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Good evening. I'm storyteller, oldest Jyre.

And I eat your grandfather. From where I'm from, you know, do-bit time stories.

And if that's what you were expecting, you're in the wrong place.

If its terrifying tales are after, well then, I've got just the thing.

It's comfortable, so early in. Turn off the lights, Mr. Dare.

Your night is about to get a whole lot darker.

Who needs sleep anyway?

My day.

Our first tale tonight comes from author John Grills in Title claustrophobia.

And don't remember anything about that morning.

You'd think I'd remember it all, but the more the time passes, the less the details hang around.

It's only only the stuff I try hard to forget that hangs around.

We stood there in the cool silence of the morning,

Terry and I on the edge of the cave opening. Our abel lines draped over the lip as they

had been countless times before and countless caves. All things considered, I still considered myself

a spulunker while Terry took pride in calling himself a cavever. What's the difference?

...