Creepy - 50 Foot Ant's First Story Chapters 13 & 14

Episode Date: April 29, 2020

The first story...***Written by 50 Foot Ant and narrated by Atticus Jackson***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Title music by Alex Aldea***Intro/Outro Narration by Joe Stofko Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

This is the bloody disgusting podcast network. No. This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepypastas 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. 50-foot ant's first story. Credited to 50-foot ant on something awful and narrated by Atticus Jackson. Chapter 13 Keep the blade low. On their hand in front, just below throat level. He's bent, feet apart, be ready for a thrust or slash.

Watch his axe, watch his body movement, and watch his eyes. My father's voice, low and soothing, ran through my brain as I dropped my knife hand back down by my side and brought the other one up. I didn't bother wasting breath on talking. I had nothing to say. All my attention was focused on him. I'd come in low, go for the inner thigh or a thrust near the belly button. He'd be too guarded for a straight under the breastbone thrust.

The parker was thick enough that a side thrust might not work. I'm going to make you scream. I want to hear you scream. For a long, endless split second, he just stared at me, standing in front of him with the bayonet in my hand and blood in my eyes. I saw his eye flicker a second before he moved, tinsing to avoid the axe blow. Instead, he threw it at me.

Not overhand, not like a lumberjack, but just thrust it away from him so it flew at me. I dodged it for the most part, but the end of the axe handle popped me in the mouth, and he gets spinning behind me. I heard Nagel curse, but didn't pay any attention. Everything locked down on the man in front of me. He whirled and ran, heading toward the outside and the loading dock. I knew better than to try and throw the knife. Even during practice when I was a kid, I usually miss the target or the knife held hit first, usually to my sibling's laughter and my father's frustration.

His hand snaked out, and he grabbed the D-ring right before he plunged it into the wideout. Aunt, don't! Nagel yelled out, thinking I was about the plunge after him. Fuck that! He's mine! I bellowed, sliding to a stop next to the door. I made a keep going motion at Nagel who hurried up to me. Aunt, come back! She shouted out the door.

Where are you? I yelled outside. Aunt, wait, I'm coming for you. She called out, then turned and looked at me. She reached up and wiped my chin. You're bleeding again. We shouted a few more times to convince him that once again we'd ran out into the snow, and Nagel gave off a pretty convincing.

scream that she let trail off. We headed back toward the door, and I looked at the locks. He'd managed to smash two of them off the door, but the other two still held. That was a good idea, I told her, jerking a thumb at the emergency light with a radio that matched the one upstairs was hidden. I realized there was nothing to do about the locks, but hope he didn't get through when we weren't looking and headed them to the stairwell. He wanted us to suffer.

Nagel stated, while I bent down and grinned. grabbed the axe. Motorpool platoon 2-19 was burned into the handle. I showed her, and she nodded. I handed it to her and led the way up the stairs. I was feeling no pain. My vision had sharpened up, even though things were a little blurry at a distance. The pain had just flowed right out of my body,

and while I was a little cold, I sure as hell didn't feel the way I had felt when I had woken up. We paused for a moment at the first floor stairwell and looked at one another. Faint light was leaking in through the shattered windows of the stairwell with snow blowing in. The liquid on the wall was still red in the daylight and had frozen up by the top with long trails down the wall, longer toward the edge of the landing. The top step had blood icicles hanging down from it and matching small chunks of hardened blood underneath them. Without a word we both headed up, rounding the landing only after looking at the steps next to us that let up in order to be sure nobody was standing there. Each step was only two inches thick or so, separated from each other by metal supports on each side in the middle.

