Creepy - 50 Foot Ant's First Story Chapters 5 & 6

Episode Date: April 23, 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 make me. retain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised.

Coupie presents 50-foot ant's first story. Credited to 50-foot ant on something awful and narrated by Atticus Jackson. Chapter 5 Bomber Nagel and I walked down the hallway, only my flashlight leading the way. Nagel and Balmer had given theirs to the few people left in the unit that were all gathered in Lewis's room. The barracks creaked and groaned around us, and a steady slamming noise could be heard coming from somewhere in the building. Frost glittered on the walls and floor with patches of ice here and there. When we pushed the midpoint doors open, there was a crack of breaking ice and the swirl of wind around our legs.

Once again, I caught the odor of something dead and rotting. "'Someone's opened up more windows.' "'Nagle said when we paused on the other side of the doors. "'Uptstairs there was a scream of agreement "'that floated down the stairwell behind us. "'Who do you think it is?' I asked. "'If it's someone from the unit, "'it has to be either the guys from CQ or someone from the unit

"'that we didn't know it was back.' "'Balmer said, rubbing his hands together. "'Khe Christ, it's called.' We kept walking toward my room, and I pulled my key ring out of my pocket. We stopped in front of my door. We had agreed to grab the extreme cold weather gear out of our rooms before we followed through with my plan. A plan that held a little bit more than a trace of desperation. Sadly, it was pretty much our only hope, and it carried more than a little bit of risk.

I reached out, put my hand on the handle of my door, and reached forward with my key. And my door fell inward, pivoting in my hand and smashing me across the shins, knocking me down and taking Nagel with me. I laid there for a moment, a little stunned by the fall, bouncing my head off the ice-covered tile, and the fact that my door had just fallen the fuck off! Bomber panned the light into my room as I looked up, and my heart sank. My roommates and my wall lockers were all open. the doors hanging half off the hinges. Our TA 50 scattered around, down stuffing blowing out of the room and into the hallway. My desk drawers were yanked out, the three-three-d drawer chests broken.

My stereo, the computer smashed. My windows open. Someone kicked open your door, Balmer said as Nagel and I got to our feet. We went in and looked around. My blankets were ruined. The quilt my grandmother made me shredded. The cold weather gear was hanging from the end of the bunk bed, sliced down the back and stuffing pulled out.

And my long johns tied into a noose and thrown over the chair in front of the desk. My Guns and Roses poster was shredded on the wall. My award letters torn off the wall and laying on the snow-dusted floor. And my poor Amiga 500 was shattered in front of the dented refrigerator. It looked like someone had taken my typewriter and used it to beat to death the rest of my electronics in the room. My Amiga monitor and my roommate's television were smashed and sat on the beds. The mattresses torn down the middle and the stuffing ripped out. Ice glittered where water had been poured on the beds.

To top it off, all my roommates in my clothing was piled in the middle of the room and was nothing more than a mass of ice and cloth. Someone had poured water on the clothing or soaked it in the shower before throwing it into a pile in the middle of my room. I think someone doesn't like you. Balmer finished. No trace of his usual good humor in his Texas accent thick enough to smother someone. Nagle was moving through the room, staying in the beam of the flashlight, poking around in the wreckage that not too long before had been my room. You think?

I asked. Someone had even cut the fingers off my black gloves and torn up my trigger mittens, and then left them on my desk, a chunk of ice, to mock me. My knives were broken. The hilts and the blades laid out nice and neat on my dresser. My zippo lighter collection was destroyed. The lighters pulled apart and then crushed and then set up nice and neat on the dresser next to the knives. Three and a half and five and a quarter floppies were either broken and scattered or

around or crumpled up and thrown about. My alarm clock was smashed and then set back upright on my roommate's dresser, the hands pointing at midnight. Everything was gone. Everything I owned, everything my roommates owned, was destroyed. All three bottles of wild turkey had been broken and left on my bunk. Let's try my room, Balmer suggested after a few minutes. I nodded mutely, trying to figure out.

who had done it and why, and coming up blank. We all walked a few doors down to his room, who paused for a moment, listening to the banging noise from inside beyond the door. Balmer gave me that smile that he usually got right before he clocked someone in the face. I smiled back and drew my knife from the sheath on my belt. He turned the handle and held up three fingers, jerked my hand and folded one, did it again. Then finally made a fist. With a shout, he threw open the door and both of us charged into the room.

Bomber's windows were open, wind whipping snow in. His wall lockers were open, the doors banging back and forth. The mattresses on the bunk were bare. His wall lockers empty, even the one with his civilian clothing. His walls were bare. His roommate's lockers were empty. His TV was gone. Even his rodeo buckles were gone off the walls.

