'm not sure.
It's funny how his penpal's name is Nathaniel.
NO WAY SMIRKE GOT IT RIGHT
Hezekiah my beloved. May he rest well.
*the children yearn for the grave*
My mom called Jon "the perpetual goober"
Way too relatable that man just wanted to sleep a rest an damn break from the endless soul draining cycle of capita- life. I more than understand and it doesn’t even bother me, same with train girl....but yeah the world of the Buried isn’t a restful sleep it’s unending torture...but I guess that unending sleep would be Extinction
Is.. Is that a Hozier quote?
such a mood
all this guy needs is a weighted blanket and he'll be set fr fr
Jon, you should have befriended Helen when she asked for help and now look!!!!!!!!!! 😡
Aww. He just wants a bit of sleep. He’s just eepy guys don’t be mean to him 🥺!
Yikes!
hehe, sexton
hehe
hehe
hehe
Hehe
hehe
The laugh,,,
i also miss michael. i like helen but also :c
Hezekiah Wakely - Lovecraft's Dunwich Horror
Pretty sure he's saying Whateley, which is Wilburs' last name.
@@skillganon606Jon is saying Wakely, but the reference is still true
He took a dirt nap lol
I am actually quite concerned that I noticed the patreons names where the same as last episode