Creepy - 50 Foot Ant's First Story Chapters 23 & 24

Episode Date: May 6, 2020

The first story... The Creepypasta Anthology***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 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 23 I stepped forward, holding tight to the axe, grinning at the axe, grinning at the man at the end of the hallway. Behind me, Hernandez and Nagel began working on the next set of doors as I stood there, reaching up to my chest to turn on my flashlight. I couldn't see very well, but I wasn't going to need to for what I had planned. It was time to find out if I had what it took.

I began walking down the hallway, deliberately stomping on the floor, hefting the axe as I walked. Each stomp sounded thunderous over the wind, and the building shuddered as I stomped down the hallway toward the shape and the doorway. I felt the power infuse me. Even the building was on my side. The pain was a welcome thing that warned my muscles, drove away the fatigue and nausea, and made everything else but the shadow at the end of the hallway fade away. The sound of Nagel and Hernandez bashing open doors and smithes, Mashing windows receded. All of it remote and unimportant compared to the shape at the end of the hallway.

When I'd taken a leak, I looked in the mirror, using the flashlight to let me see what I looked like. I knew what he was seeing, and I hoped that he wouldn't realize just in how bad of a shape I was. My face was a battered, bloody wreck, covered in purple and red bruises, with cuts and stitches in it. My teeth shattered and broken behind my split and swollen lips. All I could do was hope he didn't know how bad off I was by how broken up my face was. Hopefully he wouldn't realize that my head felt like even a light tap would make my head explode, or that a sharp blow would probably render me blind again. My face was pretty much fucked.

At least I've never been good looking. I stomped down the middle of the hallway, staring at the blurry shadow in the middle of the double doors at the far end, maybe a football field away. Behind me, there was more crashing, and I saw the shape shift. Come on, come on! I snarled, spitting copper-tasting spit on the floor. My mouth was full of it, and I knew that I was bleeding again. Show me what you got. I was running on empty.

The door at the end of the hallway shut, cutting off the lights, and I stopped walking forward, my ears straining, knowing that all the chance I get is a quick dark blur coming at me. I squinted in the darkness, talking my head back and forth, trying to get sight of him. Another slamming door echoed down the hallway, and I felt the wind pushing. against me and then cut off, changing direction for a brief moment before going back to the wind slicing across my back. A long moment passed, screams echoing through the building. From below us there was a shout and a crash, like a multitude of boots thudding against the floor.

Mowing sobs swirled about our ankles or floated above our heads. Nagel and Hernandez kicked in each door, broke each window in, and let in the winter. The plan was simple. It was as old as it was effective. It had been used by Rome against Carthage, and it would work in the barracks. Destroy the enemy's territory. Nagle and Hernandez stayed behind me, and I took two steps forward to the next door when the enemy's territory. Nagle and Hernandez stayed behind me, and I took two steps forward to the next door when the they were done with the ones directly behind me. I kept close watch, barely able to hear above their panting with the effort they were putting in to bash the doors down. When they bashed their way into Sergeant Jake's room, Nagel gasped, and when the glass shattered, both of them hurried out. Jake's is in there, she told me.

Yeah? I squinted toward the end of the hallway, maybe 50 feet away. He's really dead. Nagel told me. Someone cut out his eyes. Hernandez said quietly. Anyone else? I asked.

No, just Sergeant Jakes. She said. Let's finish the shit. I growled taking another step forward. When we were finished, we stood in front of the double doors that led to the officer's offices. Nagel and Hernandez breathing heavily. How do you think he is? Hernandez asked.

I'm probably taking on Carter. I spithed and reached out and put one hand on the doors. They were warm. I kicked the middle of the double doors as hard as I could in between the handles, and I blinked when the light almost blinded me. The room was clean. Maps of the company area,

each of the ammunition FSTS sites, the ASP, our grid coordinates of Western Germany, marked with where the units were. Manpower strength, equipment. Several white boards broke up the company by platoon, listing everyone's names, room number, and where they were. Up here is where the unit's officers decided what we were supposed to do. Battery-powered lanterns had been set up, and some kerosene heaters were skisks. scattered around. Against the far wall was set a bunch of OD green gas cans marked kerosene. He had a nice little layer here. Everyone take a door. I walked over to the first door, kicking it open, then chopping at the hinges with my axe until it wouldn't close any better