His room was bare. Only the desk, the dressers, and the beds. No three-droar chests, no desk drawers, no dresser drawers, even his bathroom was stripped bare. It was as if nobody lived there. My room, Nagel said when we looked at each other. Without bothering to search Bomber's room, we hurried to the stairwell, jogging in a our haste to get there before whoever had ripped Bomber in my room to shit got to hers. Bomber went first, banging through the door and heading for the steps,

flashlight casting wild shadows on the walls, and slipped on the first step. Bomber yelled and went face first down the stairs, bringing his arms up over his head as he pitched forward into the darkness, the flashlight flying from his hand. I thought he'd slipped on the ice, and I lunged forward to grab him. and felt my foot go out from under me right at the edge of the steps. I windmilled, reaching out and grabbing the steps going up and swinging hard against the banister. Nagel screamed Bomber's name, and Bomber cursed as he bounced off the steps. My knife fell between the stairs vanishing into the darkness with a metallic clatter.

I managed to keep from going head first down the stairs, holding onto the slick steps and breathing hard. Nagel had grabbed my jacket and was pulling me toward her, an action I was grateful for as I scrabbled for a toehold. It took a couple of seconds, but she managed to get me back onto the landing. Bomber was groaning on the halfway landing, so we knew he was alive. Nagel bent down and ran a hand over the edge of the landing, then reached down and felt the first step. They're coated with ice, thick ice, she told me. I'm fine, thanks for asking. Balmer groaned.

Assholes. Nagel and I moved down next to him, moving slowly. The flashlight had landed on the landing, casting bizarre shadows in the stairwell. Above us there was another scream, almost mocking what had just happened. Balmer had slammed into a mop bucket that hadn't been there the last time we had been on the steps, and the sight of it told us that the ice ice. on the steps wasn't an accident. That someone was supposed to go down the stairs and probably break their neck.

Or get knocked out or injured bad enough they couldn't move and then freeze to death. You alive, Texas? I asked him, squatting down next to him and rubbing his shoulder. Yeah, no worse than a bull ride. He said sitting up. I'm going after my knife. I told him, scooping up the flashlight. Balmer nodded and Nagel looked doubtful, but she didn't argue.

I looked down the steps into the darkness and had a sudden change of heart. Someone had moved from fucking with us to setting traps. What was down there in the darkness? Fuck the knife, I said, helping Balmer up. No, we go after it. He said. Why? I asked.

Right now, we're unarmed, and I don't think we want someone running around with a knife that the whole company knows is yours. Nagel answered before bomber could say anything. We need your knife. I nodded, and together we walked the flight and a half of stairs, taking it slow and shining the flashlight on the steps to watch for any more traps. At the bottom of the stairs, we found my knife laying on the floor, the matte black Gerber blade, waiting patiently for me to find it. That wasn't what had our attention. The door to the orderly room area was wedged open,

and in the light of the flashlight we could see down the short hallway to the door that led outside. It was wide open to the snowy night. Staring at the door in the hallway, I reached down and felt around till they got a hold of the knife and slowly straightened up. Footsteps were outlined in snow. Footprints that came from outside and stopped halfway to the stairwell door. Bare Footprints Chapter 6

Nagle covered her mouth, her eyes wide, and she backed up till she hit the steps and fell on her ass. Balmer was staring at the footprints, his mouth working silently. The wind went from swirling in the entryway to howling up the stairwell a split second after glass shattered high above us. I couldn't take my eyes off the footprints. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Nagel moaned. It can't be. Balmer whispered, barely audible over the wind.

Don't, I pleaded. Don't say his name. I knew right then who was fucking with us, who was stalking each of us, who had killed the four men on CQ. You, who had nearly frozen Carter to death. Carter, the only person still in the entire barracks who had been part of the first twenty, except for me. I turned to tell them something, anything, to try to deny what the snow outlined footprints told us when we heard it.

Laughter. Low, bubbling laughter. I'd read about evil, heard about it from fire and brimstone preachers in my youth. been told I was evil by my mother and thought I'd seen the aftermath of evil by coming to 2nd of the 19th. The laughter that echoed from the darkness of the stairwell above us was something that made everything I thought I knew about evil pale in comparison. The evil I'd known before was a small child holding her breath till she crapped her pants

because she was denied a pony. Silence, except for the howling of the wind, descended on the stairwell as well as we all looked at each other. We heard the rush of footsteps coming down the stairs. The banister began to shiver, and we knew what was happening. He was coming down the stairs. We moved into the orderly room hallway, and I turned, grabbed the door, and tried to pull it shut. It didn't budge. Come on, Aunt! Nagel yelled, pulling on my sleeve. Fuck this! I can take him! I snarled. I snarled. pulling my knife from the sheath. No, you can't!

Balmer yelled, grabbing me by the back of my jacket and pulling me away from the door. Come on! And we need you! Nagel said, her voice cracking with fear. We could hear him coming down the steps. We were trapped between the stairs where something dark and evil was rapidly descending towards us in the blizzard outside. Come on!