Snow and ice crunched under our boots as we got closer, blood covering the first step down and completely coating the landing. Blood sprays were on the far wall, having run down the wall before freezing. The wind from the broken window sliced through our clothing as we stood there, silent, looking at where someone had been murdered. And then had their eyes cut out. Christ, aunt, who do you think it was? Nagel asked me, bending down to reach forward and touching the blood with her fingertips. Someone from CQ, I answered. Blood smears were frozen in place, where whoever had been murdered had been drug away.

and I turned to look at the steps heading up in the way in light. Frozen blood streaks were on the steps. Whoever had been killed had been drug up the steps to the third or fourth floor. Check it out or head back to the others. Nigel asked me, keeping an eye on the small window in the door. Up. I grunted, wiping my chin and ignoring the blood I left on the sleeve of the coverall. Breathing hurt, the cold air making the whole front of my feet.

face throb. Nagle nodded and I led the way, keeping the knife in front of my chest and checking the stairs that led up from the midway landing to make sure there wasn't another boot waiting to introduce itself to my face. Only our boots crunching in the snow and ice made any noise beyond the wind screaming through the broken windows. Both of us were breathing quietly, and I knew that Nagle was straining to hear anything out of the ordinary like I was. The barracks, of course, showed its hatred of all living things as we rounded the landing. Something slammed, and a scream echoed down the stairwell, followed by a rhythmic hammering that made the air vibrate and punish the eardrums. There was a loud groan, like some huge beast

giving birth, and the stairs shuddered under our feet. On the third floor, we found the door opened, and a glance down the hallway showed that there was almost two inches of snow on the floor. The doors between the halves of the hallways were laying on the floor and was completely covered by snow. And I could see the wind whipping the snow around in front of each doorway. Someone had opened every door on the floor. Up! Nagel said, her voice barely audible over the creaking and snapping of the building. I glanced at the steps and saw that the blood trail continued up.

And a bloody handprint was frozen halfway up the stairs. I knew I was smiling again, and I knew that my lips had cracked open from the cold and from my smile, but I didn't care. We headed up and paused at the door. It was almost completely dark, the last window in the stairwell about five feet below our boots. Still, we can make out the landing in the dim light. There was another bloody handprint beside the door, and the door handle was smeared with blood. There was a large, smeared mark, and I was a large, smeared mark. knew that whoever was doing this had laid the dead man down long enough to open the door.

You're up here, aren't you, you son of a bitch. I pulled the door open and saw a figure in the darkness in front of me. They were wearing a B.D.U. Cap, and they were short and squat, arms outstretched and gleaming eyes in the darkness. Another snowman. Nagle pushed by me and kicked at its base, the snow exploding outward. The whole thing fell down, and I waited until she got done swearing and kicking it before moving into the hallway after her. The BDU soft cap had an E2 rank on it when I picked it up off the tile floor. Nagel, hush.

I said softly, and she stopped kicking at the snow. It was cold in the hallway, but it was warmer than the rest of the barracks. The tile was clean, and there was no ice on the walls or on the sea. There was a frozen blood street that led to the right, down the hallway and through the double doors that separated the fourth floor hallway. The building groaned again, and my ears popped as the pressure changed in the hallway. Wind was blowing in from behind us, and I pulled the door shut. He's up here, Nagel said softly. I nodded, looking around us.

She pulled a flashlight out of her pocket and clicked it on, flashing it around. and stopping on the wall in front of us. I'm right behind you, was smeared on the wall in blood. I glanced at Nagel who giggled and shook my head and pushed past the double doors confident that Nagel would follow me, back me up, and together we walked down the hallway looking at the doors as we passed them. Nagel flashed the light long enough for us to see the name. SSG, SFC.

S-G-T S-S-G-P. This was NCO country. I knew who the door the thinning traces of blood would lead into before we found it. Sergeant Jakes. Nagle looked at me and nodded. She'd known it too. We passed by the room, and I promised myself that we'd come back, heading toward the platoon leader and section leader offices at the end of the hallway.

The doors were locked. He's hiding out up here. Nagel said again, and I nodded, my fingertips on the doorknob and pressing on it rhythmically. No reason, just something to do with my free hand while I played with my broken teeth and thought. Let's go check on the others, I answered, turning to the stairwell door. Worried about John? Nagel asked as I pushed the door open. Yeah, I admitted.

John was my friend. I didn't make friends easily. Acquaintances, yeah. Sort of friends, sure. But real friends. No. That meant letting them in, letting them know about me, and having to trust them. My mother and two of my brothers had taught me that nobody could be trusted. He'll be all right, Nagle promised as we started down the steps. The light was dimmer in the stairwell. and I knew we were losing the light. During the winter we didn't get much light. Not as bad as Alaska or Bremerhaven, but...

