Dale T. Doll unearths a mournful mystery in Ep. 4: 'The Weeping Wall.' Hidden messages could Lucinda’s past be tied to what lies bey
Swamp Season Séance, Ep. 4: “The Weeping Wall”
as told by Dale T. Doll
Some people have accent walls.
We have a mournful, possibly cursed one.
It started with a smell. Not the usual Florida funk, mind you—this was different. A sickly-sweet scent, like antique perfume left in a flooded drawer. Barry blamed it on the mop water. I blamed it on Lucinda.
That wall—just left of the hallway, the one behind the umbrella stand Barry keeps “just in case” it ever rains up—started seeping.
Not leaking. Not dripping.
Weeping.
Long, slow trails of moisture formed patterns on the wallpaper. Not random either. These stains were deliberate, curling into loops, runes, and what looked suspiciously like a crude treasure map drawn in sadness.
I tried to ignore it. Really. I moved a bookshelf in front of it and told myself ghosts don’t mess with mass-market furniture. That lasted until 3 a.m. when a book I hadn’t touched in years flung itself across the room and hit me in the face. It was titled “Architectural Secrets of the Old South.”
Chapter 4?
“False Walls and Forgotten Rooms.”
Barry was no help. He claimed it was “just condensation,” because apparently the humidity here forms elaborate cartography now. But when the pattern started showing up on the bathroom mirror, spelling out "LOOK BEHIND", even he had to admit something was off.
Naturally, I did what any curious, responsible entity would do.
I waited until Barry left for the grocery store and pried the wallpaper up with a plastic butter knife.
And guess what?
There’s a door.
Not a new one. An old, narrow, badly sealed rectangle with no handle and a faint burn mark at its center. The wood looks… warped, like it got wet and remembered the pain. And carved into the frame, nearly invisible unless the light hits it just wrong: a single letter.
D.
Lucinda’s voice crackled again that night.
Only this time, she didn’t sound so mournful.
She sounded eager.
“The stains show the way, Master D. You see it now. You feel it breathing, don’t you? The door doesn’t open outward—it opens in. The house remembers. The room remembers. Open it, and everything will return. Even me…”
Needless to say, I’ve barricaded the hallway with a stack of VHS tapes, three potted plants, and a crucifix I made out of two sporks and a hot glue gun.
But I know it’s not over.
The wall is weeping.
And something on the other side is ready to dry its eyes.
Next Time in Episode 5: “The Locket and the Lies”
We find something behind a vent that rewrites Lucinda’s story—and maybe Dale’s, too.
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