Creepy - 50 Foot Ant's First Story Chapters 21 & 22

Episode Date: May 5, 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 creepy pastors and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or, much simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories make me. 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 21 Ignore it. Carter said. His voice low.

you'll go away. It's cold out here, guys, and I think that someone's after me. Daniel's voice said, and this time I could hear a faint bubbling sound. From where Tandy bit out his throat. Just ignore it, Carter repeated. Daniels hammered on the door again. In my arms, Nagel whimpered, pushed past her laparer. limit. She's been with us almost every time. It kept her cool, but it was finally all catching up

with her. The fact we were being stalked through a barracks that was more ruined than a home, chased by someone living who got off on us suffering. Let me in, Daniels whispered, his voice clear as a bell over the howl of the wind and the snowflakes whispering against the blanket-covered glass. The winter had been let in, and with it. Fuck off! Balmer yelled from where he was laying on a mattress. We know who it is. There was a sudden pounding on the door, loud enough that it made my vision flash again. I could hear the door creak and groan with the force of the blows, and knew it was bowing inward. Let me in! The voice. The voice. The voice. The voice was, voice howled. Above us, a voice shouted, and boots crashed against the floor. Nagle whimpered again

and burrowed against me, shivering against the blanket I hadn't been aware we were under until the wool grazed my painfully swollen cheek. Open the door! The voice roared, and I heard the shattering of glass. The wind picked up, howling, and the blanket was almost torn off of us. Snow cascade. hated across us, and I could hear the blankets snapping against the walls as the wind drove into the room. Carter and Hernandez began swearing. The windows! Hernandez yelled, somewhat unnecessarily in my opinion. I went to get up, but Nancy's arm grabbed me, holding me tightly. Her hand moved up and wrapped around the back of my neck, drawing my face down till she could kiss my swollen lip. Stay with me,

Please, she whispered into my mouth. There was banging on the door again, but not nearly the thunderous impacts that had shaken the air out of the room. I could hear Hernandez and Carter swearing, hear things moving around. Nancy was kissing me again, running her tongue over my lip and causing sparks of pain. Tell me I'm still beautiful. She whispered. She was shivering, but her skin felt warm under my hands. It felt warm when I put my hands under her shirt and pressed my hands against her thick lower back.

I mumbled to her that she was still beautiful. Tell me you love me. She said, kissing my lips softly. The wind was cutting down and I could hear things being moved around. I love you, I whispered to her. She was still shivering. He stabbed me. me, Aunt. I think I'm going into shock.

She's sad, hugging me tight. I squeezed her tight with my arms, my hands at her lower back. We're going to die, aren't we? She whispered in my ear. I hope not. I answered honestly. Do you think Tandy is going to get us? She asked, still shivering. Me?

probably same as Carter the rest of you who knows I wrapped my legs and hers rubbing her back her skin was getting cold I pulled up her shirt and then mine and pressed her skin together

her breasts were cold and her nipples felt like ice chips pressed against my skin I'm cold aunt she told me her teeth chattering please don't die I knew I was crying again, lost in the dark, and one of the few bright points in my life was dimming in my

arms. I held her tightly, kissing her face in the darkness, rubbing her skin, trying to keep her warm, trying to keep her alive against me. I kissed her cheek, and my lips found an upraised tear in her face with rough thread crisscrossing it. I kissed up the line and across her forehead. ignoring the sound of the wind, pulling one hand back to shove down her pants in the front and the other one down the back of her pants. My fingers were clumsy, but I squeezed and tickled, kissing the front of her face, ignoring the way it made my mouth throb. She shivered again and pulled tighter against me as the banging picked up.

I could hear Hernandez and Carter talking, but it was distant, far away. away. All that mattered was Nagel. My Nancy. Her skin was cold, even where she would be warm, and she was shivering in my arms, but mostly limp, barely responding to my movements. Her breathing was ragged and shallow, and she didn't even react when I bit her earlobe hard. The last time I bit her ear, she'd been in a drunken stupor, and I'd use the pain to wake her up enough to get her up off the floor of my room, out of the puddle of drunken vomit, and into the bed. The time before that, I'd used biting her ear to wake her up enough to get her out of the shower and into my bed. Now she didn't even twitch, just shivered, her skin getting colder as the wind from the broken

windows twitched under the blanket. I squeezed and pinched, trying to get her to move, to do something, anything. Please don't die. Heat blossomed in her skin under my hands, and her shivering stopped. I was consumed with the feel of her skin under my fingertips, paying attention only to her. She pushed me away suddenly, reaching down and pulling my hands out of her pants. Her arms wrapped around me, and pulled me tight, holding on to me. Her skin was warm again, hot against mine, and she pecked a kiss at my face.

