CreepCast - The Bearded Man In My Window | CreepCast

Episode Date: November 23, 2025

Live footage from Creep Aid Chicago, three stories are read by a couple up-and-coming authors. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

For Black Friday, you can get the Creepcast Beanie and the Who Up Creeping They Cast hoodie. These will only be available for Black Friday, so get them while you can before they're gone. And as always, thank you for the support. Thank you. Everybody prepare the tickets. Everybody prepare the tickets at the door! Thank you. Oh, unfortunately, I won't be on stage.

I love that. I love you. Oh, thank you, thank you. I appreciate it. All right, cheer again, I'm recording now. Oh, my God! Woo! Woo! Yeah!

Cut the song! If I could be a fairy queen, I would hold a magic key To reveal the deepest secrets of the mine When they see the goodness is blue The misery that's part of you And I'd weave a spell, take away your sorrow Fairy queen Fairy queen

Changing teardrops to a smile Holding daydreams for a while Fairy queen Okay, okay, cut the song Cut the, cut the, cut the, no Chicago! Hey, welcome back to Creakast. Thank you all so much for coming out tonight.

It's going to be amazing night. I'm sorry about the rain. We didn't do that, I promise. We appreciate you all, appreciate all the costumes. You guys have been fantastic. And not only thank you for coming out, but thank you for coming for a good reason. Because as mentioned before, all the proceeds from tonight,

proceeds from tonight's show go to charity. That's right. What are those two charities, Hunter? The ARP. The ARP. And St. Jude's Research Center.

Because fuck cancer! And also, Also, the ARP, which many of you all know, is the charity I started with some friends after Hurricane Helene. We've done a lot of good so far, helped a few dozen families rebuild their homes, but there's still a lot of work to do. And you guys have managed to help that tonight, so thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. And in addition to that, because as two YouTubers who work, be a little hypocritical if we didn't pitch in ourselves, so Hunter and I each are donating 25,000 to the other's charity.

But, in addition to that, we may be donating more. Because before we get into the stories tonight, we're going to play a little game. And that game is, are you smarter than an obese manchild? I don't think so. Here's how this game's going to work. I have a series of questions queued up about Creepcast, stories we've covered in events from the show, and Hunter's not going to get them right.

So what we're going to do is I'm going to pick three people from the audience to come up here. Hunter will get the question first, and when he inevitably gets it wrong. No. He will donate an extra $1,000 to the ARP, and then the question will go to one of the first question will go to one of you guys. If you all get it right, I donate another thousand to St.

Jews. So no pressure if you get it wrong, that's less money going to cancer. Just keep in mind. If that's on you. If somehow, by the grace of God, Hunter gets the question right the first time, I will donate $2,000 to St. Juice. So I need, let's get some lights on the audience. Yeah, can we get some lights? Okay. Let's do... I like... Girl in the Bride's dress.

We'll get her. Curly-haired guy with the blue nose. That one, and then you pick one. Yeah, you do it. You do it. I did it. section that section you get one from over there just pick one no let me see I'll take Brett Michaels hello hi hello hi nice to meet you again hello good luck buddy yeah if you all

would red how you do it good and then you as well nice to meet you nice to meet you. You all take a seat. Go ahead. All right. So as mentioned, Hunter gets the question first, right? No hints. No one shout anything out. Then the way we're going to do it with you guys is you're all facing forward. You don't look back at the screen. As soon as you know the question, raise your hand. He will get it wrong. When he gets it wrong, I'll pick whoever's hand I saw go up first. If you win, you get a point and we've got some stuff for you. So, All right. First question. What is the name of the cat in Pin-Pal?

All right. Hunter? The cat's name in Pin-Pow? Yep. That was a while ago. Fuck, I really... Ah! Five, four. Sprinkles!

All right. so that's $1,000. Would you like to guess? Boxes. That is correct. Boxes. Very nice. Excellent.

One point to her, zero to hunter, no pressure. All right. Question two. In what episode was the term bear trap coined? Man, there's stuff, too. Can I at least get a bear trap soundbite, please? Bipi Bitra. Thank you.

I'm going to say my best friend's ruining my life. No. Hold on. He got first. Go ahead. Take your guess. Dionea house? Correct. Wait, wait, wait. No, no, no, no. It's a close title. Hold on. She, to steal?

Is it an Azalea's cookhouse? Yes, that's it. I apologize. I heard Dio. And I'm like, that's close enough to Azalea. It was not. My bad. Two points for her, no pressure or anything. I will get one.

You're just the co-host of the show. Yeah. Yeah. Question three. The man who wishes to be eaten like a bug comes up naturally in what two episodes? Dionea house. and he's in two episodes

he's just in one no he's not no he's not tiny house and fucking the floppy episode the guy in the space I'm on this show

I promise I swear is that it no okay would anyone like to seal all right well I guess I don't have to give money away

Uh, the answer is, Dionea House. Oh, wait, sorry, there's a bonus to that. Because you didn't even get the first one, right? Okay, okay. Okay, Tiki Toby. Fuck, okay, Tiki Toby. Okay, hold on, hold on. Bonus, bonus.

We'll do it away with you. You can get the bonus. Bonus. What is his wife's name? The... In both stories, the wife has the same name, which is how it came up. Got to be Julia. Julia.

Anyone? See, thank you. It's okay. It's just kids who are sick. It's fine. Yeah, come on. Five. The answer was, Connie.

Beautiful name. That's what brought it up. Beautiful name. So, still two points to her. You've donated on every question. Oh. All right. Question four.

Question four. In what episode did? Hunter confessed to allegedly murdering a woman on a Japanese train. That is alleged. Allegedly. No one. I made these, so I'm like, well, if someone who watches the show, we'll get it, but not Hunter. Uh.

Wait, he's not going to get it. Go ahead. I can't remember the episode name, but it's the one where the guy is, like, frozen in time. You know what I'm talking about? No. That doesn't count? The subway. No, not the one about, if you've seen,

I'm at the Glenmont Metro shipping, it's not that one, not that one. I don't fucking. Someone shouted out. Barry's in the window, yes, yeah. You know what, just for that, I'll donate as if you were up here. We'll do that. Shit. All right, final question.

Question five. All right. Barry's in the window, yeah. Question five. Which author has been featured the most on the channel in other. words, the most individual episodes. Eli Witherow.

That's not even his name. Shit. Okay. Any guesses? It's close. Any guesses? Come on, Britton. Someone yell it. C.K. Walker.

I think everybody do that. Fuck sakes. Okay, C.K. Walker, yeah, there was a bonus question, but I'm not even going to ask it. Most questions, can you name all of them? But that's not happening. Anyone want to try, the five C.K. Walker episodes on the channel. I know you can't. No. Go ahead. Go ahead. Wait. She raised first. Go ahead. Okay. There's Verasca part one and two. Would part like five count as another one? Okay. Um, there's, uh, church, church in the woods, or deep woods, deep woods, deep woods.

No, they didn't. Not spire. Not spire. Yeah, now I'm forgetting it all the one. The one with the church in the woods. Oh, okay, hold on, Brett Michaels. Can you finish up? Do you have any more? Barasca one, barasca two, Deepwoods, Room 733 and Mayhem Mountain. Five different episodes. Five different episodes that showed up a different ones. Okay. So to my disappointment, that's the end of the questions. To my disappointment, the first place had two, got two right.

And that's our winner. So, winner to there, two. That's right. So I will give you, hold on, come here. How do I, how do we agree to do it? Well, yeah, I feel like neither of you two deserve anything. Give them all shirts. What the fuck?

hold on one of those here we'll do this you get you get these two there you go welcome you get this thank you all very much y'all can go back to your seats appreciate you thank you thank consolation y'all can head back to your seats

except for the clown guy you go ahead back right yeah break get the hell out of here I want this guy to stay up on stage I have a question for you considering your outfit what is this outfit What am I looking at? I'm a tramp clown. Tramp clown, interesting, very cool.

Is this a couple's costume you have? It just might be. It just might be. It's the other part of the couple here tonight? That she is. Can she come up here? Maybe she's a man. Come on up here!

I see her, she's coming up here, baby. Just so we can see the costume side by side of course. That's a nice, you need a, that's a nice clown costume. That's a good costume. Hello, nice to meet you. What's your name? My name's Bailey, and this belonged to a dead old lady clown. I have their portraits in my house.

That's excellent. Wow. That's incredible. Is there any, is there, I think I saw, was there something in your pocket? Is there like some bit to the costume or something? Good. Oh, I have a rat. Oh, actually, there's one more question in the game.

You got to answer your question. Here, you show everyone your thing. you're saying, well, I go to the next question. There's, yeah, sorry. I forgot about that. There's one last question. One second. Keep pulling it.

Go ahead. Keep pulling it. I think the question is. Congratulations. You kids get out of here. She's on the handkerchief. Isn't that beautiful, isn't that beautiful, isn't that just cute? Oh, God, I was sweating.

That had been hanging over my head. Like, could you imagine? Like, that'd be really funny a month from now, but right now, uh, all right. Congratulations to the young couple. All right, well, with that out of the way, I think we had a good warm up. Everyone should be in the building tonight. I think with that, let's get into some stories. Storytime.

Now, tonight we have three stories for you all, two of which are author, actually all three are authors that have never been featured on the channel. The third one is one that we had a recording of that's not up yet, and he's actually in the building tonight, but we'll get to that later. But, so all three authors tonight are brand new. And we're going to start a story called Ozzymandias. And this is from an author that's never been featured. before, but you all are probably familiar with. Up and comer. So I need to rant for a second.

So when we were deciding stories for this show, Harry kept telling me, why don't you get one of your stories, and Hunter will get one of his? And I'm like, oh, that's a cool idea. Yeah, because I used to write a lot. Some of you may remember this when I first started a Patreon for Windegoon, like a few months into the channel, I posted this. Like 12 people saw it. So I'm like, okay, cool, this is an old story. It's when I was younger.

We can kind of clown on it some. That'll be funny. And then we get to the show tonight, and I'm like, oh, Hunter, what did you write? And he goes, I didn't write a story. Found mine. And I go, Harry said, get our own stories. And Hunter goes, yeah, pick one. So I put mine in the slideshow.

And Hunter did not, so... That's cute. So, yeah, yeah, cute, whatever. So this is me, this is about me tonight, not about him. Also, since I summoned his name, the guy who makes the show possible, not only this tour, but the show itself, getting stories in line, getting copyright,

figured out, posting, reviewing videos, and all that, without him, it would make the show impossible. Can we give a round of applause for Herring? The show would not happen without it. How old were you when you wrote this? So I wrote this when I was 19, I think. 19, I think. You can tell I just watched Breaking Bad

because I titled it Ozzy Mandia. Which is far more edgy than the rest of the story is. And I haven't looked at this in a while, so this might be embarrassing. But again, I thought we were both sharing our stories. So, you know. But I'm dressed as Jeff the Killer.

What pride do I have? All right, with that out of the way, are you ready to begin? Let's get it. Let us begin. If you could, cue the music. Ozzymandius by me. Oh. Bear trap.

What is this slide? They made this... Bear Trap. Ooh, got you. That's a late bear trap for me not writing anything. Even on my story, I can't get away from you. That's right. Call your shots now.

What is this story about? What do you think the story's about? Title's Ozzymandias. Well, you said it was a Breaking Badden themed, but knowing you, it's going to be religious. Do what? It's going to have religious tones. Okay.

I think it's going to be about an old man. Okay. Hot or cold on that, take. Is there an old man in this? I'm not talking to you. Definitely a old, old man. And I like to think that he's going to find some kind of obelisk, dare I say, Lovecraftian.

And I think it's going to end with the old man. I think he's going to get take by a demon. All right. Well. We have... What do we do? You're dressed like a fairy. Hey, come on, man.

I look cute. My wife shoved lipstick on my face for 30 minutes before the show. All right. Not like that. All right. All right. Ozzy Mandeas. She kept pulling and pulling.

