Creepy - 1dollar.wav, Camcorder, Knob.exe

Episode Date: November 4, 2024

1dollar.wav, Camcorder, Knob.exe***Written by: BlittleMcNilsen with Narration by: Nate DuFort and Rissa Montanez***Story link: https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/1dollar.wavStory link: https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/CamcorderStory link: https://creepypasta.fandom.com/wiki/Knob.exe***Content is available under CC BY-SA***Runner's High***Written by: Cyndi Gradel and Narrated by: Alicia Atkins***Support the show at patreon.com/creepypod***Sound design by: Pacific Obadiah***Title music by: Alex Aldea Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

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Before we get back to our usual business, I do want to call out a couple things that'll be happening for the near future. First of all, there won't be Wednesday episodes anymore. Instead, we'll be rolling that content into our Sunday episodes. So there will be four stories and set of two on Sundays. This will allow us to open up a possibility doing more series in the future, as well as work around the new iOS download requirements that impact listeners who binge lists instead of keeping up to date.

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This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepy pastors and Urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy Presents

One dollar dot wave Written by B. Little McNelson Post 1. The following was a blog post by John Goodman, posted on the 17th of August 2011. Included with it was a download link to $1.wave. The file in question has been converted to OGG format so that it may be uploaded to the wiki. Goodman mentioned in the post that he would be doing extensive research on the mysteries surrounding this file. If he reports anything back, it will be posted here. After my computer got burnt to a crisp in a lightning storm, I was left with only my old computer. Fortunately, I had everything from my destroyed computer already backed up onto USB drives and CD-ROMs.

But my old computer was running Windows 98 and desperately needed an OS upgrade. It was time to search online for new OS install disk that was an affordable price. You might ask, why not just get a new computer? I would have, but because of the crappy economy I didn't have the money to do so. So my only other option was to upgrade my old one. Anyways, I searched around eBay to see if anybody was selling a copy of Windows XP at an affordable price. There's no way my computer be able to handle Windows Vista or 7, so I'd just have to go with XP. Lo and behold, somebody was selling a full Windows XP clean install disk for only $1.45.

Nobody else was bidding on it, so I placed mine. Even after I placed my bid, nobody else did. Needless to say, I won the disc, with nobody else to challenge me. A few days later, I received a disc in a white envelope. I opened the envelope and pulled it out. It seemed like any other XP bootable disc. I turned on my old computer, popped it in, and installed Windows XP as one normally would. While I waited for it to install, I ate some popcorn, took a dump, and watched some television,

occasionally checking on the progress of the installation and responding to dialog boxes, entering the registration code, etc. Finally, it finished installing and I could use the computer. The first thing I did was transfer everything I had backed up from my destroyed computer to the old computer. CD after CD, USB drive after USB drive. Eventually, I got everything onto my computer the way I wanted it. I decided to randomly browse around the computer a little before I turned it off and

went to get ready for bad. This random browsing led me to the C-colon slash Windows slash media folder. Then I noticed a file in there called $1.wave. I didn't put this file on the computer, so I assumed it was installed along with the other files in the folder. But I realized I didn't remember any such file ever being included with XP when I'd had it on my destroyed computer. Before I upgraded it to Windows 7. Curious, I double-clicked the file to open it. It was a very peculiar file.

All I heard when I opened it was some weird static noise. almost as if it was an extremely distorted song. The file was just four minutes solid of this weird sound. Kind of creep me out. I mean, it was nighttime, with my sleeping dog being my only company, and I'd found a file on my computer that I never put there and wasn't part of the original XP installation. And all it is is four minutes of weird static noise. Furthermore, it's in a system folder.

Thinking it might be a virus of some sort, I scanned the file. Behold, one Trojan came up. I had no clue where I would have gotten it from. I'd barely been on the internet at all since Windows XP was fully installed. Suddenly, I realized I'd seen a file with this same name flash for a split second on the screen as a disk installed all the system files. It could only come to one conclusion. The disc have been tampered with.

I decided to delete the Trojan, delete one dollar dot wave, and do a full system scan with both my antivirus programs. Malware by its anti-malware and Microsoft Security Essentials. I was going to take a crap load of time to finish scanning. So I decided to go to bed while I waited. I still felt a bit mad. I'd went through all that time to finally get my computer. setup and upgraded the way I wanted it, only to find out the install disk had been tampered with.

I woke up the next morning, ate my breakfast, took a shower, brushed my teeth, and went into my computer room. I sat down at my computer and turned on the monitor, which I had turned off last night before I went to bed. I couldn't believe what I saw. My desktop background had been changed to a picture of a dollar bill. There were two errors saying that my two antiviruses had crashed, along with a bunch of other blank error dialogues that were all titled $1.Wave with a single OK button. Every icon on my desktop had been replaced with a shortcut to $1.wave, even the recycle bin. My start button now said $1.orgave.

and the usual flag icon was replaced with a dollar sign. When I clicked the start button, or in this case the $1.wave button, to bring up the $1.wave menu, every icon there was also replaced with $1.wave. The administrator name was changed to $1.wave, and the account picture was out of a dollar bill. I clicked Don't Send Report to both the errors saying malware bytes and Microsoft Security Central as it crashed. Then I clicked the OK button on each $1.Wave error box. Okay, the screen was cleared off of all those windows now. I tried to reopen my antivirus programs, but they both gave me a blank error titled $1.wave.

I clicked okay on those. And I went to the $1.dave menu and clicked shut down. But got the familiar clunk error sound. I tried the power button, nothing happened. Finally I just unplugged the computer and it finally shut down. I plugged it back in, I booted in safe mode and tried opening the antivirus programs there. But when I did, my computer made the weirdest noise ever and abruptly powered off. I tried pressing the power button but nothing happened.

It didn't even wear up. That freaking virus had completely destroyed my only remaining computer. And I hadn't even gotten it from a website or anything. It had come with my operating system. Well, that was that. I had to go get some things at the grocery store, so I left the house along with my dog. I have yet to earn enough money to buy myself a new computer. I do everything computer-related on a friend's laptop that he generously lets me borrow

when I need to check my email, do something on my bank account online, etc. I've used that same laptop to type up and publish this story on the internet, along with $1.1 wave, which I have gone through and manually removed the malicious coding from. After a certain cryptic message I read talking about some last evidence that'll have to be destroyed if I share it with anybody, which you will read about in just a moment, I've decided to research as thoroughly as I can about this mysterious file until I figured out the sinister mystery that surrounds it. How did I get back $1.1.Wave after my computer was destroyed, you ask? Well, when I got home, my dog's ears perked up and she began growling menacingly.

