Greetings, my dearest creeps, connoisseurs of atmosphere, and candle-lit listeners —
it’s your friendly neighbourhood Tale Teller stepping softly through a creaking doorway tonight…because this episode...well...
This one comes straight from the dusty, shadowy vaults of old-time radio royalty.

We are diving into one of the great macabre institutions of the 1940s:

The famous creaking door opens…
and what slips through is a tale thick with guilt, paranoia, and deliciously human dread.

“The Death of Mr Putnam” is a classic slow-burn thriller:
no monsters, no fangs, no fireballs —
just people facing the echo of their own secrets
as fate taps its long, bony fingers against the window.

Expect:

• 🕯️ Whispered suspicions

• 🖤 A death that doesn’t add up

• 🔍 Guilt turning into something almost supernatural

• 🎙️ That iconic Inner Sanctum dark humour

• 🩸 And the creeping sense that someone in that room is lying

This one was a joy to remaster and narrate, and I hope it brings you the same delicious unease those early radio fans felt huddled around their sets in the 1940s.

Inner Sanctum’s “The Mysterious Death of Mr. Putnam” is classic old-school spooky fun — not with ghosts or ghouls, but with people being… well, people. The whole episode leans into awkward silences, weird vibes, and side-eyed tension as everyone tries a bit too hard to act normal after Mr. Putnam suddenly drops dead under circumstances that feel just slightly off. Putnam becomes this kind of “presence” even though he’s not there anymore — his absence tells you everything you need to know, and absolutely nothing at the same time.

Everyone around him feels twitchy, defensive, or oddly rehearsed, and the story slowly tightens around those reactions until guilt and paranoia start spilling out everywhere. It’s not about what lurks in the shadows — it’s about what people hope no one ever finds out.

And of course, it wouldn’t be Inner Sanctum without that creaking door and Raymond popping in with his trademark “I shouldn’t be laughing at this but I am” style of humour. The episode moves at a snappy pace, building the tension bit by bit, until the final reveal lands with that deliciously ironic, poetic justice the series was known for. Nothing flashy, nothing supernatural — just a good, tight psychological mystery about people cracking under pressure.

“The Mysterious Death of Mr. Putnam” is one of those stories that reminds you why Inner Sanctum still holds up today: it’s eerie, clever, character-driven, and proves that sometimes the scariest stuff is just the quiet truth people are trying way too hard to hide.

Thank you so much for listening legends!!! All the love and I really enjoyed remastering this one 🌞💜💜💜💜🌞

Two tales braided by one question: what happens when the things meant to protect us—skin and silence—start letting something else in?

😱Content Warnings: body horror (skin/teeth/eyes), psychological distress, invasive/possessive spaces, loss of agency; no graphic gore.

🔊SPECIAL SONG AT THE END | Hope you love it!

A bruise opens like a polite mouth on Mae’s ribs, asking for warmth, for quiet, for her. Doctors call it an artifact; it behaves like a door... Each night the hunger refines its manners until the only thing it wants is a hand to hold on the other side.

A body becomes a threshold, and care becomes consent—one fingertip at a time...

In a building where the lease forbids names after midnight, the walls begin to listen. The vents chew on stolen syllables, learning how to make a tongue. All it needs to own you is the sound you make when you say yourself.

Architecture grows a mouth; a tenant learns that silence is structural—and costly.

• Bodies & buildings as doors. Thresholds that remember the hands that open them.

• The price of comfort. When safety speaks in your voice, can you tell keeping from taking?

• Names as architecture. Some beams are load-bearing; remove one and the house learns to bite.

Excerpt — Quiet Hours:
“Who are you?” the duct asked, using everyone’s voices. She could have said nobody. She whispered her name instead, and the wall flexed—just enough to suggest muscle.

Excerpt — The Soft Place:
Her finger slipped through the bruise like water parting for a prayer. On the other side, something matched her shape and pressed back, grateful as a neighbor who’d been alone too long.

Thank you so much for supporting me legends, for supporting the podcast, and for listening! I hope these tales tonight really got under your skin....figuratively heheheh. 💜💜💜💜

Welcome back, my dearest creeps and connoisseurs of the uncanny — it’s your friendly neighbourhood Tale Teller, reporting live from the wrong side of a salt circle!

Our latest story, The Wellness Pit, is an outback horror about self-improvement gone feral.
It’s a tale of a small, sunburned town called Wattle’s Rest, where the road kills dry faster than the gossip, and a mobile wellness clinic rolls in with big smiles, bigger promises, and a very particular brand of body transformation.

...It’s wellness culture with a scalpel
....Self-care with a summoning circle
...A horror story wrapped in customer service and sold at an introductory price.

This isn’t a jump-scare story — this one builds.
Like heat under tin...
Like hunger under skin...

Chapter 1 — The Shed with Promises
A mysterious “Wellness Clinic” sets up shop in the red dust just outside Wattle’s Rest.
It’s shiny, sterile, and smells faintly of citrus and lies.
Locals wander in, curious. There are jars labelled Youth, Clarity, Ascend.
And out back? A shallow pit that steams… even when the night goes cold.

Chapter 2 — The Circle and the Mirror
Business is booming. People step inside and come out lighter — in more ways than one.
The clinic’s routines are half beauty treatment, half quiet ritual.
Salt rings, candles, a mirror that seems to breathe.
Everyone looks better.
No one looks quite right...

Chapter 3 — Bodies as Payment Plans
The town gets hooked. The transformations turn precise — too precise.
Skin reorganises. Faces perfect themselves.
People start sweating geometry...
It’s not gore — it’s worse. It’s order....

Wattle’s Rest becomes a community of the almost-perfect,
and perfection, as it turns out, has a terrifying appetite.

Beneath the dust and ritual, The Wellness Pit is a story about:

• Vanity and desperation — how far people will go to feel seen, wanted, “fixed.”

• Body horror and capitalism — when your own skin becomes the payment plan.

• Fame, filters, and decay — the worship of the self until nothing human’s left to adore.

• Small-town isolation — because when the world forgets you,
  you’ll welcome anything that promises to remember your name.

It’s a critique of society’s obsession with youth, money, and beauty —
told through the lens of outback horror and quiet apocalypse.

Just people… getting exactly what they paid for.....well.....maybe more...

From here, Wattle’s Rest is about to evolve.
The clinic’s reach extends, the mirror deepens, and the townsfolk begin to realize that perfection isn’t a destination — it’s a hunger.

What is heading our way:

• The rituals to grow bolder.

• The humour to get darker.

• And the mirror… to start watching back.

If you’ve enjoyed the slow burn of The Wellness Pit so far — thank you!
It’s one of those stories that crawls rather than runs, that takes its time peeling back the skin to show what’s underneath — both literally and metaphorically.

The horror’s just warming up, and trust me, the best (or worst) of it still hasn’t stepped into the light.

Stay strange, stay curious,
and for the love of everything sacred and symmetrical —
don’t stand too close to the mirror.

- The Tale Teller 🕯️