The fabric of the long-neglected blanket began to rip as her feeble hands began to shake. As the material, now unrecognizable, anything remotely hospitable. Tore in half, the embedded dust and rot seeped into the air. Her nose filled with the newfound stench, as in one last effort, she jerked away,

separating what she was holding from the rest. It's perfect timing. Wow. Usually this gets edited out by the sudden. Yeah. And now I'm thinking, like, I hope it's her notification.

off. We'll find out. As she fell backwards onto the pile of bins, none have ever sorted amongst newspapers, none have ever cared to read. She sobbed to herself. Not because of any injury. Not because of the hideous mound compiled of forgotten memories and leftovers.

Not even because this defeat was another in a series she would soon forget, but because she tore her Mickey Mouse blanket, her favorite one, of course. Of course. Of course. I'm Isaiah. I'm 19. Of course. There's a...

You have a Mickey Mouse blanket, don't you, dude? 19 years old, it's my most snugly, wiggly blanket. I don't know how I'm going to get you back for telling me to write a story for this and then making fun of him. I'll find a way somewhere. It didn't matter that this was one of her many favorite blankets and even one of her many favorite Mickey Mouse blankets.

Nor did it matter that she had just now discovered it beneath a hill that had been building for nearly eight years. In this moment, her blankets lost form was gut-wrenching and certainly worn to the grievance it received. Once her funeral was over, she cast the now useless piece of cloth atop the same pile that was buried beneath. Kathy was always thoughtful like that, and her empathy did not only belong with her wealth of soiled blankets. Whenever she wasn't home, she spent her time at church. Bez-a-pea-pea-P

Mickey Mouse Blanket. I'm 19, and I just got my driver's license. I better put it in the passenger seat. It's safer to drive that way. My lips are very large. Amen. That's funny to pray and just tell God, like, did you know my lips are big?

I love you, God. Small white steepled building was modest, just the way she liked it. Every Sunday, she would sit on the left aisle, third road back, about halfway down the pew next to Alice. Although it never occurred to Kathy that some may find it strange that her and Alice never spoke outside of church functions in the 40-year relationship, it wouldn't stop her from calling Alice her best friend. Whenever it wasn't Sunday service, Kathy would help at the church's food drive. She lived off her social security and barely at that between tides and birthday cards. Therefore, what she couldn't pay a donations, she made up for in labor, and a valiant labor it was.

The homeless would come to see her waning arthritic hands pour their potato soup as if God had to ordained them for such. When the winter months came, she began to feel the cold prick needles into her bony fingers. She never complained on account of those who came to see her and simply doubled up on mittens. She felt good about her role in the world, as she should. The fruits of her labor sat beside her every Sunday as those from the soup line made their way to the aisle next to her own. The pastor knew it was mostly because the church wouldn't give financial support to those who did not attend at least three services in a row, but the pastor felt that he would be quite literally and if he spoiled Kathy's optimism.

It is a little... It just reads like you're like role playing as an old woman. It is quite dramatic, isn't it? It's up at the purmage. I'm an old woman now. Yes, yeah. I'm Kathy.

Me 19, not starting YouTube. You're like, fuck, beat 19 is hard. What if I was like an old woman? Yeah, could I just please be an 83-year-old woman? I would love that. Amen. Amen. I love you, God.

Was that? I don't know what the hell that was. Was that a soundbite that said, I love you, God? I love you, God. I love you, God. You had that queued up. Got the shit queued up back there, all right.

Okay. Besides, it wasn't a lot. all in vain. One night during revival, Justin, who was once another junkie in the soup line, and now a deacon, stood up during testimony time and spoke of Kathy's reputation. I've seen her serve him with a smile on Christmas Eve, convinced him enough to get right with God. That Sunday, the pastor spoke on the widow's mind and had Kathy come to the front during altar call as the entire church prayed around her and thanked the Lord for her spirit. She cried and told everyone she was just thankful to get up every morning.

That was a good day for Kathy. Unbeknownst to those in attendance, Kathy was right, she certainly was thankful to get up every morning. Next to her bed was a meticulous pile of family heirlooms. Everything from old wall clocks to boxes of porcelain dolls whose original owners she couldn't remember, her morning routine was simple. She would wake up, grab her glasses, look to see if the precarious collection of goods near her had or was about to fall, carefully make her way out of the bed over to the floor of compiled boxes, and get to the open corner of the bathroom in which she would change out of her nightgown and start.

the day. Her routine mattered to her, even if she didn't know it. This level of normalcy helped justify her peculiar your hobby. Kathy had one problem, as the police would later attempt to understand, she cared too much. Every person, word, and item

were sacred to her. She embodied the spirit of charity and devotion in a way few others could. What are you laughing about? I mean, what is this? You're writing like a great day for an old woman. It's like, is this a horror story?

Is this just like, what is this? Do you think I just showed up to the show with like, and then Tathy went home to the kids? I mean, that would be a horror story. No, it's going somewhere. The mention of the precarious boxes. I jumped the gun, I'm sorry. Okay, did you hear the mention of like the boxes in the pile next to her? I jumped the gun.

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Thank you so much for Zop, for sponsoring this episode. Back to episode. Don't get too scared. This devotion, however, was to a fall. Every tin can and broken bowl held irreplaceable value. Walking across treacherous piles of glass and cardboard gave her sense of self-worth. Every item in this collection was personal. Her specific misplacement created a mosaic of stories and comfort. Kathy wasn't blind to her situation. She knew how others would surely feel about it, as she knew what her husband and son thought of her. It had been

decades since she had seen her son's father. Things used to be better. They were married in that humble, steepled building, and the house was fit for her couple of lovebirds. Of course, the floors and walls were visible back then. As her husband began to spend more hours at work, she began to find more collectibles here and there. This led her husband to stay away more, which led to her further in her collection until this hopeless dance ended with a note and an empty driveway. Kathy tried to confide in her son, but he had grown equally tired of her addiction. Every day, the kids at school would call his mom a hoarder, along with other slurs, on becoming of such a devout Christian.

look I was young and also I don't see what's so funny I just love how the son and the dad are like let's get the fuck out of here yes they did as a matter of fact

the words never bothered Kathy nor did the odd looks and whispers from neighbors However, it seemed that all the grief fell on her son. Then one day, not long after his 15th birthday, he was gone. She fought past the garbage bags, gathered around his room, and looked inside to see the idols, trophies, and photo albums she had accumulated and his floor cast down, and scattered with rage into one shapeless heap. Unlike his father, her son had not left a note, nor had any other indication of his

whereabouts, no doubt a symbol of his absolutism, indicated by the the disrespect for the belongings in his room. Kathy cried for him, then for broken things in his room, then him again. The one area untouched by her compulsion was Kathy's prayer closet, or as she called it, her war room.

Her fucking war room. That's awesome. I cannot tell you the number, growing up at church, it's the number of pastors that are like, we need more soldiers in the war room, what they meant was people praying. It's like a slogan.

Someone wooed over there. They understand what I'm talking. talking about the rules a modest space no more than four feet in any direction occupied by only a crucifix her good Bible and her Sunday dress the dress was as close to vanity as Kathy can manage one untouched artifact amongst a coliseum of ruined goods every Sunday she wore that dress and set in attendance to recognize what God knew no one there was better than her and either was she than anyone every morning she knelt in that war room and prayed for her son Sunday Dress, gently grazing against her head.

She prayed that the Lord would guide him and give him direction wherever he was, and that maybe he would find his daddy. She never prayed that her son would come back to her. God was a miracle worker. Some things are beyond reason. Did you laugh at Daddy? Yeah, kind of. She was an 80-year-old woman, or 70.

Oh. Oh. You're so gross. Oh, come on. Kathy. Okay, okay. Yeah. Still, she would wonder about him.

Some days, she would imagine he found a girl and smile at the thought of her grandkids. Other days, she would thank him a pastor and fantasized about the works he had done for the Lord. In her 17 years of imagination, not once did she ever consider his fate anything but spectacular. She was content to live this way, alone, king amongst her castles. However, unlike Alice and Justin, who saw her as a kind, righteous woman, and her neighbors believed her to be a decrepit hermit. The smell had become emanating from her house and the kids walking to the bus stop were the first victims.

Some horrid combination of mold and to-go boxes created a cocktail of awful. The kids began to tell stories of an evil witch that hides bodies in the basement and steals little children who missed the bus stop. Coincidentally, the corner by Kathy's house boasted the most successful bus route in the country. In the county, not country, close enough.

While innocent at first, stories become ruined, rumors and rumors become belief. The parents of the neighborhood began to talk about Kathy. Mothers did what mothers do and talked in circles about how something should be done and someone should do it. While fathers did what fathers do and walked by the house at least two times each, ready to brawl any beasts that were to approach them. Of course, all this strife could have been solved with a simple doork or church visit in order to see that the big bad wolf is something much closer to Little Red's grandma. However, that would take out all of the fun of a good game of gossip. Well, this was harmless for some time, if not rude, that all changed one Halloween.

Okay, here we go. Now we're here. All right. I'm right. Okay. Here it is. Dude, if Kathy doesn't like fucking eat a kid. And this is like literally like a warning for it's like every woman in here, your 70s is going to be horrifying. Again, what do you think this is? What do you think? Clearly, I had way too much, like, I was playing with the language and, like, being very flowery and stuff. I just love the idea of you 19 years old,

putting your mind in the head of a 70-year-old woman. It's like my favorite thing. You're like, oh, my God, I've never connected with anyone more. It's so good. Okay, what about it? It's sick. I'm stoked. Anytime he tells me it's sick, it means it's not.

it's good that all changed one Halloween it was true what the fuck is that that's like a Scooby-Doo like oh I see thanks Harry it was tradition for Kathy to sit at her front porch

and hand out king-size Hershey bars to the approaching children however this year the smell had grown so rancid that even Kathy's generous offering was not enough to get kids to enter her front yard And so she sat there alone with her chocolate. See, now they say, aw, no, it's sweet.

Yeah, now you care. Yeah. It would be, dude, does she use a, what is it, a panic button? Or like, I've fallen, I can't get up. A life alert. A life alert, yeah, yeah. Oh. That falls on the steps.

Someone grab my chocolate. It smells funky, but I swear it's good. Every story we read, you have something against old women. There's always like some bits. It's a long story. Okay, all right. One of the boys ran home and told his mother that they had seen Amy Crabgrass get dragged into the stinky house by the creepy old witch. Of course, Kathy did not kidnap Amy Crabgrass.

Or did this child even know Amy Crabgrass? But it was Halloween and perhaps one too many urban legends led this mother to believe her mischievous son, devil costume and all. The police arrived at Kathy's house and quickly realized that she had, in no way, hurt Amy Crabgrass or any other kid for that matter. However, they realized the smell first. They told Kathy that they were going to call the health department, to which Kathy protested with all the fury of a 78-year-old Baptist widow. Nevertheless, the officer's minds were made up, and after weeks of notices filling her unchecked mailbox, the health department arrived at Kathy's doorstep. She made no preparations for their visit. Nor did she expect to make any changes after their departure.

She simply stood in the front lawn as the men did their job. That was, until she was told that they would be throwing things away or else Kathy would lose her home. She was devastated. The information almost too much to process. Men in PPE walked to and from her home carrying boxes that meant nothing to them with a weight that was too little. For the first time that she could remember,

Kathy felt something close to anger. She washed his uniforms, hauled out picture, frames they would never know the placement of, dolls of which they would never know the name. Clothes that could be worn given a slight wash, empty boxes that could make for excellent storage and gifts that each carried a story. Kathy fought back in the best way she knew how, the prayer and kind words. Clean-up leader, while polite, was absolute in his decision. Words like mold and hazard meant nothing to Kathy, at least not at the expense of her hoard. Just as she began another round of niceties, the man received a call on his radio that made him take off inside.

There's a commotion of odd looks and whispers around Kathy until a police cruiser showed up. After the officer stepped inside, there was about six minutes of anticipation as the air filled with silence. Then the combined crew stepped out. There, under a sheet, the arms of the cleanup leader, was the skeleton of a young boy, no older than 15. There it is. What? Is that wrong? It's not done. He laid down.

He didn't wake up. I'm just spitballed my own dialogue. Okay. I'm glad. I'm sorry I didn't give you enough lines when I was 19, so now you're upset. Okay. All right. From out of the pile, long untouched, through a hallway now cleared.