She followed a scent into the computer room. Everything seemed normal. However, when I looked where my set up, second destroyed computer was. It wasn't there. Everything else was still there. But the computer was gone. I thought of a robbery, but who would want an old computer that doesn't even boot up anymore? I also noticed the tampered with XP install disk I'd gotten off eBay was missing as well. And its place was a different disc. There was a white CD-ROM. Something written on it in green Sharpie.

I picked up the disc and read, This is the last remaining evidence that I know of. Keep it secret, or I'll have to destroy it too. I glanced down at the table the disc had been sitting on. Where it had been was a single dollar bill. It wasn't crinkled or damaged in any way, unlike most dollar bills. It was an absolutely perfect condition, as if it had just been made. I took the disc and the dollar over to my friend's house, the one that has the laptop that I'm typing these words on.

I explained how both my computers were destroyed and he agreed to let me borrow it whenever I needed it. So I got on the laptop and put the CD in. On the CD was just one file. One dollar dot wave. Post two. On August 26, 2001, John Goodman made another blog post regarding his continuing research of $1.wave. Hey, everybody.

It's me again. So, y'all remember that $1.wave crap I posted about a week or so ago, right? Well, like I said I would, I did some research on it. Simply searching $1.wave on Google yielded no results. I asked on a message board about the file, but nobody seemed to have even heard of it before. That is, until I got a reply from some guy saying he knew of the file and had bad times with it, it went as follows. Oh, don't even remind me.

$1.00 wave. It's amazing how much trouble a four-minute sound clip of heavily distorted music can cause. It was years ago. Some person on Craigslist was selling a computer with Windows XP already installed on it. At the time, Vista was still in beta and 7 didn't even. exist yet. I went to her house in Cleveland to pick up the computer. I brought it home and turned it on. I noticed a wave file in the C-colon-slash-window-media folder entitled $1.wave. Curious, I opened it and listened to it. It was nothing special. Perhaps a little creepy,

but it didn't interest me. I closed it and went to the bathroom. I came back to the computer and I cannot believe what I saw. Everything was changed to. to dollars or some crap, and a bunch of error messages titled $1.wave. I tried using my antivirus to fix what I instantly took as a virus, but it wouldn't open. I tried turning off my computer, but it wouldn't turn off, no matter what. The only thing that worked was unplugging it. I tried to boot in safe mode and use my antivirus there, but my computer made this bizarre noise and shut off and refused to turn back on.

I don't mean to refuse to boot into the OS. I mean literally just would not power on, as if it wasn't plugged in. The next day my computer was gone, with just a single dollar bill in its place. I know it sounds insane, and you probably won't believe me unless you had a similar experience with the file yourself. Cleveland! eBay had told me that the item location was Cleveland, Ohio. I now had a new mission, tracked down the person that sold me the install disk. I replied to him saying that I had indeed had a very similar experience and requested

he gave me the exact address to the woman that sold him the computer, as I wanted to have a little talk with her. I probably sounded like a stalker, but I didn't really give a crap. I needed to figure this out. Surprisingly, the user actually sent me the address of the woman to me in a private message. Living in Ohio myself, Cleveland was not too far away. So, me and my dog got into the car and drove off. We arrived at a small yellow house that could only be the home of the woman who sold me the install disk. We walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell.

The woman almost instantly answered the door. She seemed to be elderly, short and stout with white hair tied up in a bun. I looked into her eyes. Oh, those eyes! They seeped through me and into my soul, hungrily examining it, seeing if it was suitable to feast upon. I almost sprinted back to my car and drove off right then and there, but I couldn't. I had a mystery to solve.

Why, hello, John Goodman, said the woman in a menacing voice that sent shivers down my spine. My first thought? Oh, dear, she knows my name. Oh, God, help me. My dog growled threateningly at the woman. It took all my courage to finally sputter out. Look, I don't have time for fooling around. What is $1.1.Wave and why did you put in my Windows XP install desk?

Oh, I can't tell you that, cackled the woman, whom I was now certain was no good. Why not? I countered angrily. Because, said the evil woman. However, I can tell you this. Be wary in the days that follow, for one dollar will haunt until all is hollow. Before I go say another word, the woman shut the door. on me, cackling wickedly.

I had no other choice but to walk back to the car. Along the way, a man came by and asked me, what were you doing over there? I was talking to the woman that lives in that house over there, I replied. Man's expression became concerned. Nobody's lived in that house for over ten years. I looked at the house, but instead of the bright, yellow, cheery house that, I had seen when I arrived there. There was a crumbling, abandoned foundation with a wooden plank nailed to the front door saying

condemned in green letters. But I was just talking to an elderly woman that lived there a minute ago, I argued. All color drained from the man's face. Elderly woman. Yes, I said. You know, with her hair all tied up in a bun and whatnot. The last person who lived there was an elderly woman, always having her hair tied up in a bun, but she's dead.

So I didn't actually find out much of anything new about $1.0.Wave, but apparently it was created by a ghost. Interesting. But it's no laughing matter. When I was finally back home, I realized that at that moment I saw that. That dang woman out of the corner of my eye giving me that freaking soul-devouring stare and smiling like a maniac. When I focused on her, she disappeared. Then proceeded to sprint out of the room and hide under a blanket for the rest of the night.

When I dared go back into the living room, a dollar bill lay on the floor where she'd been. Post three. On August 29th, Goodman updated the blog again with yet another report about his research on the ominous $1.wave. It's official that old Haig is stalking me. Since my last post, I've been catching glimpses of her out of the corner of my eye, always with the same soul-devouring stare and demented smile. She vanishes as soon as I focus on her,

and it always has to be at night when it happens. Each time I get the heck out of there and hide under a blanket for the rest of the night. When I dare enter the room again, there's a dollar bill where the woman was. I've actually collected all the ones she's left for me, beginning with the first that came with the last evidence disc into one wallet. I've gone three days straight without sleep because of this crap. In the most recent incident, she was even holding a bloody knife. That was enough encouragement for me.

I packed up a few things, and me and my dog piled into the car and went to the car and went to my friend's house. Unrelated. I haven't told you my dog's name yet, have I? Her name is Coco. As in chocolate Coco. Anyways, as I was saying, I told him everything that had happened.

I'd kept it secret because I figured if I told him he'd think I was insane. But at this point, I really had no other option. When I spoke about $1.1.1 wave, the old Hague that seemed to want to kill me for some reason, etc. I expected him to say I was crazy and call him mental institution. But miraculously, he actually believed me.