Bad enough. The building groaned and shuddered again, hard enough that I could feel it in the steps. I glanced at Nagel, who looked back at me worriedly. This doesn't feel right, she said, stopping me before I opened the second floor door. What? I asked, tightening my grip on the knife and then easing it up.

My hand stung and I wanted to make sure I could keep my grip. The building, I think something's wrong. She said, and I glanced through the glass window on the door. Nothing. Uh-huh, I told her. I kept probing the broken top tooth with my tongue. She was right. We'd never been back during a storm,

but I hadn't heard noises like that since my dad was stationed at Texas and a tornado had touched down near the house. The barracks was made of cinder blocks and concrete, where the barracks it had replaced had mostly been wood. It shouldn't have been making these kinds of noises. The second floor hallway was dark and cold, with winds screaming through and pushing the thick snow around. Footprints marred the snow, and the door to the platoon area was jammed open. Light from the windows made it bright enough to see, but I could tell we were losing the light fast. Looking around, I noticed that the prince all went to the first platoon's area.

Back me up, Nagel told me, walking over to the closet and opening it. She shined the flashlight inside and pulled out a broom. She quickly swept the floor, pushing all the snow to the edge of the room before putting the broom back. Smart, I told her. She knocked on the door, then knocked again. Who is it? Hernandez asked. Anton Nagel, open up, it's freezing out here, she yelled.

Hernandez opened the door, revealing her first platoon hung out when they weren't off working. Desks and tables with large windows opposite of the door. Smart to use this one. It was off to the side, and instead of the window only being about 20 feet off the ground, it was around 80 feet if you backed up far enough to throw something. Starting about five feet from the edge of the building, building, it was a sharp drop-off of almost 50 feet. We traveled along the small five-foot path and up the incline that matched the one that dropped into the woods. He'd have a tough time

throwing a hammer through the windows. Just in case, Lewis and Jacobs were hanging blankets over the windows. Bomber was on top of a mattress that had been put on a table. Hernandez locked the door behind us and Nagel and I quickly stripped off what we were wearing for cold weather gear. Nagel walked over to where they'd put the MRE box on the table, next to the radio and a big pile of blankets, while I went over and stood next to bomber. He opened his eyes and looked at me when I reached down and felt his forehead. He was burning up. How you doing, John? I asked.

You've got blood on your chin. He answered me. You eating raw meat again? No, man. I cut my lip. How you feeling? My stomach hurts. Got any beer? He said and tried to sit up.

He cried out and fell back, his eyes rolling back in his head. It checked his pulse. It was fast, his heart hammering. I went and got a chair, pulled it over next to him, and sat down and held his hand. Eat, Nagel told me, dragging over another chair and handing me an MRE before she sat down. She handed me several applesauce packets. The guys saved these for you. Thanks, I called out. When Lewis and Jacobs turned around from where they were stacking the tables against the blankets,

I waved the applesauce packets at them. They nodded and went back to work. Nagle pulled the blanket back while I ate, looking at Balmer's stomach. The bruise was a deep dark red, about two inches wide at the middle, and narrowing down to a sharp end on both sides. She pressed gently on his stomach, starting up by his ribs and working down. He was covered in sweat, and the scars he'd picked up during his life were in stark contrast to his flush skin. He was breathing fast and stirred slightly when she pressed down on his ribs.

His ribs aren't broken. She sighed, and moved lower. I looked at his Don't Mess with Texas tattoo and remembered when he got it. We'd been drunk as hell. and it was the weekend after he'd fucked a big foot, which explained the furry foot beneath it, and thought about getting a tattoo, but had passed, preferring to watch him get it and laugh at his expressions.

Nagel's fingers traced down his stomach on the left side, and he just stirred a little when she pressed on the left side all the way to his balls. She grabbed his penis, which was peeling the same as mine, and pushed her fingers into his testicles feeling around. He's not herniated. She told me, and I nodded, squeezing the applesauce into my mouth. Where did you learn to do all that? Jacobs asked from behind me.