The team followed behind, a funeral procession. The body was something closer to a mummy than a corpse. What was once skin and flesh had become a dried paper gently laid across bones. Any resemblance to the child before was gone and replaced with utter stillness. This information was beyond Kathy's comprehension. Years of prayer now meant nothing, and nearly two decades of hope it turned up worthless. Her mind ran, far away from this new truth, the notion of what his final hours must have been like beneath an avalanche of her own design. Her mind found another problem, one awful yet digestible.

She looked at the empty body for some time and then glanced up at the man holding it. Through her denial, she spoke. Her voice was shaky yet desperate. Can I keep my dress? And that's it. That's the end of the story. Thank you, thank you, very kind. man I was really hoping that she just started like kidnapping kids and she's like you gotta come in here no sadly her son just died

I'm sorry that's not enough for you well yeah revisited it after all these years for one I was hearing the dialogue I'm like yeah that's about right to the kid that listened to my chemical romance constantly and thank you I figured this audience would like that but no I don't sometimes I'll look back on stuff I wrote and I'm like I hate that what was wrong about I didn't hate that No.

It's fine enough. I'm glad I wasn't a tire of super. I'm glad you all enjoyed it. I'm sorry I didn't give you enough lines. You being 19 and then capturing the essence

of an old woman beautifully is art. It is nothing but art. I love to that 19. You're like, I just, I love that you got there. A lot of people at 19, they'd be like,

they were old. They were 36. Can you imagine that? I think, if I remember right, there was a story in the news about a woman who thought her son had run away, and then when they cleaned out her house after she died, they found

his body. Yeah, like a hoarder. And it was like at first they thought it was foul play, but then they're like, well, honestly, they were such a horde. He may have just died in there, and she never noticed. Yeah, she just never knows. So I'm like, oh, and that's where the story came from. Yeah, that's cool. So it's theft, it's stealing something that happened. You know, so it's all set, let's go.

The story I found has similar things. So I have no idea what this story of yours is going to... My story... Oh, sorry, the end, yeah. The end. There's like. Oops. My story...

Wait, okay. All right. You want to... I keep accidentally... No, you can put the title. Okay, all right, the title. The title is, my best friend is the bearded man in my window. The best part of this is I have no idea who wrote it.

Redacted. The name was redacted, or you just forgot to look? No, no, no. They deleted their Reddit. They deleted their Reddit. Okay. All right. So you really have no idea who wrote it?

No idea. Okay. This is the only story. I want to be crazy about like, it's a mean. Yeah, wait, what? Oh, what? There's just, there's, uh, I read a little bit of it. I, really, haven't read it yet?

Not all of it. I wanted to be surprised with you. I thought it'd be nice. We're palling around. I'm like, I don't know what's going on next. Historically. Us, blind-guessing stories. If we go into uncharted territory, you have me...

There's like fucking 12 people dressed up like Tommy Taffy here. Yeah, in the front row. Which, where were all of you when everyone was mad at us in the comments? Yeah, damn. Well, I mean, I think you're going to think this. And I will say, there's a lot of lines for me to read, so I'm stoked. Okay. Before the show, I'm going to, before the show, we were doing sound checks and they were running through the sound effects, and there was one of a baby crying.

And I go, Hunter, is that your story? And he goes, yeah. And now he just told me he hasn't finished the story. And there's a baby here, a baby there. Let's see what happens. Let's just dive in. We dive in. I have nothing to do with this.

Neither do I. if I kill a kid in a story they're 15, okay? We've proven that, it's fine. All right. All right. By redacted. Oh, it does say redacted. Okay, okay. Let's begin. Let's do it.

Oh, that's a cute animation. Is that horses? That's good. Okay. Dear Lord, please give me a friend. Who was that impression of? I don't know. Amen. A hopeless prayer on a late October night. A thick fog rolled between the trees next to my house, churning, covering every bit of wooded ground.

My mind was racing. I tended to psych myself out too much, making little things to be more than the They really are a habit that has become exhausting. I felt like I could hear the faint crying of a baby. I'd honor. Little baby, is that you? I don't. Maybe it's just, okay.

Bones breaking with every well. I heard the bone-breaking one, too, and he goes, wouldn't it be funny if those two were together? It'd be was funny. It was good. You've started a story. You're like, baby, bones break. I'm in.

I don't even need to read the rest of you guys. I mean, am I wrong? I see a lot of quotation marks. We're good. Yeah. Okay. Bones breaking with every whale, filling the hollow forest with a haunting song that feels distinctly met for me.

I kept looking out my way. window, hearing these horrible cries, snapping again. They were interrupted by my mom. It's getting late, sweetheart. Get ready for bed, okay? Do you hear that crying? I asked my mom, wide-eyed, looking for her comforting response for the millionth time. She cracked an all-too-familiar smile. Shia, we've been over this a thousand times. It's just coyotes, foxes, just our woodland friends out in the woods playing, breaking branches and twigs. You've got nothing like that.

You've got nothing to be afraid of, sweetheart. Now would you get some sleep? I let down my guard. My mother's setting me at ease, like she always did. Okay, good night, mommy. she smiled and softly shut the door behind her as she left a high-pitched wine came against the window as a bitter biting wind collapsed against the house crowding the window seal as i went to shut the window i looked down into the forest bored ears stood looking up at me not moving not grazing just looking directly at me in the deafening quiet i could still hear the baby crying i could hear it Sinless cries echoing through the forest.

I heard the bones snapping every three seconds. You gotta keep reading. That's a sound effect. That's your department. No, no, no. You're supposed to read it for effect. Snap. wail snap wail

the deer had me though something compelled me to stay and look back at them I was simply transfixed it's as if we were conversing not sharing words but understanding each other's thoughts we held this exchange for a minute before the deer turn their heads in unison, move deeper into the sheer blackness of the forest. The hypnotic gaze broke, my sense returned.

Rushing to my bed, I threw back the blankets and covered them over my head. Why were those deer looking at me? Why did they just stop out of nowhere to make sure and look up at my window? No, don't do this. Don't make something out of nothing. It'll just scare yourself again. This is why people don't talk to you at school. This is why...

this is why you freeze are you sure you didn't write this no because so far it's been like yeah i'm in bed and then my mom comes in she's like hi and then i hear a baby crying the bone snapping then a baby crying and bones it's like i mean it's awesome this is why you freeze anytime someone looks in your general direction this is why you always get picked on you make yourself an easy target. My thoughts, sober any fear that I may have conjured and, comfortable pity, dug deeper into my bed and wrapped the blankets tighter, finally able to calm myself down. Still, I can't shake the feeling that something out there in the woods was crying for me, it's somewhere in that cold, vicious fog. The next day at school, I had a newfound confidence to try and went over

the bullies at my school. The Williams brothers, Jackie and Robbie. Jackie Williams? I'm such an awful person. I was thinking that's the baseball player. That's Roberts. He was an old baseball player. You see, I had to do research for my role. Twins that were the size of mountains for us regular 15-year-olds. They used their size to enact all kinds of terror on our classmates.

I'd always been afraid of them, but today I would stand up for myself. I would show them that I am not one of the dorks at school. This is such a story you would write. Why? The Williams, just the, you love, like, the 80s movies where it's like, yeah, and then the bullies got ran over and, like, a monster killed. It's a popular trope, yeah. I know.

Am I wrong? Could you read? Yeah. The Williams brothers were on a special tirade today. Carry around a dead blue chan, won him. dead blue jay in one hand and asking classmates to kiss the bird in order to attend their Halloween party what the fuck that is a party only the coolest of kids got to go to at our school i don't think the cool kids are going to a party you have to kiss a dead bird that's the hunter level where like

the weird kids were kissing dead things you're like man i wish i was one of the cool kids can i be your friend please man they're so cool they keep dead animals in their bag I wish I had a dead bird and this was a chance for us lesser beings to be invited to the table chance for me to show that I could be one of their kind that's awesome

just the idea of a jock in like a movie being like here's a dead bird like kiss it step up step up anyone who kisses this beautiful bird will be invited to our Halloween party Friday night. No, don't give him that.

No, don't give him ooves. He doesn't know, no, I am. Said Jackie, with a contorted smile, his chubby cheeks inflated the freckles on his pale face, a red curly mane on top of his egg-shaped head. Yeah, the cool kids. He's a cool kid. Kiss the bird.

Kiss the bird, he, yeah, yeah, hey. Parroted, his brother Robbie, who didn't speak much for himself, a carbon copy of his brother in every way. The bird was disgusting. One of its eyes had popped out of its body, hanging limply. It looks soft like a rotten. Someone went aw, like, oh, I was all down for the dead bird until I found it was, like, really dead.

It looks soft like a rotten potato being squished in the ogre's hand. I was repulsed and was already thinking of how the bird would come back to life and pick at my face, flapping its wet, tattered wings in a panic, squawking with the demonic tones and it shivers down my spine. No. It's a dead bird. Don't freak yourself out. Just be cool.

Uh, I'll kiss the bird. You're sure you're not impersonated anyone specifically? No! Okay. No. I said louder than I intended, trailing off at the end. The hallway came to a hush. The brothers turned to me, mouth stretching slowly into an evil smile.

Shia? The scurdy cat wants to kiss our bird? I must be dreaming. Jackie said in a loud boistery stone, gesturing to the crowd that they gathered around us. Yeah. We must be dreaming. Yeah.

Parrot at his brother. It describes them like they're in the mafia. Yeah. Like there's a pit stripe one and another one in the suit. Like, yeah. Yeah. I stepped forward to the brothers who outstretched the disgusting bird in front of my face. Its wings spayed out openly.

Trying to play it cool, holding back every notion I had to be squeamish and make a scene. I killed it this morning. About 50 of them were flying by my house and I was able to shoot one out of the sky with my dad's gun. You know, I figured out what it is, why you picked this when I think you would write it. This sounds like a story you would just tell me about your childhood.

Ah, ha, ha, ha. That's cute. Don't give me that tone. Just like the, like, yeah, one time I was in high school and, like, a shot, a bird with my dad's, Gun, and I made all my friends kiss it. Yeah, we called it Kissy Time. I didn't like that. Okay. Yeah.

Jackie Bart triumphantly. Looking around as if that was to impress the other students. Dad, Daddy's Gun. Yeah. Robbie apishly muttered. Aepishly. Apeishly mutter. I closed my eyes and pursed my lips, moving slowly, trying to quickly make contact with

the bird's beak so I could be done and attend this party. I could see it, starting my new life, not lonely, more friends than I would know what to do with. My wife's here by the... the way, so don't, yeah. That was for her, is what I'm saying. This fantasy was cut short. When I opened my eyes and Jackie had turned the bird,

I had kissed its ass. The crowd of kids laughed hysterically. I quickly wiped my face, but the damage had been done. The brothers cackled, and the orchestral laughter filled the halls, echoing and coming back. all around me, louder. I tried to play it cool, slowly smiling, then joining in with the laughter,

trying to reclaim any dignity that I had before kissing a dead bird's ass. So, what time's the party? I said trying to act smooth. The party? You think we would let you come to our party. Jackie blurted out, accompanied by his brother. No way, Jose.

the crowd erupted in laughter again I felt myself deflating with each passing second before a voice cut through the crowd would you guys cut it out it was Sarah Martin she was one of the few people in school who was ever nice to me admittedly and not surprisingly she was my crush Sarah Sarah from spire in the woods I have learned to not get too and through

I'm enthusiastic about what I think is a wholesome, like, teen romance story. Yeah, true. I'm not saying anything. I'm not reacting. That's fair. They dragged us through the trenches on that one. We were drunk. Fittingly, I'm not arguing it's not.

So, yeah, you can move Sarah Martin all you want. I'm saying out of this. The brother's laughter faded quickly. Oh, hey, Sarah. We were just messing around. Jackie said sheepishly. Yeah, just joking. muttered Robbie.