Go to sleep, aunt. She teased, holding on to me. Hold me tight and go to sleep. I let her hold me, and let the darkness warm and sparked with dancing white sparks pull me in. I didn't care about the wind howling, or the flapping of fabric whipping by the wind, or even the other voices. I had Nancy, and that's all that mattered. Please don't die.

Chapter 22. Wake up, Aunt. Nancy's voice pulled me from a dream of sitting in my brother's room, holding still while his girlfriend mopped the blood off my face, and he told me that I needed to stop getting my ass kicked so often. I opened my eyes and can see her above me. She was smiling, and I could see her eyes, her hair and her skin. Past her, I could see the white of the ceiling.

I couldn't make out any features. I couldn't tell her expression beyond her teeth from smiling. I looked around, and I could see fuzzy blobs scattered, but at least I could see something instead of darkness everywhere. I can see you. I told her, wincing as speaking pulled at the stitches in my lips. You can? She sounded happy, and a hand popped up, holding up three fingers.

How many? Three, no pinky. I said, and she leaned down and hugged me. She lit a cigarette and held it out to me. I was proud of myself for being able to grab the tiny white blurt. without burning myself. I knew it was a test. She was seeing if I was lying to her. The nicotine felt good, easing the pain. I noticed it was really warm in the room, and light was coming from the window. I looked over, but all I could see was brown with white edges. How do you feel? She asked,

leaning in close. She suddenly came into focus, and I could see she had a stitched up line from her eye to the bottom of her jaw. My head hurts, I told her, pushing myself into a sitting position. Hell's bomber. Unconscious, but breathing strong. She told me, bending down and covering one eye. She flashed the flashlight in my eye, uncovered it, then repeated. Still concussed, she said, and made a face.

I think you might have a skull fracture. She sighed and rubbed the side of her face. We're all beat up. I looked around, unable to identify the man-shaped blob standing up. How's Lewis? I asked. Dad, she admitted. Can you get up? Yeah. I began fighting to get up.

What happened? I don't know. One minute he was speaking, the next minute he was speaking. the next minute he was dead. No wounds, no nothing. She said, stepping back and turning into a blurry blob as I got to my feet. She took the cigarette away from me and didn't give it back. Why is it so warm in here? I asked, finding a chair-shaped blur and sitting down. I should tell her that I still can't see worth of shit, but right now they needed me. They'd been there for me. I needed to be there for them. Hernandez and Carter figured it out, and we made it while you were asleep.

She sat on my lamp and kissed my forehead. We drug up a pair of GP mediums, put one over the door, put one over the window, and used tables and poles to hold it there. We put up the tent liners on the walls and on the floor, then we set up a stove, ran the stovepipe through the hole in the tent, and fired it up. She told me. Hernandez might have saved us all. I nodded.

and moved over to the blurry tables, finding a box quickly. I lifted up the brown bag, having to bring it almost to my nose to read the label. Chicken a la king. Great. Well, with my teeth, it beat cat shit and rice. Aunt. Nagle was next to me. I turned and looked at her, squinting.

What? I smiled. Give me the MRE. She said, and I handed it over. She moved. I couldn't tell what she was doing very well, and she held up the package. What does this say? I squinted again, till I took my head to try to read it.

I couldn't even make out the black printing. Chicken and rice, I guessed. She held it closer and closer until I could see the blurry black lines, and then it swam into focus. Pork patty with beans. You can't see it. can you? She asked. Someone else was coming up behind her. I can see. I protested, fumbling in the box and pulling out another one. I held it up to my nose. Chicken ala king. I tore it open and turned

around to see another blur standing there. Since it was skinned, I figured out who it was. Carter, I nodded, moving over to the chair and pulling open the bag. Nagel says you can't see, he told me. I could see just fine. I lie, squinting at my food. How many fingers? I turned my head, and my vision blacked out. Spark shooting crossed my sight.