I guess he knew I wouldn't make crap like this up. So I'm going to be staying at his place until this situation blows by. Post 4. Post at August 30th, 2011. Tonight, my friend glanced out the window and all the collar drained from his face. and Coco growled menacingly. I looked out the window and saw it. That blasted old hag. She stared into the room from outside

with that soul-devouring stare and demented smile. Then she disappeared. We didn't need any more encouragement. We pulled down those blinds and nailed boards to every window in the house, as well as the front and back doors. I don't think we'll be going outside for a while. Post 5. Posted August 31st, 2011. I went to my friend's laptop and checked the form to write I posted asking about $1.wave.

Someone had replied there under the username $1. And guess what their profile picture was? That cursed old Hague's face with her trademark soul-eating stare and demented grin. Her reply said simply, Oh, more evidence. Guess I'll have to destroy it. I clicked the reply button to respond, but it said that the thread never existed. Furthermore, when I searched the username $1 had no such user ever existed.

Weirdest of all, her join date had been 1928. It was nine freaking decades ago. Internet didn't even exist back then. Post 6. Posted September 1st, 2011. While on my friend's laptop, a dialogue box suddenly appeared, prompting me to download 1.e. Knowing this could only be more of the old Hague's haunting, it canceled the download. But guess what? It downloaded anyway. Ain't that just nifty?

As soon as it finished, it opened itself up. When I prepared for the worst. Another computer-destroying virus. The old hague contained within a computer file. It opened. It was... It was... A game.

A game. Of all the wretched things $1.e.exe could have been. It was just some PC game. It showed a generic menu screen with the buttons, play, exit, and options. The background was a picture of a dollar bill. I clicked options, just some graphic settings and such. I went back and clicked play. Again, preparing myself for the worst.

Gave an instruction screen on how to play. Basically, the concept was that you were a bank robber, and in each level you had to go through obstacles to get to the bank and rob it. In each bank, you had to fight a boss, and if you beat the boss, you'd get the money. So I played the game. with my friend and Coco watching anxiously. Unrelated again, my friend's name's Bill. It was your generic platform game, and I played through it quite easily.

I beat three levels, and the fourth one was the final one before I got to the first bank. I beat that level and fought the boss. It was some kind of banker with superpowers or something. It was a world-one boss, so he was ridiculously easy to beat. I beat him by shooting him in the head with a pistol and got the money. The game counted up my scores and so forth before taking me to the first level of World 2. I figured I'd played enough, so I tried to exit the window, but clicking the X only greeted me with the Windows error sound.

It wanted me to keep playing. And judging by all the weird crap that had happened to me recently, the reasons couldn't be good. I tried ending the application process with Tavis. task manager. The end process button only gave me the error sound again. I tried shutting down, but the shutdown button gave me the same results. It was very similar to when $1.1 wave at first destroyed my old computer. Because the laptop was running on a battery, I had to take it out to shut it off. I put the battery back in, rebooted, and everything was normal again.

I deleted $1.exc. It didn't come back. like one dollar dot wave did. It stayed deleted. Post 7. Posted September 4th, 2011. More corner of my eye sightings of the old hag. In all of them, she's holding a bloody knife. Bording up our windows and doors didn't seem to help.

She still got into the house. Today we unboarded the front door to go and get the Sunday paper. even if we're hiding from a sadistic ghost woman who wants to kill us, we still got to keep up on the news, right? It said that a banker had been found dead at a local bank with a bullet wound in his forehead. It showed a picture of the man, and to our horror, he looked exactly like the world one boss from one dollar.exe.

The way in which I had defeated him had been a pistol to the head, and the paper said there was a bullet wound on his head. As I read the paper, I saw the old Hague again out of the corner of my eye, holding a dead corpse under her arm that looked just like the banker. This time I didn't focus on her. I focused on the paper to see what would happen if I didn't make her disappear. If she tried to kill me or anything, I'd just look at her. She kept standing there with that demented smile and soul-eating.

stare. After a few moments her smile began to fade and turn into a frown, as if she was disappointed that I didn't seem to notice her. I looked to Bill and surprisingly, he'd followed suit. Even Coco was pretending not to notice the hag. I turned back to the paper so I could continue seeing the hag out of the corner of my eye. It wasn't easy, trying not to see something yet see it at the same time. I kept wanting to look, but I knew if I focused on her she would disappear. I wanted to know what would happen if that happened. Her disappointed expression then turned to a fierce and angry look.

She raised her knife and lunged at me. In unison, me, Bill, and Coco all whirled around to face the ghost. She stopped abruptly just as she was about to reach us, then vanished. This raised yet another question. If she wants to kill us so badly, why didn't she do it and get it over with, instead of taunting us like this? Maybe she doesn't want to kill us. Maybe she just wants to make us think she wants to kill us. Make us paranoid at the point of insanity, just for her own sadistic pleasure and amusement.

Sure wouldn't surprise me. Post-Aid. Posted September 5th. I woke up this morning from the little sleep I'd actually got. I opened my eyes, expecting to see the ceiling above me, but then I froze. Standing above me, looking down into my eyes with her soul-devouring stare and insane smile. What's the hague? For several moments there was silence.

I said nothing, for I was too afraid. I didn't move, I didn't even breathe. My heart threatened to burst, pounding so hard. And finally the Hague broke the silence. Good morning, John, she said menacingly. It took all my courage to respond. Just tell me what you want and I'll give it to you. Just leave me alone.

It's just so sad. when you have to live under a curse. The curse of my own creation. Forced to pass it to others. The curse of one dollar of greed. I never asked for this. But after having it shoved down my throat so much, I've come to enjoy it.

I'm not sure if it's my sanity that's been pushed by this or what. But it comforts me to know others are feeling the same pain as me. me. Enough of your cryptic crap, I yelled, and then suddenly Coco jumped up out of nowhere and tackled the Hague to the ground, growling furiously. The Hague just smiled. Go ahead, do it, rip me to bloody shreds.

It might just be the only hope of destroying this horrid curse once and for all. Your suffering will be gone. And everyone who's ever fallen victim to Creed's villainy." Before another word could be said, Coco began tearing that woman to bloody shreds. I never knew my dog could be so violent, but I didn't care. If it meant the end of this terror that loomed over us, it was worth it. Me and Bill, who had been woken up by all the commotion, could only watch as the hague was torn apart.