It's just like snapping in the leather jacket. Come on, Sarah. Sarah rolled her eyes at the brothers and turned her attention towards me. Are you okay? Sarah said sweetly, brown hair splashed against her slender shoulders. Dental stars of freckles

daughtered her cheeks and nose. Picked myself up, acting like nothing had happened, trying to play it cool. Who, me? Oh yeah, I'm totally fine I meant to kiss the bird like that So that's it was all intentional

Smooth Okay, well The party's this Friday at 8 p.m. So please come by, it should be fun Sarah said turning to the Williams brothers Right guys Others just nodded their heads in agreement Confused

See you then Sarah said softly before throwing her hair confidently and turning to walk off down the hall. The brother frowned at me and followed her as she left. You said you haven't read this whole story, right? Yeah. So my bear trap, or my prediction, but I hope it comes to a bear trap, is like she is going, it's like a ritual or something. He's going to want him killed. She wants him to be there, so she can kill him or something like that.

I love a nice ritual killing. Like she's a witch or something like that. I mean, I would love that. Yeah. Yeah. This would be the moment. I have not gotten this for you. Okay.

So just let you know. This is all new for you? Yes, everything now. I chose his story probably after like the first page. I was so in. This is great creepcast fodder. You didn't, you have no idea. No, that's not a good thing.

Come on! You have no idea what happens out of the high. high school party. No idea. Okay. Sorry. I don't know. I didn't do.

I didn't have anything to do wherever this goes. He didn't know. I have nothing to do with this. I see, when I said the witch thing, my brain was like, make a Jacoby joke. No, because I've learned my lesson,

especially when you pick stories. I had done it. I had been invited to my first party. It's been invited to my first party. I got invited to stuff. I just had to kiss a dead bird. Walking home from the bus stop, I felt on top of the wall.

world. I had so many ideas. I had so many ideas for my costume for the Halloween party. Okay, I was going to quit the voice, but I, thinking through the rolodex of characters from stories I loved online. Would I, me dress like this, would I be a demented serial killer? A ghostly apparition? Or maybe just a pirate? I don't want to bring myself out to much. This kid rules. This kid fucks, dude. Yeah.

No, he doesn't, clearly. Come on, man. I was too. Hunter actually wrote this about his childhood, and he's over here like, this kid's cool, right? This kid's actually pretty badass, actually. Yeah. I keep touching my face to scratch it,

and I'm smearing paint all over my laptop. I was still thinking of my costume when I heard a baby crying. Oh, I forgot about that. When I heard a baby crying from somewhere, the dense trees to my right. Loud, shrill wails, unmistakable. This wasn't a trick of the mind. My breath held waiting for each horrible, long well to fill the empty road air. I wanted to turn and run away, but what kind of person would I be,

knowing that a child was out in the woods crying and I didn't help? Did the only thing that seemed right? followed the cries into the forest. It's going to go well for him, I'm sure. As I walked deeper into the woods, I could notice how much darker the woods were than the open road. The tall tree is shrouded the pale sun above, bailing everything in a blanket of shadow.

The baby's cries were still flooding the woods, but as I moved further through the dense brambles and brush, took a new shape. Strange, awful mixture of sounds. A youthful cry intermixed with the cries of a man? What in God's What in God's name was happening in these woods? It's just my mind playing tricks on me.

again it had to be no I had to check against my better judgment I pushed on forces myself along on legs that felt rail thin and shaky moving further into the trees why

why was his Reddit account deleted oh shit all right to be fair there is a baby and a man in the woods alone so I have idea. Was this

no sleep? Yeah. Was this tagged with anything? I don't remember. I don't think so. I'm sorry. I barely remember our episodes to record.

I'm expected to remember that. I don't fucking know. On my right, a collection of deer rush past. Jumping and contorting themselves as they must. moved. Other woodland critters dashed by, flying and jumping ahead of me towards the growing noise. I crossed over a mound. My feet stopped. Stunned and tear. In front of me,

saw where the horrible noise was coming from. On the forest floor, twisted mass of vines and blood seeped through the grass and roots, spilling into the soil. The upper half of a man split open leaned against the base of a thick tree trunk. Oh, thank God. The man had grabbed onto mounds of grass and roots and was screaming in agony. An infant, still crying, crawled forward, inching its way into the open cavity of the man. Twisting strings of muscle and tendons, clawed out, latching onto the baby's hands and head, slowly dragging it into the open cavity of the man's chest. Sick.

A deer walked up, using its long antlers to nudge the child deeper into the open cavity. as both the baby and man began to scream in pain as the organs and entrails were pushed deeper into the open maw the baby screams were muffled into a putrid suffocating gurgle Hell yeah

Jerry Jerry Jerry Jerry Jerry Jerry? Jerry Springer did what the fuck he's talking about Horrified, I began to back away slowly, trying to not make my presence known, until the twig under my heel snapped, and the forest immediately went deadly silent. The animals all slowly turned to look at me.

With the jagged motion, the half-man slowly contorted his neck, looking up at me. Her eyes met, trembling, smiled across his face. Screw this. Without hesitating, I see. spun and dead sprinted in the opposite direction, trying to put as much distance between myself and the broken torso of the smiling man as possible. I could hear the animals closing in on me, but I was too scared to look back. I just kept running as fast as I could, jumping over roots and diving under branches, clawing my back up, never stopping for a moment. The hordes of hooves

and wings flapping grew thunderous behind me. The shriek of deer, thousands of birds squawking just behind me. Keep pushing, just keep pushing. Finally, I met with fresh air. I had made it back to the road. I whipped around to see the onslaught of animals that I was sure was just behind me, but there was nothing, nothing at all. I swung open the front door to my house, slamming it immediately shut behind me, bolting it. Whoa, what's going on here? Is everything okay? My father said, propped up at the dinner table, searching me. Dad, I saw something in the woods. It was like a baby crawling into a half man.

They were screaming. And the animals in the woods were watching and helping it. Shire, what did I tell you about reading those damn horror stories? So it's Hank Hill. It's Hank Hill. that it's Hank Hill I'll tell you what Bobby My father said

Pitching the bridge of his nose And dropping his gaze for a moment We're looking up at me again disappointed You get so worked up That you send yourself into these bits A baby crawling into a half man Listen to yourself

My father My father said concerned What's wrong Said my mother coming down the hall her feet tapping quickly against the hardwood. There was a baby in the woods and this man who was split in half. He's been reading those scary stories

and getting himself into a frenzy again. My father said, turning to face of my mother as she came into the room, turned lighting her face. I thought we agreed we weren't supposed to be on those damn sights anymore.

Sweetie, why don't you go to your room and wash up for dinner, okay? My mother said softly. I knew her. This was her gentle way of telling me that I was creeping them out again. I needed to relax. It's funny how much I said the story was you, and this was actually me.

Admittedly, I remember multiple conversations where my dad's like, you've got to quit scaring yourself. So hard. I remember reading the Russian sleep experiment, my dad getting furious. He, like, Googled it, and there was a picture of like a dead guy or whatever, and he was like, what is this? What are you looking at? No, Isaiah, what the hell?

are you doing? Yeah. Yeah, who's laughing now, dad? Defeated, I say covered in face pain. Defeated, I drudged upstairs to my room. I felt so stupid. Did I really just imagine all of this? It's so strange.

It felt so real. In my head, I could still hear the animals just behind me. Hooves beating against soil. distant howls and screeches, pulling closer, hot breath on my neck. After saying it out loud to my father, it was easier to see how ridiculous it all sounded. And even the walk up to my own room had me almost laughing at how absurd this whole situation was. God, I need to be medicated. Yeah.

I muttered to myself, shaking my head as I climb the stairs. It's funny about how old is he 50? yeah a 15 year old i need to be medicated god give me a pill i got to my room took off my jacket took a seat on my bed and rubbed my hands against my face chuckling softly man man i'm a mess at least i had the party to look forward to i needed to at least to at least try and find a bit of normalcy before then he's so okay with a baby crawling and side of a man and all that i couldn't go there so flustered i had to make friends this was my only chance maybe it was good that i got this hallucination out of the way now and not at the party right

maybe this was all blessing and disguise tap tap what was that tap tap i looked at my door thinking that maybe my mom had fallen followed me up and was checking on me. There was no one at the door. Turned back following the sound. There was a gaunt, bearded man looking at me from my window, smiling.

Up until this moment, I forgot about the title. Tap, tap. I don't think I had ever screamed as loud as I did just then. The man's teeth looked soft, like they were pushing against each other, folding and shifting into place. His hair was

patchy and thin soft like they were pushing each other stop the fuck are you guys wooing about just a vague description of a man yeah exactly exactly his hair was patchy and thin laying flatly against his balding head his eyes

wow His eyes were yellow, a gross, sickly color, hollow and unmoving. His skin was papery thin, burnt reddish pink. Tap tap. The door to my room flung open, colliding against the walls as my mother and father rushed in. What's wrong? I looked at them, trying to find words in my panic. At a loss, I looked back to my window.

No one was there. and I had nothing. Frustrated, my father let out a deep sigh and stormed off. My mother looked at me and then raised her hand as if to comfort me. I just lowered it back down and sort of defeat. She slowly and calmly shut the door behind her as she left. Feeling terrified and alone, I looked back in my window, searching the infinite black, starless night.

I thought I might be going insane. The next day at school was exhausting. I barely got any sleep and struggled to make sense of the day before. Nothing made sense. The more I thought about it, the more it confused me. I felt defeated, but I knew I had to hold it together for another day. The Halloween party. It was something real, something I had to be excited about to keep me grounded.

Even with everything going on, horrible nightmares from the past few days, I couldn't wait to go to the party. Couldn't wait to prove to everyone that I could be normal. I could be cool. I could be a friend. Just hold on. Just hold on. Please, Brain.

All I need is one more day from you. Shia, Shia, Shia. I felt a kick in my back from the desk behind me. I turned to see Jackie and his twin brother looking at me. Do they share a desk? Jackie and his twin brother looking at me, their bright red hair flashing like fire against the fluorescent overhead lights.

You better not show up to the party tomorrow. Jackie said, puffing his chest out as far as he could. An alpha intimidant. The sound of something breaking open? What was that sound effect? Oh, I don't know. Yeah. Is that an alpha noise?

Is that the idea he's like, yeah? Yeah, shirt buttons ripping everywhere. I'm an alpha, Sam. Yeah. Yeah, I knew you liked that one. Yeah. Marasca. All right.

Continue. Robbie watched Jackie and instantly mimicked him while looking at me dead in the eyes. But Sarah invited me. I said trying to force a smile and play off this uncomfortable

interaction. You're going to tell her you can't make it. Understand? Jackie said, whispering with a bite, leaning in just inches away. Just inches away. Careful to not draw attention.

understand Robbie Mimed almost on top of me how do you your ability to find these stories even on accident I know I don't want to have to do something serious but I will

if we're getting in we're getting into what is the name everyone gets the name when you turn 18 you get a slip with the name oh yeah yeah how we accidentally just read like a fan fix, some kid

wrote about himself. I don't want to have to do... And by the way, in Hyde's light, laid into him over him. He did not deserve that. I don't want to have to do something serious, but I will if... Just then.

A bucked dove through the window. Kicking and slipping on the freshly waxed form. It's spindly legs splayed out awkwardly on all sides. The other students screamed in horror. Mrs. Lawrence tried to settle the class but was unable to raise her voice over the cries of the students and the pained animal shrinks of the buck.

It had cut itself badly jumping through the window. Blood gushed from its neck and the many deep gashes on its legs and body. It leaned to the side and collapsed on the ground, choking on its own blood, gurgling as it cried out, dying. There was nothing we could do. Hushed murmurs overtook the classroom. Mrs. Lawrence couldn't look away and stood in disbelief behind her desk. Jackie and Robbie talked to themselves. I saw Sarah talking with Rebecca Wheeler,

who was supposed to be going to the party as well. Then I looked over the broken window. The bearded man who had come to my window stood smiling. Looking at me, the same twisted smile, yet he was slightly different. His brown hair was longer, fuller, and had begun to fill in patches on his face. I rubbed my eyes with my hand in disbelief,

yet when I opened them, he was still there. They're taunting me. Before I could say anything or alert anyone in the class, the intercom overhead chirped on. Students, we're on my age evacuation. Please line up and follow your teachers inside. This is not a drill. Thank you.