In a second, everything faded in, like an old black and white TV, full of static, which slowly turned to color. I could make out his hand. The fingers blurry, but he was only holding up three of them. Three, I answered. And, Nagle asked, this time from the other side of me. I turned my head and my vision did it again, this time making nausea twist my stomach. Aunt?

She called again, this time in front of me. I slowly moved my head, seeing everything blur out for a moment. until I was looking at her. What's wrong with him? Hernandez asked. Nothing. I grunted, tearing open the foil and squeezing the chicken into my mouth. Concussion, for sure.

Nagel said, like I wasn't even there. I felt a slight stir of anger. I was sitting right in front of them for fuck's sake. Maybe a skull fracture. Maybe worse. I'm fine. I said, swallowing my food and ignoring the pain in my mouth. Have you heard anything else?

No, Carter said. I'm going to try to get some sleep. It's almost dark. I nodded and my vision shut off again. This time I counted two and a half seconds. With a sharp pain in the front of my head right before my vision came back on. I could see the blob that I'd decided was Carter move away. and slowly turned my head to face where I could see Nagel breathing. Her face was just a featureless blob.

All I was able to make out was her hair, what might be eyes, and a blob. How bad is it? She whispered leaning forward. If I turn too fast, I can't see. I can't make out details much farther than my nose. I admitted. Think I'll be okay? I don't know.

She admitted. Your face looks like hell. I put like 50 stitches into you. He stabbed you in the shoulder. She chuckled. You had the bayonet stuck in the muscles at the top of your shoulder. She shook her head and took my face in both hands, leaning forward and kissing the tip of my nose. Only aunt.

How bad did he get you? I asked her, the red welt on the side of her face vanishing as she pulled farther than a foot of her. away. She shrugged, or at least I thought that's what the movement was. He cut my face and stabbed me through my right boob. She moved again. I didn't even hear him. He's fucked. I said, grinning. I think I got him pretty good. No, he's in good enough shape that he smashed the shit out of our generator while everyone was being patched up. She told me. Hey, shut up. I'm trying to sleep. Carter said. Sorry. I said and leaned into Nagel till she swam into focus. I think it's time for plan B. The Kurt Russell plan? She smiled, and I nodded slowly figuring

out as long as I moved slow, my vision didn't cut out. When Hernandez wakes up, I smiled. She wiped off my chin with her fingers. They were bloody. I think I should go. Carter told me, a dark, blurry form. We need you in here in case he goes for the wounded. Nagle told him. I just stood beside her, holding the axe in my hands, with Hernandez on the other side of her, holding an axe of his own.

You stay here, hold down the fort. I want to go. Balmer said from where he was laying on the mattress. Fine, get up and walk over here. Nagel told him. He tried to sit up and fell back with an outcry of pain. That's what I thought. No, I can't aunt stay here?

He asked. It's my fucking plan. I growled. Can you even fucking see? Carter asked. Good enough. I told him. He's aunt.

He's good. Nagel told him, then turned to the door. unlock it, Des. The lock sounded like thunder, and the door shrieked when it opened, the noise ripping down my spine and making my stomach twist. I swallowed back the bile and looked out into the platoon area. I'd spend more than a few hours sitting out there smoking cigarettes, be-scing with everyone else, waiting to find out where I was going for TDY or to the field next. The chairs were all covered by snow, pushed to get into the car,

the far wall. The broken windows, which were just dark blurs, let the wind in. Hernandez and Nago's flashlights panned out, settling on the space about three feet from the door. It took my eyes a moment to focus well enough to understand what made both people with me inhale sharply. Four snowmen wearing BDU caps, one with a mophead for hair, all without stretched arms. I could barely make them out and stood still as Nancy moved close, kneeling down in front of one. Fucker's been in our rooms. She snarled, standing back out with something pink she pulled off the face of one. And this is my fucking vibrator.

I heard Carter snicker and bomber laugh. She blurred right before John yelled. Don't throw your battery-powered fuckstick at me? Oh! There's three more out here. So unless you want to play three holes, no waiting over there, shut the hell up, you Texas redneck. Nagel answered.

