Horror Stories to Fall Asleep To
Aug 29, 2026 · 1 hr 11 min · 10 segments
**About the Production:**This is a fictional story written, edited, and produced by a human. Because I’m a a terrible narrator, I use high quality AI Voice to bring these stories to life. **Support…
The Little Lantern Children's Museum had been closed for a year when its collections finally got parceled out.
Our museum ended up with a box of labeled rocks, some taxidermy songbirds that needed cleaning, and one sealed wooden case.
Ezra Crane handed me the case on a Thursday morning in the receiving court.
Victorian miniature house, he said.
His voice had that polished, slightly nasal tone he used for official transfers.
Little Lantern got it in 86.
Records are a mess, but the seal's good.
Chain of custody says we need a specialist assessment before we touch anything.
You get me? It was heavier than it looked, about the size of a large shoebox.
made of dark stained wood with a clear plexiglass lid, secured by two brass clasps.
Through the lid, I could see the house inside.
A detailed two-story model, maybe one-twelfth scale, with a peaked roof and tiny painted windows.
It looked old.
The kind of thing that would have sat in a parlor for a hundred years.
"'I'll catalog it,' I said." Good.
Take pictures before you open it.
Standard procedure.
The room was quiet.
Just the hum of the climate control system and the faint smell of ethanol and old paper.
I set the case on my work table under the bright examination lamps.
I took the photographs first, just like Ezra said.
Front, back, sides, a close-up of the seal on the clasp.
The house was finely made, intricate gingerbread trim along the eaves, tiny curtains in the downstairs windows.
The upstairs window on the left side was dark, just an empty black square.
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The Little Lantern Children's Museum had been closed for a year when its collections finally got parceled out.
Our museum ended up with a box of labeled rocks, some taxidermy songbirds that needed cleaning, and one sealed wooden case.
Ezra Crane handed me the case on a Thursday morning in the receiving court.
Victorian miniature house, he said.
His voice had that polished, slightly nasal tone he used for official transfers.
Little Lantern got it in 86.
Records are a mess, but the seal's good.
Chain of custody says we need a specialist assessment before we touch anything.
You get me? It was heavier than it looked, about the size of a large shoebox.
made of dark stained wood with a clear plexiglass lid, secured by two brass clasps.
Through the lid, I could see the house inside.
A detailed two-story model, maybe one-twelfth scale, with a peaked roof and tiny painted windows.
It looked old.
The kind of thing that would have sat in a parlor for a hundred years.
"'I'll catalog it,' I said." Good.
Take pictures before you open it.
Standard procedure.
The room was quiet.
Just the hum of the climate control system and the faint smell of ethanol and old paper.
I set the case on my work table under the bright examination lamps.
I took the photographs first, just like Ezra said.
Front, back, sides, a close-up of the seal on the clasp.
The house was finely made, intricate gingerbread trim along the eaves, tiny curtains in the downstairs windows.
The upstairs window on the left side was dark, just an empty black square.