She didn't even scream. In fact, she smiled as if saying, Thank God it's finally over. And then it was done. Her body was mangled and ripped so badly he couldn't recognize her. Blood was splattered everywhere. Then the body, or pieces of it anyway,

began to shimmer and fade away. Then they were gone. No trace of them remained. as if nothing had happened. Then we noticed a note laying on the floor where the hague had been. Bill picked it up and read it aloud. Destroy the dollars, destroy the disc, do it before the remnants of the curse that lie within them enslave you as it enslaved me.

I instantly knew what I had to do. I found a wallet I'd used to keep all the dollars. The haig had left me and lit a match to it. A blood-curdling scream of pain sounded from it and almost made me jump out of my skin. I threw it outside and it burned until it was nothing but ash and dust. Then I found the disc containing $1.00.Wave. I threw it to the ground and stomped on it. Another blood-curdling scream and the disc spontaneously burst into flames.

Now that is what I call burning a CD-ROM. It burned until it was nothing but a bunch of melted, plastic. I'd use a shovel to scrape it off the ground and chuck it outside. For the rest of the day, nothing else happened. The Hague never came back. Nothing. I think it'll long last this nightmare might be over.

But I won't make assumptions too quickly. I'll wait a while. See if anything else comes up. If nothing does, I guess it's safe to assume the haunting of one dollar dot wave is ended. Post 9. Posted November 12th, 2011. Well, I think I've waited long enough without anything happening that I can safely assume this is all over. Me and Coco have moved back into our own house.

Things seem to be returning to normal. And after some thinking, I've come up with a hypothesis as to what all that crap was about. I think the Hague was forced by a curse to do those terrible things. The curse was like a virus, using hers. to spread to others. I guess $1.0.Wave and all associated things are all duplicates of this virus. I can only assume its proper name is greed, since that's what the Hague kept referring to it as. How greed it came to be, or what its purpose is, I can only wonder.

But the Hague seemed to hint that it was she who created it, and it was a screw-up that she made that caused all this. I guess those dollars, the disc, and the hague were the last remnants of greed. And by destroying them, I destroyed greed forever. She was so anxious to get her hands on evidence and destroy it. Because she wanted to destroy the curse of greed. I don't know whether any of these guesses are even remotely correct, but I don't really care. As long as this nightmare is over, I'm content with not knowing. And I'm pretty darn certain that it's finally over.

You think so? Huh? Creepy Presents. Camcorder. Written by B. Little McNelson and narrated by Nate DuFort. My name is Henry Goodman. Yes, I'm related to John Goodman, the blogger that had a rather unpleasant experience with a file called $1.1.4. wave. And I'm his brother. I'm the father of three kids and I have a wife whose name is Jenny Goodman.

I live in Cincinnati, Ohio. I'm here to tell you about a rather disturbing experience I had involving a used camcorder I got off of eBay. It's strange. Both me and John's problems happened when we bought something off of eBay. Anywho, on with my story. So me and my family were planning a vacation, and we wanted to capture our trip on tape as well as take some photos. Unfortunately, our video camera was broken, so we would have to either get a new one or just take photos instead. So I went on eBay to see if anyone was selling a camcorder. Well, long story short, I found one. I bit on it, and I won. A few days later, I received a small package which had the camcorder in it. I opened it up and took the camcorder out. It was the typical camcorder with

the little small screen on it and such. I had some blank SOTI camcorder tape, so I opened up the camcorder to put one inside. To my surprise, however, there was already a tape inside. I assumed it was one that the previous owner forgot to take out. It was a used camcorder. I hope nothing important was on it. otherwise, they'd be pretty upset about losing it. I took the tape out and looked at it. There was a piece of yellow masking tape stuck on the front labeled with black Sharpie. 2006.

Just 2006, and nothing else. I decided to play the tape just to see what was on it. So I put the tape back inside the camcorder and hooked the camcorder up to my TV to watch the tape on the TV. I rewound the tape, but it was already at the beginning. So I did the usual crap to play a tape from a camcorder on the TV. The tape started with ten seconds of a blank blue screen.

Then it cut to something filming a school playground on a cloudy day. Kids ran around and played, but whoever was filming seemed to just be interested in one of them. A little girl. Probably around five years old with pale skin. brown hair, brown eyes, and wearing a yellow coat. Whoever was filming seemed to be following her and watching her play. Sometimes the person filming would talk to the girl, and it was a man's voice. He called the girl Alice, that I assumed the person filming was the girl's father.

I assumed it must have been some recording of her last day of school or something. So, if that was a recording of the cameraman's daughter the last day of school, it must have been important to him. I felt bad for him losing something this precious. But I had little time to ponder that because suddenly a very loud droning buzzing sound burst from the speakers, scaring the living crap out of me. The scenery had changed. It was now nighttime and the school was deserted except for the girl. All the while that ear-piercing and buzz continued to sound from the TV speakers as I plugged my ears. The girl was turned away from the camera so I couldn't see her face.

She just stood there, motionless. Then she turned to face the camera. And what I saw, well, I didn't see that one coming. The girl's eyeballs were gone. Just dark, empty sockets where they should have been. There wasn't blood or anything. The eyeballs were literally just gone. Her mouth was drooling some kind of disgusting green slime, and her nose was gone.

Not like it was cut off, but just not there. Just plain skin where it should have been. Think of Patrick from SpongeBob. You get the idea. The scene then burst into static. The buzzing noise stopped, but... You could hear the sound of knives slicing against flesh and blood-curdling screams. Then the scene returned, and the girl was hung by a swing in a swing set,

with several nasty wounds around her body and a bloody knife laying on the ground below her. Her eyeballs were still gone, and her mouth still dripped the weird green slime, and she still had no nose. The tape was silent. No, buzzing or anything, just silence as the girl dangled around. Heart pounding so hard it threatened to burst, scared out of my mind because of the sudden buzzing sound, and to a lesser degree, the disturbing footage that accompanied it, I sprinted over to the TV and shut it off. I ejected the tape from the camcorder, shut the camcorder off, and unhooked it from the TV. I took a hammer and smashed the tape to tiny pieces, breathing heavily.

still not sure what the heck just happened. I sat back down on the couch. I just stayed there for a while, staring at the blank TV screen. After I finally calmed down, Jenny came home from the grocery store. I helped her bring the groceries in. I didn't tell her about the tape because she'd think I was going insane. The dream I had that night was not pleasant. I was in a dark hallway. My throat, it felt like someone was repeatedly flicking my Adam's apple. That loud buzzing from the tape played nonstop. It wasn't coming from any direction. It was just there, in my ears, as if I was wearing headphones and the sound was playing on them.