Books. I think I know what's wrong with him. She said softly, then reached over and pressed her fingers hard below the bruise and held it. Bomber just moaned slightly and shifted. Hold him down, Nagel ordered. Her fingers still pressed deeply into his stomach. I nodded and grabbed his arm. arm, dragging it to his side where he was trying to push it, Nagel, and leaning on it.

Jacobs walked around and grabbed his other arm. Hernandez, Lewis, hold his feet. She said, both of them came over and did as they were told. She whipped her hand back, and John screamed, long and loud, his voice full of agony. He fought briefly to get loose. His eye rolled back in his head, and he kicked and fought. Then he collapsed, going limp. We all looked at Nagel, who was staring at John with an expression of sadness on her face.

What? I asked my stomach clinching. The axe blow ruptured his appendix. Chapter 14. The light was dimming in the room, and we were all silent, gathered around the table bomber was laying on. We had him wrapped up in blankets, laying on a mattress, on a table at the room. on a table at the side of the room against a wall. His skin was flushed and he was sweating. His fever strong enough that I could feel the heat rolling off of him.

His eyes would flutter open and he'd mumble before lapsing unconscious again. I'd heard him whimper for his mother, whisper his sister's name, and say both Nagels in my own name. I ignored the way Lewis and Jacobs looked at me, ignored Daniel's snicker when Bomber kept repeating my name till I reached out and took his hand. Told him I was there. Nagle glared at them when I sat there crying, and when I raised up my head, and I glared at them when they went away and left John and me alone. When I went over to grab another MRE, Carter came over and stood next to me. Are you doing okay, aunt? He asked me in a low voice, with the wind howling outside, making the window shake, and the screaming and booming sounds inside the building.

I knew nobody would hear us talking quietly. He's dying. Man, I said. He's going to die right on that table. He'll be all right. You'll see. Carter told me, squeezing my shoulder. Someone will come soon.

No, they won't. I told him. Today's Friday. It's a four-day weekend before Christmas next week. Nobody's going to think anything bad has happened. Don't think like that. He told me. And you're forgetting the psycho outside.

I told him. Why the fuck were you sleeping in your room with the windows cracked open? I asked him. What? No, I wasn't. I keep my windows shut. He told me. When I found you, your windows were cracked open.

You damn near died of hypothermia. I told him. I know. I'm the one who found you. Bomber and I carried you to lose you. his room. Thanks, I guess. He was quiet for a moment. You think it's... Don't say his name. I interrupted. He's the last fucking thing we need right now. The goddamn psycho on the loose. He's out there, you know. He's sad. I know. I answered.

We were quiet for a second while I tore open the MRE and dug out the job. jelly. You know what happened, don't you? He asked me. I held the jelly to my mouth and was squeezing it in. I raised an eyebrow, and he went on. His body disappeared from the morgue. I swallowed the grape jelly and glared at Carter. Stop talking about him. A rumble that shook the whole building stopped him from saying more. Squeezing a packet of peanut butter into my mouth, I turned away and went to sit next to my best friend, leaving Carter standing there with the MREs. Nagle sat next to me, reaching out and putting her hand on my thigh as I ate, and stared at Bomber. He kept tossing his head back and forth, moaning with delirium, and all I could do was

stare at him like a monkey doing math. I wish my brother was here. He'd know what to do. I said, shoving the wreckage of the MRE into the brown plastic bag. We need to think. Nagel said, her face barely visible in the dimming light from outside. We were losing the light fast, maybe 15 minutes until the world went dark again. What good is it going to do?

I asked her, squinting. Things were getting fuzzy again. Your head still hurt? She asked me, pulling her flashlight out of her pocket. Mostly my teeth, I admitted. She covered my eye, shining the light in my face, then uncovered it, repeating it twice. Looks like you slept it off, she told me. Your pupils are good now.

You sure? Things keep. Aunt! Balmer called out, and I turned away from Nagel. I'm here, man. I said, reaching out and grabbing his hand. I'd invite you home with me for Christmas, but my sister won. wants to fucky.

He mumbled. He was staring at the ceiling. Before I could answer, he sighed and his eyes fluttered shut. He was still breathing steadily, but he was out again. The room got steadily darker. Outside the room we heard screams, thudding, and crashing noises. Carter and me kept looking at each other. We'd heard those noises before.