than any of the others in the hallway. Hernandez started grabbing cans of kerosene and throwing them through the windows. Nagle turned down each of the heaters. Yeah, and then that happened. The fifth door is when Nagle found his layer. He had a nice little setup in an office with no windows, a kerosene heater, a stack of MRE boxes, and a couple of cans of potable water. His sleeping bag was canoed on top of a sleeping pad in a shelter half. A stucing. A stucing. A stack of a small. A stack. A sack of bayonets sat on a desk next to a half-dozen NVGs and a trio of fire axes. It took me a minute to figure out what each thing was, all of them nothing but blurry blobs any farther than two paces.

What are you doing? Hernandez asked me when I set the axe on the desk and straddled the sleeping bag. Returning a favor, I replied, unbuttoning my pants. While Nagle kicked open the next door, I stood there with a cold wind pulling at me and pissed all over his sleeping bag. When I was done, I grabbed the NVGs, looping them around my belts and on my blood-stained Levi jeans and picked up the bayonets. Hernandez was breaking out the windows in one of the mission planning rooms, and I passed him a set of NVGs and a pair of bayonets. He let them hang around his neck And jammed the bayonets into his back pocket

Nagle let the NVGs hang from her neck And tuck the bayonets in her jacket pockets She smiled at me And I smiled back Having fun She asked letting the axe swing from one hand And kissing my lower lip Oh yeah

I answered Mean old boy She laughed and kissed my lower lip for a second before biting hard. Her hand snaked around behind my neck, and she pulled me closer as her lips bit deep into my lip. Her eyes were wide open and looking into mine. Ficious boy, she teased when she let go. Let's find him and kill him. I growled, turning away from Nagel, when what I wanted to do was drag her down to the floor, tear off her clothes, and take her right there on the tile. Where do you think he is? Hernandez asked.

Motorpool. Nagel and I answered at the same time. The building shuddered again as more snow slammed into it. You can't go out there in that. Hernandez said, waving a hand at the snow blowing in the windows. He'll be dead before you get fifty feet. feet. I turned away from the dark room walking toward the stairwell access. We did it before. We could do it again. And this time, I looked at Nancy and grinned. We're after him. No problem.

Nagel finished as I opened the stairwell door. Yeah. Nagle let out a scream. I whipped my head around and my vision went black for a second. It came back with a snap, and in front of me stood a dark figure, dressed in a parka, with an extreme cold weather mask across his face. His hands were hidden by trigger mittens, but the left one still held the bayonet tightly up next to his head.

He was close enough that I could see every detail about him. His one good eye glared bloodshot rage at me as the knife came down. And then that happened. Chapter 24. First rule, son, is you're going to get cut. I lunged forward as the bayonet came down, adrenaline spiking through me. My right hand caught the wrist of the hand the bayonet was in. I moved into him, my left hand slamming shot after shot into his side as we staggered. I felt something give under the parker as we reached the edge of the steps.

Nancy was still screaming my name as I slung him down. I raced down the steps as he scrambled to his feet, crashing into the wall while he scrabbled down the next flight of steps. My vision vanished, but I didn't care, turning around and hurtling myself down the steps as my vision returned. My palms slapped the wall and I thrust myself down and away, chasing him. I saw him ahead of me and drove a fist into his kiss. kidney as I slammed him into the wall.

An elbow hit me in the face and I staggered back, my eyesight vanishing. But I kept my hands up just in case. He snapped back into focus just as the knife was coming down, and I slapped it away, throwing two right hands into his face before he could get the knife back around, bouncing his head off the wall. He screamed in pain and shoved me back, and I tripped over the step and landed on my ass. my vision crackling and going gray. Instead of following up, he ran down the steps, and I reached between the bars of the banister and grabbed his ankle as he went by, ignoring the flare of pain and crunch in my elbow.

He screamed again as he went down face first. I got up and chased him, jumping from the top step, aiming my boots at him. I landed in the middle of his back, and he shrieked as something crackled under my boots. Right before my feet went out from under me, and I went backwards down the flat of stairs, my head hitting a step, and a burning pain erupting in my neck. I'll kill you! He yelled, and I heard him coming down the stairs, my vision blurring and struggling to come into focus.