When I was scared out of my mind, I wanted desperately to get out, to go home, to be in the comfort of my bed. I tried crying for help, but no matter how hard I tried, no sound would come out. Suddenly I felt the urge to vomit. And not having a bucket or a toilet nearby, I puked on the floor. But instead of puke, I hurled up a small Sony videotape with masking tape on the front, labeled 2006 in Black Sharpie. Then the tape morphed into a girl. No, not just any girl.

It was the girl in the tape. Her eyeballs were gone. Her mouth oozed green slime and she had no nose. She slowly walked down the hallway, and for some reason I followed, all the while that awful buzzing noise kept playing. She led me down the hallway, and I realized where I was. I was in an elementary school. Kids drawings and other art lined the walls.

Poster saying vote Josh for president were everywhere. You get the idea. She led me out and open door into the playground. It was the very same playground from the tape. And a man was there holding a camcorder, recording us. But not just any camcorder. It was the very same camcorder that I'd gotten off eBay. He just stood there, recording us.

The girl led me over to a swing set. She pulled a knife out of her pocket. My body then became frozen in place. I couldn't move my eyes. I couldn't move my head. I was forced to watch in horror as the girl sliced herself up with the knife, giving herself the same wounds as in the video. And the buzzing sound stopped, being replaced with the girl's

blood-curdling screams of agony. Then she put her neck into one of the swings as if it was a noose. Then the swing pulled up on its own accord, killing the girl. The girl dangled from the noose, just like in the video. After a few moments, I could move my body again. I sprinted over to the man holding the camcorder. He just looked at me and smiled. That's my good.

he said. I'm so proud. I jolted awake. My heart pounded. My forehead was sweaty. And I was breathing heavily. Jenny lay next to me, apparently still asleep. I sat there for a while and finally calmed down.

I lay back down in bed and closed my eyes. I couldn't fall back to sleep. My tossing and turning finally woke Jenny up. And she got mad and went to sleep on the night. the sofa. She opened the door, but then she froze. She just stood there, and I could see her hands trembling. I asked her what was the matter. She just pointed a trembling finger out the door. I got out of bed and looked where she was pointing. My blood ran cold. There was a hallway outside the door, going out to the living room where the TV was.

From down the hall, I could see the TV. It was on, and on it was the little girl's face, missing eyeballs and all. But then, I realized that the TV was in a corner of the room I could not see from where I was. My sleep-deprived brain mistook what I saw as the TV. But it wasn't the TV. It was the window. Creepy presents. Knob.E.

Written by B. Little McNilsson. And narrated by Rissa Montanaz. For crying out loud, what is it with my family and creepy stuff always happening to us? Oh, sorry. Let me elaborate. I am Sally Goodman, one of the three Goodman siblings. The other two are John Goodman and Henry Goodman, my brothers. Lately, freaky things have been happening to us.

First, John gets haunted by some insane ghost hag. Then, a freaky mutant girl's face is staring through Henry's living room window. I prayed to God that nothing would happen to the third of the Goodman siblings, but... Nope, something just had to happen to me. Because I guess the world hates me. All right. Enough of my self-pity. On with my story. I ain't got all day. Well, I had moved into an apartment in Dayton, Ohio. I was unpacking my things and so forth. There was a small storage room by the patio of the apartment, and I opened the door to put some things in there. It seemed to be empty, and I walked in. Then I looked down at the floor and saw that I had almost stepped on a black USB drive. I picked it up and stuck it in my pocket. I was curious as to why it was left sitting in a storage closet, and also, if there was anything on it.

I had my laptop with me, so I decided I'd see for myself, later on, after I had unpacked a few more things. Well, later on in the day, after I had done all the unpacking for that day, I got out my laptop and turned it on. It didn't have an internet connection, since I still needed to get Comcast to transfer my cable and phone services over to my new home. Just in case there were viruses on the drive, I loaded up Windows XP on a virtual machine. I plugged in the USB drive and did the usual auto-run thing, prompting me with what I wanted to do. I chose to open a folder to view the files. What was in the drive seemed to be files for some kind of game. I ignored those and found the actual game application, which was named knob.exe. I opened up the file, and

a new window opened up. It was the game. It seemed to be some kind of 16-bit platformer game. You controlled some stick figure thing and guided him through the levels. There was no title screen or anything. It just went right to the first level. The level was some city streets or something, and you had to avoid the traffic to get through that level. The really weird part was that every now and then, someone walking along would notice the stick figure, and they would scream bloody murder. The stick figure would then proceed to grab the person and strangle them to death. I got through the first four levels, but then I got to the fifth level. Instead of a city street, the stick figure was standing inside a storage room. My heart skipped a

beat when I realized where I was. It was a perfect 16-bit replica of the story. room I had found the USB drive-in. Without me even moving him, the character walked over to the door and opened it. He went outside, and the scene transitioned to another familiar place. The patio, just outside my apartment. Out of paranoia, I looked out through the glass door leading out to the apartment patio, and to my horror, somebody was there. It was the most disturbing creature at every.

seen. He was completely naked and hunched over like a gorilla. He was horribly skinny and so pale it looked like he'd never seen the light of day in his life. Black fur grew along his spine. His face, well, he wore an expression of unspeakable malice and insanity. His mouth was two times the size of a normal human's mouth. His teeth were huge. and his evil smile stretched all the way up to his forehead. He had long black hair that drooped down to his shoulders, and he had claws, claws longer than his fingers, and they looked sharp enough to cut my head clean off.

Then the thing I dreaded happening the most actually happened. He looked up at me with his cold, wicked eyes, and that horrible smile. I glanced back at my laptop screen for a second. The stick figure on the game was looking into the glass window door, just as this terrible creature was doing. I looked back. The creature was beckoning me over to him with his bony clawed index finger.

The character on the game was also beckoning. I didn't want to go with this beast. I couldn't. But I had lost control of my body. I got up. and walk straight into the clutches of that monster. I tried to turn away, but my body fought back. I opened the glass window door and stepped out onto the patio.

Being close up to this thing was even worse than seeing him from inside my apartment. He held up a map for me to see and pointed out some directions with his wicked sharp claw. Then he held up that claw to my throat. He sliced. I woke with a start, sweating and breathing heavily, heart pounding against my ribs like a hammer. It was... It was just a dream. After a while of just sitting there, I calmed down.

It seemed I had fallen asleep sometime while playing the game. I guess it made sense. I'd been having trouble sleeping the past few nights. and I was probably just tired. I looked at the laptop screen. There was a message saying the game had encountered a problem and needed to close and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. I became curious about the directions the creature

and my dream had given me. And turns out they were real directions to a real place. Some pond in the area. I decided, just for the heck of it, that I'd go there tomorrow. I didn't expect to find anything since it was only a dream, but still. The next day, after breakfast, I got in my car and followed the directions to the pond. I got there, and then I got out of the car.