All of us chuckled. Lock the door behind us. She finished. We moved out into the snow. The sound of our boots seemed preternaturally loud to my ears. Nagel smashed down one of the snowmen as she passed them, cursing as she did so. The wind was howling down the hot.

hallway and swirling in the platoon area, the cold biting at my exposed face. The throbbing in my cheeks and nose receded within a few seconds, and I silently breathed a sigh of relief that the pain had vanished. I probably should have told someone, but what was I going to say, that I was at my limit? We were all at our limits. The snow dusting the floors was thick enough to crunch under our boots as we moved into the hallway. The handleless doors blink as we passed by them. Simon's room, where we usually sat and got blind drunk talking about sports. SBC Corman's room, with the foosball table he'd bought.

My brother's room, with the keys still stuck in the door. Hey, don't leave me stuck in here, guys! From behind the door of 221, a man's voice. We just kept walking, ignoring the door when someone banged on it. Please, let me out. The woman's voice pleaded as we kept walking through the broken midway doors. Fuck you, bitch. Nagel mumbled as we kept going.

Past my room, where my stuff had been destroyed. We stopped at the inn's stairwell, and Hernandez flashed the light at each of us before Nagel spoke. All right. When we get up there, we work as fast as possible. I'll keep watch, so Aunt, Des, it's up to you. She told us. I nodded, and I think Hernandez did too. But it was hard to tell in the darkness with my blurred vision and the snow blowing in from the shattered window behind me. Roger that. I slurred. My mouth tasted of copper. The cold wind had split open my lips again. and neither the stitches had torn or I was bleeding between them, but it didn't matter since I could barely feel the stinging pain. I'll lead the way.

I said, Why you? Fernandez asked, reaching out and stopping me. I'm expendable. I answered. What? He said. He looked at Nagel, who was nodding.

Why? Three reasons, I told him. Number one, I'm already injured. I looked at Nagel. I'm probably going to die anyway. Number two, Nagel's the closest thing we have to a medic. And you're still in good shape. I took a deep breath and admitted the one thing that I learned through the pain.

Lastly, I'm a boy. I pushed his arm away and headed towards the steps. What the fuck does that mean? He asked. It means he doesn't matter. Nagel said in a soft voice, and I nodded. My Nancy. She was right.

I was a boy. Boys didn't matter. Boys went to war. Boys worked to provide for their family. Boys were nasty, vile creatures who defiled girls. Boys were nothing but violence and stupidity. Boys shouldn't be taught to speak. Boyes didn't need to go to school. Stupid boy, violent boy, disgusting boy, nasty boy, ignorant boy.

When it was time, boys died to protect those better than them. I moved slow up both flights of steps, stopping on the fourth floor landing, shifting my grip on the axe. I could feel the anger and rage pounding at my head and ignored the nausea. you, the sparks in my vision, but embraced the pain, welcomed it, nourished it. Pain is nature's way of telling you that you're alive, boy. I was really alive. Plan B, baby. I said, then pushed open the door to the fourth floor hallway, enter upper NCO and officer

country. The hallway felt warm after the brutal chill of the stairway. and I felt a slick, sick pleasure at the fact that I was about to ruin someone's day. There was no wind, no snow, or ice in the hallway. The air was still. I could faintly smell the stench of blood on the air. Let's break shit up, I said, and stepped forward and shattered the window with the head of my axe. The wind blew over me, ice crystals that hadn't become snowflakes yet biting at my exposed skin.

Hernandez moved past me, swinging the axe into the door. I moved past him to the next door, leaned back, slammed my boot against it, kicking it clean off the hinges. I stomped it to the next room, breaking both windows with the axe before turning around and walking out. Hernandez was in there, and I heard glass shatter. We made our way down the hallway, breaking down doors and bashing open windows. When we came to the double doors that separated the hallway, Hernandez and I hacked the hinges off and stood there for a moment, the axes in our hands, when they crashed to the floor.

The building groaned and shivered around us. At the far end, I could faintly see that there was some kind of light, fuzzy and unable to be pinned down for what it was. The light was partially blocked by a shapeless blob filling the vague square, I'm coming for you, you bitch. I bellowed down the hallway. 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 CreepyPod on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook,

or email us at Creepypod. At gmail. All stories told on this podcast can be found at creepypasta wiki.com. And are protected by a creative commons license. Some rights reserved unless otherwise stated.