The intercom chirped off. I love how calm they are about a deer bleeding. Seriously, could you guys just get in the closet? The deer doesn't dismiss you. The bell does. I looked back to the window, but the man was gone. gone again. I couldn't tell if I was just in shock from the deer, but I wasn't afraid. I was frustrated. What was going on with me? What was going on with me? Was this man real? Was it my mind

slowly dissolving inside my head? I could barely take it anymore. Are you doing okay? Sarah said, tearing me from my thoughts. Oh, yeah, I'm fine. That was wild, right? Yeah There's blood Everywhere This is kind of strange Right Yeah

Hopefully all this crazy stuff Is happening now Instead of at the party, right? She's going to kill him She's going to beat him to death Or sacrifice him or something Her smile Sarah added

Her smile was perfect I felt my I felt myself grin and respond. Every time I go to quit, he says something else. My thoughts exactly. Like that. Her eyes lingered on mine for what felt like forever. Even with everything going on, I felt happy.

Finally, right where I was supposed to be. I'm going to be a pirate. Shut off! That's good. I like that. Her smile was shaken by my comment. Why did I say that? Um, Pirates are cool.

She says she's going to kill him. She said simply before walking off. Holy shit, that was awesome. I was finally able to sleep last night, restful. nothing abnormal I haven't went to school with no strange men or deer looking at me

so that was a plus as well something much worse happened my parents told me that they weren't going to let me go to the Halloween party anymore Hey what the fuck boom

that's some bullshit that's what I said that's some bullshit some what bullshit oh bullshit I thought you were saying at some, like, Bella,

you're making up a word. I'm like, what are you talking about? My parents told me that they weren't going to let me go to the Halloween party anymore. We had a long-drawn-out argument that pretty much resulted in my parents telling me that I've been acting crazy

seeing things that aren't there. Fair. They told me it was probably set off by all the horror stories I've been reading online. They didn't want me around that stuff anymore. Any scary stories and costumes? They said it would probably cause me to go into another fit. I said in my room on the bed, feeling frustration, rise through me.

I had to go to the party. It was everything to me. The only thing keeping me going through all the nightmares. I had to see Sarah. I could hear my parents downstairs, the grating of the dining room chairs sliding against the hardwood as they talked. Every now and then, I could hear a sentence coming through the walls. We should have never shown him horror films when he was younger.

This is my parents having a conversation. My mother said, I'm turning the internet off tomorrow. From my father. Great. I had two options. I could sit here tonight, turn on my computer and read scary stories like I do most nights.

And pretend nothing wrong with that. And pretend it's more special because it's how long. Yeah. It is. What are we doing right now? Dude, just wait. Or,

I could sneak out of my window off my roof, cut through the forest, and go to the party that is sure to change my socializing future. I knew what I had to do. I put my costume on I'm a weird character from an obscure

I'm a weird character from an obscure internet story that I'm sure no one will know it's a bit tongue and cheek honestly the character gets bullied burned alive and comes back and kills everyone Wow, I'll take that one? I'll take that one. That felt good.

You know what, you're right, the story rules. Surely that's not, surely that's not a bad omen, right? I zipped up my hoodie Jeff didn't have a zip up hoodie in the story by the way mine's comic chronically accurate and open my window quietly

checking to make sure I could still hear my parents talking they wouldn't notice that I'm gone something tells me they aren't going to want to see me for a little while I climbed onto the roof slowly sneaking

to the trellis speckled with ivy on the side of my room and climbing down I'd practice this before just never with anywhere to go It's so pathetic Yeah One day I'm going to do this for real

One day I'm going to go to a dead bird party As soon as I hit the grass The motion light flashed on Flooding me in its wide beams Without pausing I rushed out of its vision And into the woods before my parents would notice anything From the back window The woods were much scarier at night

All around me snarled Malformed branches stretched into impuls possible darkness. I turned on my cell phone flashlight. It's short beam barely lighting the trees through a constantly shifting mist that had come after sundown. I felt proud of myself. I never would have chosen this path before. Proud that I would be brave enough to traverse this dark terrain. He's talking about a yard. Dark terrain. I felt like I was growing. Maybe this weird brain malfunction. Maybe this weird brain malfunction that I had had been having was starting to end. I was feeling more excited for the party than ever before.

It was so close. As I pushed my way through the brush, careful not to trip an upturned route. I hashed out all the things that I might say. Oh, here we go. Quips that I... The voice gets grading after too long, but he's begging for it.

You have to persevere. Quips that I can throw at people. People love quips. Rolling through these thoughts, I couldn't believe how charming I was. You know, it is funny reading this that so clearly is targeted at this point. Right after, reading my old story

that was melodramatic. If it's perfectly. I couldn't believe how charming I was. Finally, it would be all smooth sailing from here. Everything was possibility. Good grammar. Snap. Ah!

Great! The screams had returned. This time it was deeper. furious, wounded. This time it wasn't... There were other screams you could have picked from a library. This time it wasn't a child.

It seemed to be the scream of a grown man. There's no way you didn't pick this story. This is the most... This is the most Jewish story we've ever had. Okay. Just like a man gets ripped open, then the baby gets shoved. inside of it, and then I can just scream a lot. The scream was loud, irritating. I braced myself

against it, covering my ears. It almost didn't sound human. They changed in frequency, too, drawn out in longer gaps, always coming back just as I thought they had ended. Worst, I thought as I pushed myself forward against everything in me, telling me to turn and go home, it seemed close. This was just my mind playing tricks on me, right? been happening for days, so I wouldn't happen now, right before the big party. Just ignore it. You can control your mind. Give no attention to the screams of a man somewhere in these woods. It's easy. I stepped over a deformed root, jutting up like a tindrel, I noticed the sounds of something foaming, bubbling, a collection of sounds folding over each other, slushing together

in a horrible sway. I turned towards the sound, the dim, beam of my flashlight, catching something there, moving. It was the bearded man, emaciated, crawling on all fours into the sunken husk of an older man. His eyes were closed, but as I watched, frozen in horror, they ripped open and the man let out a blood-curdling scream. The man was split at his stomach. He was screaming, unaware of his surroundings. The thin, balding man pushed open, exposed.

skin folding back against itself and proceeded to enter the yawning cavity head first draping the wet skin over his balding head dragging himself inside the carcass a disgusting squelching noise came from the inside the flesh as he grabbed ripped bones pulling himself forward inch by inch i stumbled forward a step as something bumped me from behind a deer pushed me ahead nudging me toward the man. I tried to spit out of its grass but was pinned by its sharp browning antlers, broken in places. My heels dug into the dirt as I pushed back with everything I had, trying to stop the beast, but I couldn't overpower him. The bald man finished pulling himself into the corpse, his face fitting into the skin as it overcame him, and he smiled at me. I didn't

scream. I couldn't. I hyperventilated. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be real. My eyes darted left and right. All around me, woodland animals stood and watched. I needed this to stop. I was losing my mind. Bang! A bullet ricocheted off the tree just to my left. The animals rushed away in all directions.

The deer urging me forward, released me from its antlers, and bounded off into the surging darkness. I felt flat on my back. Without thinking, I flipped onto my front, pushed up on all fours, and sprinted away as fast as I could. bang a bullet flew past me inches away it's stop shooting interesting strategy i screamed at the top of my lungs it's cool i can just do that bang i saw the flash of the gun the bullet zipping past me and hitting a tree splintering wood

Stop shooting! I screamed again, even louder, flailing my arms. He's literally dressed like Jeff the Killer doing that. The silhouette of two figures walked towards me. The Williams Brothers. Shaya? What are you doing out here? You're just sneaking around our house?

Jackie said, annoyed. Did they just shoot at people that walk through the woods? What do you see? sneaking for? Robbie chimed. Why are you shooting at me, man? I exclaimed, more exhausted than I'd ever been to my life.

Jackie snarled. This is my dad's property. And he said I can shoot into the woods any time I want. Robbie smiled, nudging his brother, quickly shaped up. Oh, hey, actually, we're glad that you're here, though. Everyone else has been arriving in the front

door for the party, but we're glad you're here. Come on, let's go. Jackie said excitedly, a grin lifting the edges of his lips unnaturally. Yeah, let's go. Copy added beaming. The party was amazing. Everyone was dressed up, laughing, having a great time. I was welcomed by everyone.

People patted me on the back. People offered me drinks. Someone even offered me some alcohol, to which I had to politely decline. Oh, come on. He's cool. this kid is so me but no one made fun of me some people even tried to guess what I was wearing

which which was cute but none of them got close to the right answer the one guy called me Jeff which made me which made me Does he say go to sleep? God, I hope. I hope.

Which made me curious if they knew. Regardless, this was everything I could have ever wanted. I found Sarah across the room. She turned to look at me just then, and our eyes connected. She flashed her perfect teeth, brushed a long strand of hazel hair out of her face. She had never looked more beautiful. Hey, you made it.

She said, reaching out and touching my arm. I wouldn't miss it for the world. I nervously set back, just happy I kept my words together. She leaned closer to me. Her grip growing tighter. What did she grip in? I have something for you. Can you come with me?

High school kids, high school party, high school children. Yeah, hi-oh. She smiled, sliding her hand down my arm to my hand as she pulled me through the party. So glad I didn't dress up as the pirate. Sarah opened the door to the garage and led me inside, shutting it just behind us. We set in the darkness for a moment. My heart was racing. Garage light turned on, and the Williams brothers were standing in the middle of the room

with a large red box in the center of the empty garage. a speckled cartoonishly giant bow was on top Hey guys I said confused looking to Sarah who gestured me over to them Go on Sarah said letting go of my arm Both the brothers stood in front of me Jackie put his hand on my shoulder

His grip was impossibly strong I know we've given you a lot of hard times But we just wanted to give you a gift to show that it's all water under the bridge Jackie's grin spread across his face. Robbie, however, was almost purple in the face, contorting and shaking, eyes tearing. I walked up to the box looking at Sarah, Robbie, and Jackie. Thanks, guys. This is so kind of you. Poor bastard. He honestly deserves it.

No. He's a good kid. He was walking. He had practiced sneaking out of his room, and then we was walking through the woods, practicing his quips. A good band. And then he gets to the party. He's like, no one can guess what I was. Like, no. I tore into my gift, unwrapping the bow and taking the top of the box.

I hope it's a bomb. Come on. When I saw what was inside, my smile faded. Dead animals. Dead birds, dead deer, rabbit squirrels, everything stuffed horribly into the box. Inside's tangled together. Their bones snapped off in angles. Robbie immediately burst out in the laughter.

Followed by Jackie. Then Sarah. All laughing at me, howling. Sarah covering her mouth, laughing, press the garage button, and the door lifted up slowly, each panel folding up and away. the entire party stood outside every single one of them shrieking with laughter hysterical my eyes begin to flood with tears what could i have done to deserve this why jackie's shoulder passed me his hand around sarah's waist robbie sprinted out of the garage and started high-fiving the crowd of kids

animal box. Epic break. Jackie and Sarah turned back to me as I stood alone in the garage next to the Putrid, rotting present they had left for me. It's not even like making him do something or like dunking something on it. It's just like, those are

dead. And they're meant for you. Yeah. Oh, we got you good. I bet you didn't think that was in there. Yeah. Oh, man. You didn't really think we wanted you to come to this party, did you? Jackie said squealing. couldn't hide her laughter and she buried her face in a jacky's jacket i couldn't fight back tears not

anymore not after this i just let them spill raising my forearm up to my eyes quickly wiping them not trying to give them the satisfaction that they were so desperately craving i wouldn't let them win not like these not like this not like these not like these i would leave with my head held up high I wiped my face in my sleeve Composing myself Looked up to the crowd finding all of them As I scanned them in disbelief and horror I saw it

A man standing in the very back taller than everyone else No expression on his face His hair was long and unkempt He was bearded covered in rags Terrified Close my eyes God

Get me out of here Amen. Amen. Robbie snorting, turned around and noticed the man before letting out a piggish squeal and running over to his brother. The crowd screamed and gasped all moving away from the man and into the garage, the man didn't move. Jackie looked at Sarah, who had fear in her eyes. Jackie stepped forward. Hey, hey man, this is a private party.