I skipped a couple of rocks and stuck around for a few minutes. But not having much of a reason to stay, I started to walk back to the car. But then I noticed something on the ground out of the corner of my eye. I stopped and went over to examine it. It was a wooden trapdoor of some kind. I remember the nightmare I had and became really paranoid. But then I realized how silly I was being. It was just a dream.

Nothing bad can really be here. Right? There was a handle on the trap door that I could lift up to open it. Cautiously, I grabbed the handle and pulled up. only to reveal darkness below. I needed a flashlight. I thought I had one in the back of my car, so I went to go check,

and sure enough, I found one. I turned it on and climbed down into the darkness below. The space was empty. It was nothing but dirt on all sides. But then my flashlight shined on something that made my blood run cold, something that made me sprint back out the trap door,

slamming it shut. shut behind me and sprinting all the way back to my car, only to drive home and smash the USB drive I had found the day before into tiny pieces and then burn the pieces. The disturbing part is the hissing sound the drive made when I did this, like it was some terrible snake. What I saw was a figure, hunched over like a gorilla, horribly skinny and pale, for around its spine, drooping black hair, insane, deformed face. It was the creature from my nightmare. And he was looking right into my eyes. The following was taken from a newspaper article.

Several sightings of a horrible mutant humanoid figure wandering the streets of Ohio cities has been reported. The supposed witnesses described it as being a pale figure hunched over like a gorilla, having black fur along its spine, vicious claws, long black hair, a terribly large mouth, and an expression of pure malice and insanity. Some witnesses report seeing it strangle people to death, seemingly at random. It would be easy to dismiss these claims as some sick joke if it weren't for the sudden and mysterious deaths of several people. Every person who has died has been identified as being strangled to death. John Goodman says,

Hey Sally. Thanks for sending this to me. More of this creepy crap. I've never been superstitious, but I'm seriously starting to think we're cursed or something. This chain of freak shows that's been going down lately can't just be dumb luck. Henry Goodman says, Yeah, we seem to be attracting the paranormal, like magnets. First you, then me, and now Sally?

I don't know what's going on, but I hope it ends soon. Anonymous says. You hope so. Huh? Creepy presents. Runners High. Written by Cindy Gradle and narrated by Alicia Atkins. Mile 3 is where I usually find my rhythm in a half marathon.

All the kinks are worked out of a... my knees and my muscles are warmed up. Today's race is one of my favorites. It starts off in Garfield Park, winds through the west side, and it finishes up in beautiful Homebolt Park. The weather is perfect, and my body's feeling pretty good so far. The treeline path transitions into narrow Chicago streets, with yellow brick bungalows and quirky yard decorations. I'm keeping pace with a pack of runners that I started with. There's ten of us moving at a good speed. I wasn't always a runner. I go to the gym pretty regularly, but I wasn't obsessed about fitness. A few years ago, I started having a few health issues. My doctor suggested running as part of my treatment, so I gave it a

try. I immediately loved the feeling of freedom it gives me, especially when I run longer distances. Today's race is the first half marathon of the year for me. I don't want to push too quickly or I'll burn out early. My watch pings to let me know I've just completed another mile. A few seconds later, a deafening blast rings out in the distance. The road rumbles, lifting me off the pavement into the air. Dozens of car alarms simultaneously start to shriek. All the runners near me are stopped in the street,

looking in the direction that the sound came from. The buzzing of concerned voices grows louder, while the alarms continue to wail. I remained still for a moment, waiting for someone in the group to say something. There are no race officials nearby, so none of us have any idea what happened. A few runners decide to continue the race and they take off. Not wanting to be left behind, I follow along with the group. We turn on to North Avenue at a steady pace. The street is blocked off by wooden barricades, and there's a water station ahead.

Police sirens blare as they approach, forcing us to scramble to the curb. Two police cars rushed past us, followed by an ambulance and a fire truck. A race official waves us onto the sidewalk. There was an explosion at the Shearco building, she says to the group that has gathered around her. The race is going to be cut short. Keep going down North Avenue until you get to the park. I'd forgotten that the Chiarco paint factory was in the neighborhood. It must be the last of its kind around here.

Most of the industrial businesses fled to the suburbs long ago. I'm disappointed that I won't be doing a complete race, but anxious to get away from the area in what is sure to be a nightmare of redirected traffic. We continue running down North Avenue. Police have blocked off some of the intersections and people are gathering on the sidewalk to see what's going on. A few runners in my group decided to leave so they can get away from the area. I look around at the people near me to see who's left. A woman dressed in all red is moving steady right next to me.

I noticed her at the starting line because of her monochromatic style. Even her sunglasses are red. She looks over at me and I stop abruptly. My shoes skid along the ground and my arms full. while I steady myself. The woman stops, too, and asks me if I'm all right. I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Her red sunglasses are melting into her face.

The bright plastic rims droop in U-shaped strands down her cheeks and into her jawline. The lenses dissolve into a bubbly mess that slides down her face and lands on her shirt. I watch, horrified, while her entire. face dissolves. The woman asks me again if I'm okay, as if she's fine and nothing is happening to her. Bits of skin and flesh drip down past her lips while she talks, but her voice is totally normal.

I'm still unable to speak. I just keep staring at her. Other runners pass us by and say nothing. Why is no one stopping? I take my sunglasses off and rub my eyes, with my knuckles. I take a deep breath and try to shake the numbness out of my hands. My stomach clenches and I feel a layer of clammy moisture cover my body. I look around to see if there are any stores I can run into in case I get sick.

A storefront just ahead has a sign in Polish with the English translation underneath. The bright red letters fade in and out of focus. I wipe my lenses on my shirt and then put them back on. The woman's face has returned to normal. I mumble an apology that is barely audible through all the noise on the street. She looks at me curiously, then turns away and starts running again. She becomes a blurry figure, blending in with the other runners as they move away from me and continue the race. I shake my arms and legs to fight off the nausea, then close my eyes and take some deep breaths.

The group is thinned out by the time I catch up. The air is hazy, and I taste a hint of smoke on my tongue. A sour odor cuts through the air, like the fumes that waft out of a freshly open can of paint. Multiple sirens are blaring in the distance. One of the runners in the group comments that the fire must be bad, and that chemical fires are the hardest to put out. We approach an intersection that has been blocked off with wooden barricades. A man in a yellow reflective vest waves us over.