Carter kept looking at his hands, and I knew he was remembering. the same as I was the night the barracks had burned down. How we'd all packed into the two CUCVs for the trip back, my brother unconscious in the back of the vehicle, Smith clenching his teeth and fists with the pain from his burns, Cobb coughing from smoke inhalation. And the fact, Tandy had vanished out of a windowless bathroom. I dozed off again, my arms on the mattress and my head on my arm,

arms, but teeth and head were killing me despite what I told Nagel. I woke up later, the entire room dark, and the sound of wind howling outside. Nagel was leaned against me, her arm around my waist, and I leaned down in the darkness and kissed the top of her head. Balmer groaned in pain. Pulling Nagel closer to me, I cuddled up and nuzzled the top of her head. She was my closest friend, aside from Bomber, and having her close to her. coddled up next to me made me feel better.

Someone had been murdered and drug into Sergeant Jake's room. There was only one problem with that. I remembered that we had three Jakes in the unit, one female, two males. Sergeant Jakes, who had been on CQ, lived on the third floor since he wasn't promotable yet. The other Sergeant Jakes from Motorpool was promotable, and he'd gone home on leave. I didn't know if those tracks had been in the hallway when I first woke up. We hadn't gone up to the fourth floor until Nagel and I had headed up there. And what the fuck was going on with the snowman?

I shifted and Nagel lifted up her head. Her hand came up and touched my face, feeling around for a moment, and then she kissed me. A long, gentle kiss. I opened my mouth when her tongue brushed my sore lips. What should we do? She asked me, whispering in my ear. You still smell like grease and rubbing alcohol. I've got a plan.

It's kind of a fuck you plan that might not be that good of an idea. I told her softly. What is it? She asked, and I told her quietly what I figured out. She was quiet for a long time. Very... Kurt Russell. She whispered, then licked my ear.

I felt that. I smiled against her face. Good. Don't tell anyone else. I overheard Daniels saying that for all they know, you were the psycho. She told me. Daniels told the others that you could have gotten your face fucked up and Bomber could have gotten hurt while we were killing the CQ team.

Great. This is the last thing we need. I told her. She suddenly whispered. Someone was walking around outside the door. Both of us stood up quietly and went over to it. I heard it open, then shut, and the footsteps kept moving. They moved up to the door we were standing next to, and I pulled and angled back.

The handle jiggled, and the door pushed slightly in as someone tried it on the other side. I heard the key slide into the lock, and I waited until the door unlocked and the handle moved down. It started to open slowly, and I got ready. When I heard a single footstep, I kicked the door as hard as I could. Someone cried out, and I whipped the door open on the rebound. Nagel turned on the flashlight, shining it into the room. I saw the cold weather mask covered face, and the bayonet in a person's hands as they stumbled backwards.

He whirled and ran, his footsteps thudding against the floor, but I didn't go after him. Nagel's flashlight had revealed the NVGs he was wearing. Everyone behind me was exclaiming, Daniels and Lewis demanding to know what was going on. Carter yelling that it was Tandy and Jacob's yelling, Go after him! Instead, Nagel slammed shut the door and locked it again. We go after him. He'll kill us.

She said simply, turning around and shining the flashlight around the room, stopping at each person's face. He's got NVGs, he's got cold weather gear, and he's got the CQ keys, or at least a master key. Not only that, but he's armed with a knife. She paused for a long moment, the silence broken by a shriek that shook the door. Unless someone has a plan, then I suggest we stay right here. Nagel said, then shine the flashlight into my face, then on the bomber who lay on the mattress. He damn near took out aunt, and he might have taken him.

out Bomber, and all you know, he's a tough bull riding son of a bitch. Nagel reached out and grabbed my hand, walking back with me to the table where Balmer was laying. She sat down, pulled me into the chair next to her, and then pulled me face first into her breasts, holding me tight, shaking. The room was silent, except for the noises in the building for a long time, till there was a rumbling that shook the entire building. It groaned, and I could feel the shaking through the room. the tile of the floor that made me look up from where I'd been relaxing against Nagel's

tits. What the fuck is that? Daniels asked. If it is what I think it is, we're in a fuck load of trouble. Carter suddenly spoke up. What? I asked, then winced as my teeth throbbed. Have a linch.