So why don't you get your homeless ass out of here? The man didn't move. Jackie, frustrated, moved up to the man. Did you hear me, asshole? I said this is a... Jackie's words escaped him. The man stood with his eyes shut. Suddenly, the man grabs Jackie by the arm.

He flailed trying to escape. The man opened his eyes. A blinding, piercing light imminent. from them. He looked at Jackie in the eyes. He was immediately blinded. Jackie fell to the ground, screaming in pain,

writhing on the ground. The crowd screamed in terror, trying to scramble, but the man opened his eyes again and shone it at the crowd, blinding everyone who stood outside. They all fell and screamed in pain, kicking and screaming on the ground.

The sound of sneakers and boots scrape the asphalt, fingernails tearing against the concrete. Kids screamed for their mom, others for each other, all falling on deaf ears. I could hear the man's bare feet walking on the garage floor. I didn't open my eyes.

I didn't have the courage. The man stopped and waited. It was excruciating. Just kill me, get it over with already. Open your eyes, my child. This does rule, you're right. Says the man, his voice is comforting. I trust him, slowly letting my eyes open, revealing the man in front of me.

Jesus? That's right, Shire. You called to me and I answered. There's no way. There's no way. Yeah, I wrote this. I fell to my knees I fell to my knees in disbelief thinking about the last couple days,

thinking of the baby born in the dark he gathered the animals of the forest to resurrect himself. For what? For me? You don't need to seek validation. That's the... Wait, my slide ends there.

Huh? Mine ends there. That's the last. It goes off then. I'll keep reading. You don't need to seek validation from these people, Shia, which is kind of like Isaiah. You need to find love in yourself. Then and only then will the others seek you as a friend. Thank you, Jesus.

Jesus smiled, putting his hand on my shoulder. I have to admit it was comforting. You're going to cure these people's blindness, right? Oh, oh yeah, totally, definitely. Jesus stood up and waved his hands over the kids, terrified. They regained their vision, screaming, scurring off into the night. The William brothers sat in the driveway, rocking back and forth. Jesus walks over to them, kneeling down to them.

This is a blessing. but always know I am watching at all times do you understand you want to read that start here I wanted to hear you read the thing so

it's a good story I have never been God so good in my time a lot you named him Shia out of letters for my name and it's almost nice and it's about a kid

who was a nerd who read creepypastas and prayed and Jesus showed up and blinded the people that made fun of them that's right we got a little

finish it off at least yeah finish it off for the people right here yeah The brothers shook their heads nervously. They got up and sprinted back into their house, slamming the door behind him. Jesus turned and moved back to me, hovering his hand over the box of dead animals,

began to chum and move in a crazed motion. Suddenly, the animals came back to life, jumping and flying out of the box and back into the forest. Praise frenzy I put my hands over my head as they rushed past and reclaimed the forest as their home once more when I looked up he was gone I just looked at the last line

you have to keep reading I was making fun of his voice the rest of the school year was a lot different. People treated me differently and things became normal after a while, though not a lot of people talked to me. That was fine. I've done a lot of personal growing. I think I've been able to be more comfortable with myself and have poured my interest, this is like a flogging, have poured my interest into internet horror topics, and have even seen. I've poured my interest into internet horror

topics and have even started making videos online. I've got to say, I think my parents are even a fan now. They even appreciated my username, Windegoon. Oh cool! Oh cool! My first comment. This iceberg video rules. A couple fun facts.

Me and my friend Dave, who's here, standing somewhere off to the right over here. We wrote this today in five hours. Also, the best part of it all is I got your wife's permission. I'm speechless. No rebuttal, no response. How, when did you decide to do that? I think I decided. I decided I wanted to write it a while ago, but I got really busy, and then I was like, oh, shit, today's the show.

So, yeah. So there, you named the character after me, praised it to God. Yes. I was making fun of him so much. And the Jeff, the killed, just over and over. You did kind of call it a little bit. Bear trap. So, you know.

When? When did I call it? You kept her saying, like... This is something that you would write. That's a bear trap. Once again, just like how old you are, which I still don't know, I just wouldn't expect you to lie to me so hard, I guess. I thought it was a good story.

For a story you wrote in five hours, that was well done. Oh, good. I'm glad you liked it. The, yeah. Like, the baby being shoved in. by the deer and stuff like that that was sick that was cool it was but like i was like you can't like just have him stand up and be like i'm jesus yeah you know right so i was like what's a cool way for a guy to be resurrected and it's like if he is growing his other self and like his younger self

is just crawling inside of him that's kind of cool that is pretty sick yeah it's pretty metal yeah and then he shows up and blinds everyone at the end gosh the amount i was like didn't drink alcohol it's like me huh i was doing the voice i was doing the shinghi voice it's beautiful okay it's unironically good story but also i i will get you back at some please do okay well done good story so that takes us to our final one of the night i was just i have the story here since the slide's not working do you want to read it together what No, the slide, that was the last of that part. Oh, for that.

Okay, so, okay. Okay, just making sure. All right, so story three, it's called the Journal of a Coal Miner's Daughter. And it is written by Travis Weaver, who goes by strange accounts on Reddit. This is someone who began posting stories to the R-slash creepcast subreddit. So, a few weeks ago, I flew to Hunter's House, and we were, recorded a whole bunch of episodes to try to get ahead of the curve a bit and that's when the goop suit incident took place right there which which by the way now that it's out did he not

kill that short film so good incredible but anyway i got to be there for the last few days of that but while we were there we recorded six episodes i think three of which are posted now we're just sprinkling them as weekends come uh one of them we read was called a counts of a soldier, of a lone soldier, something like that. It was about a soldier in like the American West. It was an excellent story. I was fan-girling over it the whole time. This guy had a ton of accounts. So I said, hey, for the show, let's do another one of his. And then it turns out he lives in Chicago. So he's here tonight. So Travis, thank you very much. Yes, sir. Yes, sir.

very nice very nice so with that our final story of the night ladies and gentlemen are you ready to begin let's do it let's do it oh that's a really good animation all right

from the diary of Clara Mara Hutchins may Hutchins already messing it up yeah sorry Clara May Hutchins West Virginia March 1907 March the 12th

Pop got stuck in the coal mine. This morning, the men from the mine, if this also turns out to be about me, I'm going to this morning, the men from the mine come running up the road. Uncle James first, black soot all about his cheeks, hollering for Mama. He said, Sarah, the sheriff's bad, but the men are in now. We'll get Henry out. That's my papa's name.

Mama went wide in the face and clutched hold of my arm near to pulling it out. She said, you swear it, James. tell me he'll come back to me. Uncle James said, I swear we'll dig till our backs give. We've got the boys on picks and shovels already. We'll use the dynamite we have to. Mom lifted her chin as if she was queen of the town.

Didn't use it. Don't you dare tell him he won't come home. Uncle Henry looked at her long, but didn't say no more. He went back down toward the mine with the others. I heard the clank of iron and the shouts of the men humming about the shafts like bees. I asked Mom if Papa was hurt She knelt before me and took my cheeks in her palms and said

Your daddy's the strongest man God ever made He'll claw through rock for us I'll be sitting at this table by your birthday you mark my words I said What if the air runs out She hushed me quick Don't you let such talk pass your lips Claire May Air or no air

Henry Hutchins will find a way He's got fighting them The kind no mountain can Barry. Later, when the lamps were lent, Uncle James came again. His boots left red clay clumps on the floor. He looked tired. Mom asked. Have you heard him? He rubbed his forehead and said, No sound yet, but we'll keep on. She would not let him rest. James, you know your brother. He'd never turn over. You'd dig till your arms fall off. Uncle James pressed his cap tight, muttered. We'll do all we can do.

Then he turned to me. Try to smile. Oh, real quick. Glira, you'll probably be proud to keep him watch out with your mom. Mama snapped. He'll be here soon to say to himself. I fucked that up one more time. Sorry, I'm so nervous.

He'll be here soon to say that himself. Nailed it. As always, you do, like, you're reading competition. comprehension's excellent when you're making fun of someone. Yeah. Amen. After he left, Mama pulled me onto her lap.

She rocks me back and forth, near to breaking my ribs, whispering in my ear. He'll be home by your birthday. He'll bring you ribbons from town. Don't you doubt it. Her words ran over and over until they made me drowsy, though I could feel her trembling.

I tried to think Papa's laugh. He always laughed like it surprised him, quick and bright. I shut my eyes and heard the mountain groaned in the dark. When I went to bed, Mama tucked me in time. Say your prayers. By the time the candles are gone, your daddy will be on his way home. Candles burned to nubs. The window stayed black.

I will say this about this author right now, not just because he's in the room. Yeah, plug your ears. Yeah, plug your ears. there is when we were reading the soldier's story there was so much language uses and like tone of it that was about like a gruff soldier

like in the American West like 1800s that I was like oh maybe the author just like is that kind of guy or is familiar with that kind of writing but now he's doing all of it for a kid in the other side of the country 50 years later so I think he's just good at writing again

not because he's in the room it's the first day without papa's voice in this house i'll write more soon march the 14th sunday church bell banged and banged down the lane mama never looked up from the stove seemed puff like smoke curled around her face kept hearing papa's name tumble from her mouth as if she was talking to the kettle when the bell went quiet i sneaked out the door Uncle James leaned on the fence with two miners. Their coats were gray as ashes, mud swallowed their boots. I crouched behind the wash barrel and pressed my cheek against it so I could hear.

One miner scraped his boot in the dirt, he said, ain't no use of digging. The mountain eats the hole soon as it's made. Uncle struck the rail with his fist. He's my brother. I'll not stop. The second miner spat into the mud and said, Sarah's wound ended up too hard.

She won't listen to even with the truth hollers in her ear. Uncle hit the fin's skin. The rail snapped and jumped to splinter. He said, Let her keep hope. What's it matter to you? The men stomped off down the lane. Uncle wiped his brow with his sleeve,

and he saw me peeking by the barrel. He bent down close and said, unless you don't repeat a word, Clara. Your mama's heart hanging by a thread. March the 15th. The lamp still. burned when the rooster called. Smoke pressed against the glass.

Did you jump at that? Huh? Oh, I thought so you'd jump when the rooster dropped. I almost did. Smoke pressed against the glass, leaving it black with soot. I reached for the wicks, but Mama swatted me back. Leave him. You'll need the light so he can find the door. Near noon, Uncle James came up the steps.

I knew him by the slam of his boots before he even showed his face. Sarah. He called. We braced a shaft with the door. timber. But she groans like an old woman. Damn. Might be we got to clap before the... Sorry, might be we got to quit before the mountain berries. My favorite thing is when you recover in the accent.

Oh, shit. Oh, God, damn. Oh, what? Like the guy's coming up to all the kid, it's like, we better get, what the, what's going? Oh, shit. Oh. Mom stepped into the doorway. Hair falling wild across her back. You'll not stop. You hear me? James Hutchins. Not till Henry walks out. Uncle stood dripping on the boards. Cap twisted him between his palms.

His coat was streaked with red mud. He looked worn to the bone. My bee's gone already. Mom sat her chin. He ain't gone. He still draws breath. I feel it. Uncle raked at the dirt in his beard and would not mean her look.

He caught me peeking from the corner. Nelt little, lips tugging up, crooked. Don't mind. me clear me your papa's mule stubborn if any man can beat out a mountain as him i tried to smile but my belly twisted something bad march the 20th so so far she wants to get her husband back and she the brother's like he may be dead and she's like no keep looking for him if you were trapped in a mine oh how long would alison Send people to look for you.

God, I never. Leave me. Leave me to rot. What if there wasn't even a cave-in? Like, you were just lost somewhere in there. Yeah, I'm just wandering around. I think then at that point, too, never. Just like, he's gone.

Yeah, we're in the parking lot. And you're like, oh, the gift shop. And she's like, it's over. Walking around, like, a giant baby, just like aimlessly walking around. Chicago. Kate, I'd give Kayla If there was a guy next to her

She'd be like, can you go look for him? But if there wasn't, she'd be like, oh. There it is. That he's gone. Something about Kayla. Yes, March the 20th. Three nights now, Mama is set by the window. Back stiff as the chair slats.