Please, make your way to Pierce Avenue, he shouts while pointing at the street south of us. I notice while he's pointing that something is wrong with his hand. I move closer while trying not to make it obvious that I'm staring. The stump that extends from the end of his wrist looks nothing like a hand. It's a clump of flesh with two misshapen fingers attached to it. Jagged claws protrude through the skin at the end of each finger. They look like the talons of some mythical creature. I shift my gaze to the man's face.

He scowls at me and shoves the hand into his vest. I wave at him in a weak attempt at an apology, but his back has already turned. My group has dwindled to four by the time we turn on to Pierce. There are no houses on the block, just empty lots and construction sites. A few pedestrians linger on the sidewalk, cheering on running. runners as they pass. The rich scent of wood-stained stings my eyes and numbs the inside of my nose. I imagine a thick, sable brush dipping into an oily mahogany fluid. Saturated bristles glide along a freshly sanded oak door. Dark pigment seeps into the cracks and ridges, filling the grooves

with rich color. My head is spinning. I waved to one of the runners in my groove to signal to them to go on without me. I stop in front of an unfinished luxury high-rise that is surrounded by temporary fencing. A sign in the lobby window has a colorful rendering of what future units will look like. I'm hit with a blast of cool air when I step inside. The room has a row of modern chairs and a kiosk filled with glossy brochures. A television is mounted in the corner above a water cooler. The room smells of wet paint, and there's a blue painter's tape along the edge of the

edges of the floor and ceiling. I fill a paper cup with water and drink it down eagerly. I start to fill the cup again when the TV screen comes to life. A woman begins cheerfully describing the residences that will soon be available to purchase. I move closer to the screen. Curious to see just how swanky this place is going to be. The sharply dressed spokeswoman recites the list of amenities that are available to buyers, including stainless appliances, granite counters, and marble tithes.

When she finally mentions the outrageous prices, I nearly double over with laughter. The woman continues describing the property and all of its benefits. Something about her speech is off. Her words begin to drag out at the end of each sentence. Eventually, they blur together, then stretch out into incoherent sounds. The camera zooms in until her face fills up the entire screen. The volume blares to the loudest level. I fumble for the button on the side, but can't find it.

The woman's eyes widened into shiny black orbs. Her voice rolls into a raspy, demonic growl. Our beautiful three-bedroom two-bath units with spectacular views of the bird in firelight hell. An ear-piercing howl blast from the speaker. The shock sends me backwards into the row of chairs. I press my palms to my ears until the noise stops, and the screen goes black. The woman's face appears on the screen.

Her speech is back to normal. She recites the same advertisement of three-bedroom units with the Lux amenities. I look around, desperate for someone else to confirm what I just saw, but I'm alone. I wonder if I should call my best friend. But I don't want to ask anyone to come get me in all this traffic, especially since the streets are blocked off now. I finish another cup of water and walk back outside. Pierce Avenue is empty.

There are no runners, no pedestrians, not even parked cars. The tangy scent of oil-based paint permeates the air around me. My head is light, and the ground feels uneven. I take a wobbly step off the curb, and my leg plunges through the concrete. My body drops to the ground with no time to brace myself for the fall. I slam into the pavement, scraping the skin of my palms and elbows. My left leg is folded awkwardly beneath me,

while the concrete settles around my right calf. I start to pull frantically at my thigh to lift myself out before the gray sludge hardens. My nails leave angry red lines in the flesh are on my knee, but my leg remains stuck. Orange Gatorade spews from my mouth onto the street in front of me. It sizzles and then evaporates into a cloud of steam. Buildings dissolve into blurry shapes, rotating and blending together. Streaks of color spin and dizzying circles in front of me.

The acrid scent of furniture varnish assaults my nose and burns it weighs down my throat. A fiery ball churns in my stomach and crawls up toward my brain. I've never had a panic attack before. I wonder if that's what this is. It feels so real, though. I must be having a heart attack. My heart pounds inside my chest, trying to rip right through my rib cage. My body slumps to the side and breaks through the pavement.

A cool liquid draws me in until I am completely submerged. The substance is thick and sticky like varnish. It's transparent, and I can see through it all the way up to the sky. I try to move my arms through the gooey mess, but it's like trying to swim in honey. The light from the street begins to fade. I'm sinking. I kick my legs back and forth to propel myself back up to the surface, but it doesn't work. The substance fills my nose and mouth, but somehow I am still able to breathe.

tiny pockets of light are scattered throughout the darkness. Bulky masses hanging in the shadows, like giant bats inside a cave. There's a dull hum in my ears, like the sound of being underwater. The gel begins to harden. I can feel it tightening against my skin. I pull my arms through it, the way I would if I were swimming and trying to propel myself to the surface. The move does almost nothing. to lift me back toward the street. I am stuck in the darkness. Something brushes softly

against my arm. I turn around to see a woman floating right beside me. I try to scream, but nothing comes out except a few bubbles that rise in front of my face on their way to the surface. Her eyes are opened wider than naturally possible. Her mouth is a giant O, as if she is permanently frozen mid-scream. She lingers in front of me, with her limbs swaying like a ghost. Her mouth twitches and her head jerks forward. It looks as if she's struggling to take a breath. I turn away and drag my arms through the lacquer.

My body spins around in a circle only to end up facing her again. Her jaw is slightly off-center from the rest of her face, as if someone tried to rip it away. Several teeth are floating in front of her, stuck. in the goo just like she is. Her eyes roll in their rotting sockets. All the life and color are drained from them, but somehow her gaze conveys a haunting sadness. Her focus lands on me, and her face transforms into an angry glare. She drags her arm in front of her and points an accusing finger. My heart is pounding so hard that I can almost hear the chambers pushing blood through them. My limbs move frantically, ignoring the screaming pain in my muscles. I can tell the woman is

drawn closer. Her movements send a furious current through the lacquer. A sharp pain in my shoulder forces me to stop moving. She grips me with incredible strength. Her nails dig through my shirt and into my flesh. Tiny droplets of my blood drift through the lacquer, separated like vinegar floating through oil. I reach for her wrist and grab as hard as I can. She is ice cold. I almost let go out of surprise. I squeeze harder to force her to let go with me.

Her skin slips off the bone like the skin sliding off an overcooked chicken. My hand slips away, and I let go the rotting patch that comes off of her. She watches the piece of herself float away. A strange expression of her. disbelief washes over her ghostly face. She begins to sink into the darkness. Strips of tatter clothing float behind her, feathering out like a decaying bridal train.