I guessed and lashed out with my boots and felt a jarring impact as they slammed into him. He let out a high wheeze of agony And fell on top of me We rolled to the side And I need him off just as my vision came back Grinning I got to one knee My hand at my belt Looking up at him as he stood to his full height

The bayonet in his fist The flashlights from above Cast crazy shadows on the walls And for a split second I could see his bloodshot eye plainly The knife hit me in the shoulder, driving deep. Through my jacket and shirt, the hilt slamming into my skin. He was staring down at me, his eye wide, his teeth bloody.

I twisted my knife, and he spit blood into my face. He went forward against me, and we went down the stairs. I lost him, tumbling. and I realized I was blind again when I came to a stop. I was laying in something soft, and I could feel cold seeping in through my jacket, my pants, and my shoulder faded to a dull throb. Nagel and Hernandez were coming down the stairs. I felt something tug on the inside of my shoulder, rocking me in place,

but all I could see was darkness, and I lacked this. strength to even scream. I'm out of gas. My vision came back. Tunnel vision. The middle strangely magnified. The edges blurry. But the center of my vision sharp and clear.

He was bent over me, one arm around his waist. His left hand reaching down toward me and vanishing from my vision. He rocked back, and I felt another pool of agony. from my shoulder. I couldn't even groan. God damn, asshole, enlisted puke. He snarled, letting go and standing up. He brought back his boot and kicked me in the face,

my vision vanishing in a white flash. Aunt! Aunt! Nagel was coming down the steps. He laughed, a rich, deep, evil laughter. Snow crunched next to my ear, and my body ignored my command to lash out and grab him as he went by. I heard Nagle and Hernandez's footsteps stop on the stairs as his footsteps ring on the steps, his rich, dark laughter filling the stairwell. Run!

Hernandez shouted. Ant! Nagle yelled. My Nancy. He's gone! Fernandez yelled back. Run! I could hear him going up the steps, his footsteps thudding in the darkness, his laughter leading the way.

Anne! I love you! She yelled down the stairwell. I heard the boots pound back up the stairs. I love you. I lay there in the darkness in the snow. I could feel the wind blowing in and knew he must have gotten the door open. My eyes were open, but I couldn't see, even though I blinked when cold snowflakes hit my unseeing eyes. Footsteps came back down the stairs and paused near me.

Stay down. The voice. was full of hatred, repeating the words I'd heard so often. The footsteps crunched through the snow and disappeared, leaving me alone in the cold. Time ticked by, my shoulder growing cold, and it felt like all my warmth was pulling out of my shoulder. I could feel the freezing blade stuck through me, pinning me to the ground, pinning me to the ice and snow. Sharp cold icicles touched my face, slowly tracing over it, pausing on my lips to tug them open. There was a low, bubbling chuckle as the sharp icicle ran down my cheek.

I could hear footsteps pounding down the stairs. Aunt, we're coming for you! Someone yelled. Carter? No. The talon dug down. into my shoulder, pushing next to the blade, and then withdrew as soon as it dug into my flesh. There was a sucking sound, then another low chuckle. It was wet and cold and without any

humanity. He's dead. Nagle, sobbing. No way. He's alive. Carter. I heard a low, bubbling hiss. Run There was a flash And I could see the darkness But it was less absolute Than it had been before The flashlight beam illuminated the dark form above me

Deep sunken eyes Nothing but black pits Full of hatred and dark mirth Gaping open jaws Full of broken and jagged teeth That were too long for the mouth White skin, the edges of the mouth pulled up into a horrific grin. Grimy, dirty, tattered BDUs covered with frozen mud in a ring of frost.

A hand held in front of my face at the end of a too long arm, the wrist and forearm protruding from a ragged torn BDU sleeve. The fingers were blackened, long and twisted. with the finger bones thrust through the blackened flesh. My eyes flicked down, automatically, out of habit, and spotted the name tag as Carter, Nancy, and Hernandez all screamed at once. Tandy. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast, or to suggest stories for future episodes,

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