Staring toward the ridge where the mind lies. Tonight she called me close. Listen, Clara, do you hear him tapping? Ooh. I held still, but all I heard were crickets singing in the weeds. Mom dug her nails in my arm. There, that's him. He's telling us not to fret.

He's coming home. I wish to tell her there was nothing. Her gaze burned so bright I bobbed my head. Face softened the way it does when she breaks my hair. He'll be right here before the mom. then you'll see after supper uncle james came heavy up the steps set his lantern on the table and said sarah the crew can't hold much longer the timber has grown worse each day we'll lose men if we strike again i'm spring up from her chair you're lying you'd leave him down there to rot if you

stopped uncle traced the lines on his brow with his hand i trade my own lungs to bring him back but there's nothing left below for us to gain The table shook when Mama's struck and the lamp flame left high. Not another word, James. My Henry's alive. I hear him calm from those hills. The room went still. My throat twisted till it hurt.

Uncle said deep. It's done, Sarah. I'm sorry. Flicked a look toward me, turned his back and left without another word. March the 22nd. The house grows colder with each day. Mama no longer cooks full meals. She says Papa will be home soon, so we must save the best for him.

A nibble what bread is left and right with my hands let me. I think of Uncle James sometimes. His face is long as a shovel handle, worn with sadness. I think he carries a truth. Mama will not hear, and I cannot bring it to my tongue either. If Papa's gone, why do I feel him in the halls at night? It's as if he walks here already. No doors open.

Told myself, it was dreams. Yet last night I heard his boots scraped the porch. The waiter then was like haystacks thrown on a car. I will say, I can't tell if this is like her actually thinking that it's like a ghost, but if my mom was being fucking insane

and being like, One more day! I feel like I'd start freaking myself out too, dude. You hear him, right? Yeah, exactly. Do you hear him? I'd be like, no. Yeah. please get out

you know what I mean close the book dad's dead mom why is that so hard for you to figure out get over it Jesus Christ I will say this reminds me so far because like obviously growing up around coal country but everyone's got

family members that were killed in the mines and stuff like that there'd always be legends about like you know their ghosts haunt the mines or you still hear there's a place near I grew up in Bell County Kentucky where which no one in here's heard of, where there was a mine collapse

like back in the 20s. There was a group of guys who said they were on the other side of the rock and then seven men swore that out of the side of the rock a man opened a door like out of the solid stone and said, oh, come this way. And they all followed him and they walked through the rock

and came out the other side. He shut the door was never seen again. There's all these weird stories about mind collapse and shut-ins. And one of the things I remember like an old wives tale that get talked about is if someone dies in the mountain they stay on the mountain right, their spirit's always there

so it's almost like he died down in the cave and now his ghost just went home even if he doesn't know he's dead kind of thing it's interesting told myself it was dreams the last night I heard his food scrape the porch the way to them was like haystacks thrown on a cart

mama lifted her face to the window and kept her mind on the dark her eyes fixed on something through the glass that's him she said he's about here shoved my blanket to my mouth

and no sound would slip out my belly hurt from holding still I looked outside I did not see Papa I'm I'm I'm snuffing out mom that night a pillow was going over her face

go to him mommy the amount the amount of times you talk about killing a mother figure in a store Where's your mom at? She's back there, right? Yeah.

Do you... She's back in the car. Yeah. Do you... Are you aware of how much he talks about killing you? Yes. Yes. Okay.

All right. She's fine with it, I guess. Go to sleep. We need to put you in a home immediately. March the 25th. Today is my birthday. I am 10 years old. I woke...

To fuck a 10! Yes! I woke to mama shaking my shoulder. She was smiling so wide, I ne'er thought she'd lost her senses for good. Her cheeks were as bright as if she'd run a race and her hair hung loose, tangled like she had not closed her eyes all night. She said, Rise up, Claremay.

Your papa's here. Said, I'm quick, thinking I was dreaming. But she pulled. me from the bed near dragged me down the hall boards creaked under our steps the mama paid no mind to him she bent over and whispered close to my ear i told you so child i told you he'd be home this day he's waited for it same as you when we stepped into the dining room here stopped breathing papa was seated at the table he had never gone missing at all his boots were polished and his shirt looked clean.

I lifted his face to me and smiled, broad of Somerside. Happy birthday, clear, girl. His voice filled the room, deep and rolling. My knees wobbled. I had wished so long to hear him again, and it sounded strange in my ears. Papa?

Juckled and reached out his arm. Come dear old man. Did you think I'd miss your day? I stepped near, though my feet dragged. when his hand touched my shoulder it felt worn there was a weight in it I didn't recognize

Mama clapped at the side See there, Clarime Didn't I tell you? Didn't I say to keep his promise? Papa wainted her Your mama never doubted It's worth more than all the digging them boys did

I tried to smile Her mom's eyes shone bright as stars But I could not keep from staring at him Something in his look was not before. The whites around his eyes seemed too wide. The brown of them too dark, near black as a cold. When he laughed, cut the air, though he meant it kindly. Mom set a plate before him. The wall she had left was crust and beans. She said, We said the best for you, Henry. He tapped the table. Fine feast. Fine as I've ever had.

Turned to me. You ready for a good birthday, Clara? I nodded quick, and my heart beat faster. I'm gone. I'm running. Dude. Sure. There's a thing in horror stories where you somehow have to make the character, maybe not helpless, but in danger, right?

Like if it's disarming them, if it's injuring them or something like that. And the easiest way to do that's kids, right? Like kids with parental figures, what are they going to do? And there's something so menacing about the mother being like, he'll be here, he'll be here. Yeah, it's fucking insane. And then one morning, he's here. Like, creepy. Yeah.

It's creepy. No, I don't think so. Haymaker, right to the temple. Boom! Didn't you, as a kid, curl up on your mother's floor like a dog? Just watch her in the dark, yeah. Yeah. Yeah, you've got a lot to say about what's creepy for other families to do.

Just laying on the floor like a tiny little chihuahua dog. I'm scared. Yeah. Mom had fetched the little cake she had made from corn mill and sweet drippings. She placed it in the center with the stub, candle stuck in the top. Flame trembled. Oh, there was no draft.

Sky, you've been to Appalachia. The corn mill with the sweet drippings, my gosh. Popoline near. Blow it out, girl, make your wish. I shut my lids and wished everything would be the same as before. Then I blew. The smoke curled in the air When I opened my eyes, he was still watching me

Stiff as a picture painted with too many layers Mama kissed his cheek I need clothed that mountain Henry I knew it Papa patted her arm A man don't lay down for stone A man makes stove bow for him They laugh together

I forced to laugh God God's their birthday too by the way I'm Papa. Yeah. I forced to laugh too. And my skin prickles if ants crawled under it. Felt Uncle James' words in my head.

He had said there was nothing of Papa left to bring home. Yet here, Papa sat, careful as you please. But I stray away from seeing his eyes. They're not the eyes I remember. March the 26th. I kept close to Mama all day. Papa sat in his chair like a king come home and spoke of little things as if the world were small enough to hold in his hands. When Uncle James came at noon, he did not step in at once.

He stood at the door rubbing the cuff of his sleeve. Sarah, I came to see my brother. Mama held her head high. And step in, he's right here. Papa smiled wide behind her as if the air were a joke between old friends. Yes, come in, James. Sit yourself. Pop strode into the dining room and struck the table with his knuckles. Not hard, but enough to rattle the plate.

What? It's a quote. What? What are you looking at? Let's play Uncle Hung his cap on the... Okay, that line ain't in mine. Uncle hung his cap on the peg and stepped. in. His boots made little sound, though

Uncle is never a quiet man. Wait, I didn't rest that line, too. Henry. He said in a soft way I hardly knew. Where did you come up? And now we're back to what we have again. Where any man would.

Papa answered. Straight through. Uncle's mouth pinched. Straight through what, brother? Papa laughed and the sound slipped around the room like a cold draft. Through what stood in my way, you set your feet down, you press in,

and the mountain minds you. There's plenty of cracks to follow. Mama clapped her palms at once. There! You hear him, James? You doubted, and now he's here. Uncle turned from Papa to me, then to Mama. Sarah, I have to say what's true.

We pulled no man from that seam. We boarded the shaft shut. not a single body could pass through here. I'm telling you, Haymaker, Temple. I'm already gone. I'm in a wagon or some shit, riding away. A wagon? Yeah, happy fucking 10th birthday to me, dude, I'm gone.

Papa bent forward with his elbows on his knees. You call me a ghost, James? I reckon I don't know what to call you. Uncle said, his word shook. then flattened again. Mama moved between them. That is enough, James. Room went still.

Papa's smile did not change. Quit your worries. The girl is having a birthday month. Do not sour with I'll talk. Uncle worked his jaw. Sarah, take Claire and come stay with Ellen to me tonight. Let things be soared out before you come back. He bent toward me.

You may bring your book if you wish. Papa rose, the chair legs scraped the floor. I didn't do that. The chairlakes scrape the floor as if the wood did not care for the sound. The women of this house stay in this house.

The man keeps the gifts giving them clothes. Hmm? Slaid. Uncle stood his ground. His palms hung open. Cords in his neck

rising like rope. Brother, tell me the name of your first mayor. Papa looked at him mild. Old red. Uncle fixed him. She was dappled gray. Papa's teeth buried in a strange way. Gray turns red what it must.

Mama said. Enough. Her cheeks burned and her gaze ran wet. James, when you spoke rot in my door, go on home. Come again when you can behave. Uncle snatched his cap. Fixed on me a long while. the belt close so mama could not hear you hear me clear may if anything changes you run to my door

and pound to your fistache no matter what your mama says uh i'll go with you now right now also that answer's a cop out where it's like what's the name of our first horse old red it was great well you know what is red if not a gray okay that's not really the question mama moved toward him but he slipped back and caught the jam i mean it when uncle was gone, Papa shut the door with a neat snap and slid the bolt. He turned to me. Let the man have his hero talk. Seems like he

fancies it. Mama kisses Papa's cheek. He will keep quiet once he thinks on it. Papa said, I think it never helped James. Then he looked at me. Fetch me a water cub. I brought it. His fingers closed over it like

the lid of a box. He drank it greedily and smacked his lips. fine water he said as if the taste were richer than any soda at the store March the 27th Mama kept the curtains drawn as if like do us harm Papa said he liked the room dim daylight struck in his head when it came too bold

After supper you called to me Fit your blanket, Claire girl I'll sit you bed and give you a tail Oh fun You want to know what it's like coming back from a head Still? Sure. I feel like that would be you with your kid, though.

If the kid's like, tell me a bedtime story. I'd be like, let's watch the thing instead. Now you pull out a piece of paper, be like, well, there was a deer that flew through glass and then shot blood everywhere. Jesus came, it was awesome. Jesus showed up and blinded everyone. Yeah. Now, tell you about my Isaiah, he's a dork. He's long dead now, but.

I wish you could have met him How did he die, Dad? I don't know. Doesn't that seem kind of disrespectful that your co-host died? God, I just forget how beautiful my daughter's voice is. That wasn't the question.

I feel like you're bringing up something to have run around the point I was making about you don't care about Isaac. What happened to Isaiah? Yes. I carried it quick, for he waited at the doorway, smiling broad. He sat on the edge of my bed and folded the blanket up under my chin. His fingers were heavy, harder than he knew.

Your papa's got a story fit for my Clara girl. He said. His lips stayed curled, but the joy never seemed to reach the rest of his face. It's about a man in the deep, dark. Open my mouth to ask for horses or fairies. but the words talk about can we do

can we talk about anything else I would love just horses please I feel like if I'm going to bed

this is a bad idea also why don't you make noise when you walk it's because I float you say that in the fairy costumes my little wings

they patter you know what's funny about the fairy queen opening is i was talking in the car with Nate and i'm like because we were talking about you're just going to sing to the song yeah when you sung it and i sat there for a minute and i'm like you know there is a song fairy queen yeah that we could pull the actual song from and Nate was like i mean why would we want to yeah just let hunter sing to himself it's a whole thing it happens What is this football team you have? What is this football team you have?

I love it. I was caught. No, I'm not going to do it. Bunder! I'm not gonna do it. I'm shy. Leave me alone. Nothing.