The surface seems miles away now. Only a sliver of light remains. I tell myself that I must still be up there. I passed out and I'm lying on the ground. There must be other runners around. Someone will see me and call for help. I have to believe that. My lungs are burning, and every time I breathe, it feels like fire in my chest.

I don't want to be trapped down here like that woman. I don't want to be stuck in whatever this is. I managed to pull myself up a few feet, but the lacquer is getting even harder to move through. A wave of light rolls through it, revealing dozens of bodies suspended all around me. I spin around and bump against a man right behind me. His phone and laptop are next to him, suspended in the thickening liquid. His eyes are closed, and his head is pointed downward toward the darkness beneath us. The icons on his phone screen are lit up.

It seems impossible. How could it still be working down here? I reach out for it, but when I do, the man grabs my wrist. He pulls me towards him until my face is inches away from his. A guttural moan leaks out of it. of his mouth, briefly shielding him behind a cloud of bubbles. His face is a mask of old bite marks from whatever unknown creatures have been feeding on him. He is mostly skeletal, with patches of graying flesh visible beneath rotting clothes. He lits out another awful howl, and I wrench away

from his grip. The man's expression morphs from anger to confusion. He turns his head from side to side, taking in the emptiness around us. I imagine him falling through the concrete like I did, snatched into the earth in the middle of a normal day in the neighborhood. How long had he been down here? How long as he had to look up at the light and wonder what happened or if anyone is coming to help? He looks at me again, as if I can somehow explain all of it.

The desperation in his eyes is magnified by the contrast to the life of the life of the night. flesh they are embedded in. I push away from him, so I no longer have to look at his face. Another crippling wave of nausea grips me. Thousands of tiny needles stab my hands and feet. My chest pulls so tight that I'm sure my heart will explode. A bitter taste seeps into my tongue and burns a trail of numbness down into my lungs. The poison bleeds out through my arteries and soaks into my cells. It lulls me into a hazy trance that pulls me further and further away from whatever chance I had to make it back to the surface. My muscles pull tight and then erupt in a series of spasms. The pain is excruciating, and I am forced to wait until it stops. A wall of sound

vibrates through the liquid, like hundreds of voices blending together to create a chorus of cries for help. The silhouettes of dozens of bodies stretch out far into the darkness. They drift through this strange graveyard, like scraps of seaweed swirling in the current. The lacquer hardens, sealing me inside of an invisible coffin. The surface is miles away, an impossible distance, that I will never get back to. I sense movement in the shadows. It seems. It seems to, It seems random at first, until I realized that the dead have formed a circle around me. Their bony fingers reach out and pull away handfuls of my flesh. They twist through my hair and rip chunks of it from my scalp.

My body shudders as pieces of me are being torn away. I am engulfed inside a horde of corpses with half-eaten faces. A throng of chaotic limbs spins me into a broken mess, until I am nothing but bones and a few morsels of ruined flesh. Memories of my childhood flash through my mind. I see my mother's face. Then my sister, and then a dog I had when I was little. I watch moments from my life and colorful scenes like a movie being projected in front of me.

My body is weightless. I bring my hand up to my face. and stare at the bony digits that are no longer protected by flesh and skin. The tiny bones move in unison when I wiggle my fingers, swirling up a few bubbles in the lacquer. Something clamps onto my ankle. It digs in like a metal trap, boring into the bone.

I am jerked downward by a force so strong that it knocks my bones out of whack. It pulls me into the depths at lightning speed. The temperature changes every few seconds until it becomes frigid. I slam into the ground and a cloud of sand explodes around me. A giant shape swims past me, hidden by the debris and the bubbles that my arrival caused. When everything settles, the creature circles, then brushes against me, as if testing the danger of this skeletal being. The eel-shaped monster's silvery scales cover the low.

length of its 30-foot body. It coils around me like a snake and begins to squeeze. There is nothing left of me to offer a fight. The creature quickly collapses my bones into a jumble of shards. It circles the kill, no doubt disappointed at my lack of fight. There are other things down here, giant things that should remain unseen. They swim up to the pile and put them. poke their claws at the remnants. They quickly realize that there is nothing to consume, and they follow the snake when it swims away to find better prey. The void is unending. There is an unholy absence of light and sound. This tomb is underneath the earth and the ocean, lower than any place I could imagine. The threads of my conscious unravel and dissolve,

into nothing. There are no senses anymore. Just an unending darkness that folds me into thick layers and absorbs me whole. One lone bristle of hope keeps me connected to life. A voice calls out to me from somewhere far away. She asks for my name, but I can't remember it. A blast of electricity surges through my arms and legs. My feet tingle as if I'm stepping on a pile of bees. A gasp of cold air stings my teeth, and I realize that I'm breathing again. The room buzzes with the whirring and beeping of hospital equipment.

I sense people moving around me, shouting commands and responses. My eyelids open reluctantly to the harsh, bright light. My throat is raw, and it burns when I try to swallow. The people around me speak comforting words, encouraging me to sip water slowly. Someone mentioned an explosion and chemical fumes. None of it makes any sense to me. My ears are ringing, and all the voices sound as if they are being fed through a layer of thick cotton balls.

I see my running clothes piled up on a chair near the wall, and then I remember the race. Fragments of memory began to come back to me. I feel the tremors from the explosion. I remember the cool air of the lobby in the empty building. I remember the jarring pain when I stepped into the soft concrete and collapsed into the street. I tried to ask the doctor about my leg, but my words come out scratchy and muddled. I ask about the others, the ones who were suspended in the concrete. The doctor's expression tells me that I'm not making any sense.

A moment later, a nurse comes in with a woman. with a syringe and injects it into the IV attached to my arm. What about the other runners? I ask. I lost them during the race when I went into the building. I came out and everyone was gone. They might be in the concrete too. There were other people down there. Did you find them? A nurse places her hand on my shoulder and gently guides me back down onto the gurney. She assures me that I'm going to be okay and that they're helping everyone. I push back, struggling to sit up in the bed. I try again to convince them that people are stuck in the concrete.

I tell them about the woman in red and the other runners that disappeared on Pierce Avenue. It's okay, she says. All of the runners were together. The explosion happened when all of you were still in the park. The race never started. For more information on this podcast, including how, to submit your own story for consideration. Please visit creepypod.com.

You can also follow us at creepypod on social media and YouTube. All stories told on this podcast are done so through Creative Commons share-a-like licensing or with written consent from the authors. No portion of this podcast may be rebroadcast or otherwise distributed without the express written consent of the creepy podcast production team and the story's author.