He stated, the word filling me with dread. No way. The motor pool is in between the snowpack and us. Lewis said. Doesn't matter. Carter answered. The motor pool isn't that big compared to an avalanche, and the snow would have swept around it real easy.

You guys ready to admit it wasn't me? I asked. Or bomber? Nobody said it was you. Daniel spoke up. Then let's keep it that way. I told him, pulling Nagel close. and cuddling her.

Who is it then? Because I sure as fuck can't think of someone who'd want to kill me. Why don't you ask your roommate Hewitt? Nagel snapped. Nobody asked you, bitch. He snarled back. What did you call her? I asked, standing up.

Fuck you, aunt. I'm not afraid of you. He told me, and I heard a chair scrape in the darkness. Guys, calm the fuck down. Hernandez Bart. It's bad enough that we've got someone out there trying to kill us. We don't need you two killing each other. Tell that fucking psycho to step off.

Daniel's voice was harsh in the darkness. How about I break my foot off in your ass? I asked. Calm down. Now! Hernandez barked again. Silence fell, broken by the shriek of wind outside the doors. I felt a draft whispered by my face and frowned.

Who's near the door? I asked. I am, Lewis said. Is there a breeze under the door? I asked. There was silence for a second, and then Lewis started cursing. God damn it, there is. They're all blinking in front of the door, Hernandez suggested.

I opened my mouth to suggest something else when we heard it from the door. table over by the MREs. Metal on metal crashing together. He was trying to bust open the door where our pathetic little generator was again. Aunt and I are going. Who else? Nagel asked, letting go of me. She clicked on the flashlight and moved toward the table where we'd left the cold weather

gear we'd been wearing. I'll go. Lewis offered. We dressed quickly and silently, and I handed him one of the heavy actions. as we headed toward the door. Open it, Nagel said to Hernandez, who nodded jerkily. The radio was still letting us know that whoever was out to kill us was still trying to hammer his way into the furnace room.

Hernandez pulled open the door, and Nagel's flashlight showed us an empty room. The wind hit us in the face like a hammer, and snow swirled in the room. I went first, Nagel following, and Lewis followed her. straight to the middle stairs and we eased open the door. Nagel shut off the flashlight and we all paused for a second. The sound of him hammering on the door with something floated up out the stairs and I led the way down the steps. The naked bayonet held tightly in my fist. I planned on gutting him with the same knife he tried to stab me with, leaving him stumbling around with a confused look and his intestines hanging out.

It was pitch black at the bottom of the bottom of the same knife. the stairs, and I waited for a second. I could see a hint of motion in the darkness right before there was another crash of metal-on-metal. I'll turn on the light. You kill this asshole. One, Nagel said softly into my ear. I felt the cold trickle of adrenaline down my spine. Two? I slutted my eyes so that I wouldn't be blinded when she hit the light.

Three! She hissed, flicking on the light. The light revealed the same guy, Night Vision goggles strapped over the mask, another axe in his hands. His head whipped towards us, and Lewis shoved me aside to step forward, hefting the axe in his hands. We got you now, asshole! Lewis said. Two steps back, and the guy in the park hefted the axe in his glove-covered hands. Lewis followed him deeper into the hallway.

Beyond them, the door was chalked open again. and I could see a D-ring hanging on the door. Lewis took two more steps forward. Put the axe down, dude, and nothing will happen. He said, his voice full of confidence. I knew it was going to happen before the guy even moved, but Lewis didn't see it coming. The figure threw the axe at Lewis,

spun in place, and ran to the door, pulling the D-ring free and vanishing into the snow. Again, The axe hit Lewis in the face, sending him staggering for a second, and he dropped the fire axe he was holding, his hands going to his face. Motherfucker! Lewis yelled and ran out into the snow. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast, or to suggest stories for future episodes, please visit us at CreepyPyPy! on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook, or email us at creepypod at gmail.com.

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