Your Papa's got a story fit for my Clarke, girl. There was a man who worked in the mines, Clarke Earl. He was strong. Oh, yes. Stronger than the timber that braced the mountain above. This is still a quote? Not on my... Oh, yeah, there's shit. My bad.

My highlighter didn't do it. Sorry. But one day there was an accident. But fell all the stone above it. Yet he did not cry out. He set his teeth down and clawed at the earth. He thought, I will see the sky again. So he scraped at the walls, tore his nails,

spoke to himself of his wife and child and of birthday cakes. Then the air thinned and the man coughed. He spat black. He choked black. He cried black. Okay. Can I have cake now? No, I'm almost done.

His eyes strung and burned till he could not blink the sting away. Even his skin turned the color of the coal around him. Still, he thought. He would not give over. But the dark has watchers, Clara. Things that live where no sun has ever shown. They wondered what fire burned a man

who would not die what the mountain told him so. They wondered what gift kept beating at the rock when every bit of him was already broken. So they leaned close to the man. They spoke to him. Give it to us. Give us your gift. Seriously, just one piece of cake. And at last the man sagged. His nails worn to nothing. His jets empty of air. He could not fight any longer. He lay upon that cold when the watchers touch and the watchers touch him. They took the bright thing that burned behind his ribs they pulled it out and drank it okay and when they were done they wore his shape they filled his boots they walked where he could

not they went to his house to his bed to his child what they came to sit at her table to stroke her hair stop touching me to whisper to her what it is to die in the dark and the watchers

found what they wanted clear a girl they found it in the fight of man too stubborn to lie still they wear him still they sit beside you now

no way seriously okay turn my face to the pillows so you would not see the tears come. He bent near his breath hot in my ear. Now you will sleep and will not tell a soul. If you love your mama, you keep your lips shut.

Remember, love is quiet. So why did you tell me? Cannabis fucked up, did you? It's okay. little hunter's like yep that's fine not telling anyone yep yeah yeah no but think about it that was a very menacing sequence the watcher they wore his shape they wear it still it's fucked up yeah god still just what to say i just look at she's just like okay thank you so much okay thank you yeah birthday cake was fun right dad we like he's like you you might not think this

but i'm not actually your dad His face is, like, sagging. She's like, no. Are you serious? Okay. Puffed out the lamp. Dark folded round him like mine itself, and I lay stiff, too afraid even to call Mama's name.

March the 28th. I got up before the rooster spoke, slid on my stockings and tied my shoes with no squeak, and stood still to hear if the house woke. Mama slept in the chair by the stove, shawl crooked mouth open like a nestling I kept my face from the bedroom door where pop it lay I eased the latch and went out

yard was hard with cold and the grass shone like glass when the faint light touched it I kept at the fence where the ground is packed and made no prints I went down the lane to Uncle James' place smoke came thin from his chimney and I could smell bacon rind tap twice with my knuckles He opened him with his suspenders hanging in his hair, pressed flat on one side. Clara girl?

He said, the sleep sliding off him. You all right? He said. Uncle, it's not him. He pulled me inside and set me on the stool near the table. Kettle sang on the hob, and he poured me a cup of coffee milk. I held it with both hands. My fingers were white at the tips.

Tell it straight. He said, and he crouched, so his eyes met mine. No shod talk. So I told him the story Papa told me about the deep dark. Uncle closed his eyes and pulled air through his nose. Lord help us. He said no louder than the kennel. Clara, I'm sorry your ears took that in.

I said, he's sweet to mama in his face. But there are teeth behind it. He told me to keep my lips shut if I loved her. Good on her for going there and not being afraid. Yeah, one of the only smart children in a lot. the story. Yeah. Yeah.

Instead, she's like, well, I guess I have to stay here with the demon thing. Yeah. Uncle set his palm on the table like it was the only thing holding him up. You did right to come. You stay with us tonight. Ellen with fry eggs. We will think and make a plan, and we will fetch us share it if it needs be. And Ellen came in tying her hair.

She saw me, she put her arms around me quick. Look to Uncle. He said only We had us come to it She nodded once and kissed my brow like I was fevered We had no more And set the plates down when a shadow crossed the window

The door jumped under a hard knock Mama called through the door Hard as a whip James you open up now you took my child Uncle set his eyes Stay behind me He opened the door wide Mama stood on the stoop

Hair wild shawl still hanging wrong Your stare burned hot and bright. You hand her over. You will not turn my girl against her, Papa. Uncle spoke plain. Sarah, there is evil in your house. Let Clara stay here till I fetch the law. She slapped him.

Fast bright crack. You will not shame my husband with foul talk. Air came hard through her nose. From her shawl, she drew Papa's revolver. She kept it low, metal catching the morning like ice. And Ellen cried. Sarah put that down for God's sake. Mom's hand shook.

Clara May? She said, and her voice turned soft as if nothing broke. Come to me now. Uncle lifted his hands. Sister, you put that way. I will not raise a hand to you, but listen. The mind has never brought him up. The shaft is boarded.

What sits in that chair is not our Henry. Mama's mouth trembled, then said, You speak of this no more. Clara, now. He gave one slow nod with his lips pressed tight. I will come for you. He said close to my ear. I stepped to Mama.

She put the pistol on her pocket and pulled me close like a prize. She did not look back as we went down the lane. Frost to the left, the path was wet. My shoes took the mud and let it go with the little sucking sounds. When we came to the house, Papa stepped from the parlor. Needed as a man off to church. His collar was straight as a rule. He smiled so wide, I thought his skin would split.

There you are. I was what to fetch you two. I have a treat up the road. Fuck. One tree. I'm telling you, a roundhouse kick straight to the jaw. Again, insert joke about you wanting to kill mother figures and stories. But in this case, yes, absolutely.

There's one thing about being, like, in mourning that you're in denial, and there's another of, like, everyone else can die for this. Yeah. It's fine, yeah. I'll kill my daughter. This is worth it. Her anger slid off her face like warm wax. A birthday stroll to the works.

There's a sight to show my girls. The stomach flipped. I don't want to go. That's really cool, dad, and all. I've got school. her eyes, something. Um, dad, no thanks. Um, Clara, you're gonna want to see this.

All right. He laughed, pleasant as a song sung wrong. Now, Clara, girl, you do. A man shows his house to his own. The mind is my house, too. Mom's like, okay. Yeah, okay, that's great. Yeah, well, mine, let's go back in there.

Why not? He took Mama by one hand and me by the other. His grip was warm, yet it felt like a jar with the seal snapped. Walked the track that climbs from the creek. Tipple stood like a black scaffold against the sky. The mule path lay stamped hard and smelled of damp earth. Crow followed us away and then quit. Papa's step never hitched.

He kept a hum in his throat. Tune I did not know and did not like. With the mouth of the mind there hung a fog that did not move. The chain crossed the opening with a sign wired on. Keep out. Papa raised the chain as if it weighed nothing and let it fall behind us. He placed Mama at the lip at the dark. You go first, Sarah.

He said, sweet sugar. I want you to feel how it's still, it is. Still, it is inside. Mama turned to the black and then to him. I saw a doubt tip across her face. Crested her elbow, not hard, and it moved her. Go on. He said, easy as a hymn.

I'm right here. She stepped into the dark. Her shape point small and was gone. The fog shut like a door. The sound rose from the deep I cannot spell. not a cry not a laugh like a grain sack torn

and poured slow only the grain was not grain it was wet I felt sick now you papa said gave my arm a light push playful to a stranger

it moved me too far no he said my words thinned please papa he leaned in stare in black as cold water. A good girl minds her father. Boots steps at the stones behind us.

Quick and hard. Clara. Uncle called. Come here. Okay, yeah. It's so funny to have like a football team pumped about creepy pastas. I, uh, I, The description of it sounded like a sack of grain but wet.

She's like, okay. Honey just in half. No, thank you. I just remembered I'm actually allergic to games. Funny story with that. He came into the cut with Webb and Rawls and Pace. Caps low and lamps ready. Webb gripped a pick.

Pace carried a length of timber. Papa turned slow and set me by. behind him with one sweep. He smiled at the men as if they were boys at play. Uncle's face looked mean. Step away from the child. Papa held me behind him like I was a basket of eggs. Uncle James and the men held fast in the cut.

Their lamps lit their faces and threw long shadows up the timbers and stones. The fog at the mouth curled like smoke that would not rise. Uncle said, Step from the girl. Do it now. Papa laughed. The sound rolled along the hills and came back like another man answered.

Brother why so fierce? I bring my family to see what made me. It's a proud day. Come shake my palm. Dipped his crown to his shoulder so far, a click ran through him. His back rippled under the shirt, like cats crawling under a sack.

His knees hitched and set again, too fast as if joints found new rungs. His boots shifted. it side to side the way mill roaches slip into seams. Mr. Rawls said, Name yourself. Papa said,

I have a fine name at home and a better one below. That's a great line. That goes hard. Because when he said and name yourself, I'm like, oh, I don't know if I really want to give it a name. Like, it's too cool. And that's like, okay, we're cooking.

I apologize. What if he was like, Stephen oh my god I was afraid I forgot who we were real I'm just so used to stories get into that point of being like Lucifer or something

it's like whatever which you pulled a Jesus earlier so it would have been he said his palm on my shoulder again each piece of a separate weight my stomach rolled

and my knees knocked uncle's words pulled thin you will not have her Papa pitched forward and the lamplight caught the whites around his stare, thick as chalk. You will not take my child. She is mine. Uncle stepped closer, careful, his boots grind in the shell. Henry, if any part of you hears, I beg you, let her go. Papa hissed through his teeth, though the grin held.

You always envied Henry, James. Envyed my strength. Envyed my wife. now you take my daughter too Papa showed his teeth all of them the mountain keeps what it claims I'll return another day and we will take your gifts

from all of you then he set both palms on the splintered boards of the gates and climb like a barn spider up a sill Jesus good God you see see okay so I'm not crazy

just my birthday his body bent where a body should not bend and his boots found holds where no holds were he slid into the thinnest crack of the minds with the speed not meant for men the dark swallowed him wet rope sound came again soft as if the cave welcomed him home we stood there with the water dripping and the chalk marks ghosting the board No one spoke for a long count. I could hear the cave breathing like a great chest behind the ribs of the hills. Uncle said, very soft.

Clear amay, you are coming home with me. He wrapped his coat around my shoulders and smelled a sweat and salt and the tobacco. He never lights in the house. July the 2nd. It's been four months since Papa took Mama into the dark. I live with Uncle James and Anne Ellen now. I sleep in the small room under her quilt and help with eggs and mending. Anne Ellen gives me ribbons and makes me comb my hair neat each morning.

She said a girl must keep herself proper, even when her heart's heavy. Uncle tells me, Clara May, you are welcome here. But I miss Mama's laugh on her good days. I miss Papa's whistle as he walked the yard. I miss how they filled the house together, even when they quarreled. The days crept on plain, but when the sun drops and the rich turns black, the hills stir. The sigh runs through them like a throat too big for its face.

Come the voices in the stone. Last night, it was Mama first. Clara. She called gentle as when she tended to my dress. Come home now. Your bed is cold without you. Then Papa, the same as before. Clear a girl.

Mind your father. Don't linger with others. His words echoed around like water, tripping down a deep well. I told myself it was only wind that the sound clung to the walls. I pressed my hands to my ears, but still I heard them calling.

This morning, I asked Uncle if voices could travel from the mine, sat down his cup and looked away. Mountain say many things But we do not follow the voices that call us deeper Sometimes I think if I open the door I'd see Mama and Papa waiting at the fence Other times I dread the thought

That whatever calls from the mountains We're not where their faces at all Yeah Another round of applause for the author back there. Happy Halloween! Thank you all so much for coming out tonight. Thank you so much, of course, for doing it for charity for a good cause. You guys are certainly a blessing,

and every day Hunter and I, even if he doesn't act like it, are blown away by the amount of support and love you guys show, and we certainly don't take it for granted. Thank you all for being here. It means the world. And be sure to check out the merch stand if you haven't yet. Thank you guys so much, seriously. Get home safe and happy Halloween.

Happy Halloween. Thank you. ... POMAYOR. T. T. ... ...

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