I yelled, turning and heading toward the door. We had a chance. If we kept our heads together and didn't panic, we could do it. I sheathed my knife as we headed for the door, the freezing wind bringing tears to my eyes. Kill the flashlight so we can't follow us. Are you fucking crazy? Nagel asked, flinching from the wind as the light went out and the hallway went completely black. We'll go down to the hill to the ski resort.

We can make it. I yelled, grabbing Nagel's hand. John, grab her hand and don't let go. One step out the door and the blizzard took us. The wind screamed around us, slicing through my heavy fleece-lined denim jacket like it was tanning oil. Snow smothered me, blinding me almost immediately. My face, ears, and hands went instantly numb. The wind cut through my pants and my balls felt like someone had just kicked me square.

in the sack, then gave a dull throb, then just vanished. All of it, and less than a heartbeat. I took a hard ride instead of heading straight, reaching out with my free hand to put my hand on the wall of the barracks. I squeezed Nagel's hand and moved as quickly as I could, keeping my hand on the wall. Forever passed till I felt the corner of the building, and I made sure Nagel made it, and kept moving, the incline telling me we were moving toward the front of the building. The snow made it treacherous going, and I knew if I slipped I'd lose my bearings as I rolled down the incline, past the building, and possibly across the road and into the German woods. That's what the killer was, the incline at the sides of the barracks, the 15-foot drop,

where it was so easy to slip, lose your bearings, and then freeze to death before you even understood. what had happened. I half-drug Nagle up the hill, blind, deaf, and numb. I hope she's still at a hold of bomber, my best friend. The ground leveled out, and I knew I was either crying or sobbing in relief. A handful of steps more in the next corner came. I followed it until I hit the picket fence that surrounded the lawn of the company. I pulled Nagle close and reached out till I felt John's denim jacket and pulled him close to. We're almost to the front entrance. I yelled.

Thank God. Balmer yelled back. He probably thinks we're dead. Nagel yelled. Let's go. Hold on to my jacket. I hollered back and climbed over the fence. Nagel holding on to me, throwing me off balance.

Still, once I was over, I remembered that it was left to the front of a building. if I faced the fence from the inside. Not that I was worried. I was starting to warm up. Wait. What? Oh, shit. Nagel came next, followed by bomber,

and we fumbled along the building till we found the staps in the alcove that led to the CQ area. The wind hammered at us as we fought our way up to the steps and pushed our way through the outer doors. The lack of wind felt like someone had just wrapped me in warm blankets.

We pushed open the inner doors and Balmer clicked on the flashlight. The CQ area was empty, and we all breathed a sigh of relief. Moving as silently as we could, we snuck down to Nagel's room. She reached for her key when suddenly Balmer reached out and stopped her. He shined the flashlight in his own face and shook his head, pointing at first me, than him. Nagel's eyes opened wide, and it took me a second longer to realize what he was saying. Our rooms had been trashed. God only knew what was waiting for us in Nagel's room.

I closed my eyes for a second, thinking fast, then dug my key ring out, my numb hands clumsy. I moved a couple doors down the hall and waved it bomber to shine the light at the name tag on the door. S.P.C. Stokes. I jammed my key in the lock. unlock the door, quickly opening it and waving Bomber and Nagel in, then quietly shutting the door and locking it. Nagle grabbed a chair and drug it over to the door, putting it under the door handled to keep someone from opening it even if they unlocked it. Stokes' room smelled of strawberries. Tell me this isn't happening, Bombered, clicking off his flashlight.

It's happening, Nagel said. What the fuck do we do? Balmer asked, his teeth chattering. Why that hell is he out to kill us? I don't know, but I don't think it's Tandy. I said, moving by feel over to Stokes' bed. Why the fuck not? You saw the goddamn footprints.

Balmer swore coming closer to me. I pulled her heavy quilt off her bed, watered it up, and set it on the bed. If it was Tandy, he wouldn't have fallen for it. He would have snatched us and killed us one by one when we were outside. Nagel answered for me. That's his world out there. We wouldn't have made it to the side of the building.

Bingo. I said, reaching out and grabbing bomber by the jacket. Come here, Nancy. When she bumped into me, I reached down and grabbed the heavy quilt, a gift from my brother to her, and wrapped the three of us in it. Nagel's arms snaked around me and pulled me tight against her. And a second later, Balmer was pulled tight against the two of us. Bomber was wiggling, and I wondered what the fuck he was doing.

Nothing gay, Bomber said, and I felt his fingers unbuttoning my jacket and then my flannel, finally pulling up my shirt. A second later, Nagel smothered a giggle, and I knew he was doing the same to her. Then we pressed together, shivering and shaking in the middle of Stokes' room, naked chest pressed against each other. We pressed our faces against each other, too, trying desperately to warm up. What's the plan? I asked, shaking so hard I was sure that I was going to dislocate a hip or something. Your brother's room. Nagle said, her teeth chattering.

Yeah, doesn't your brother still have your dad's pistol in his wall locker? Balmer added. He was quaking as bad as I was. Yeah, he does. and a shitload of knives. I answered. You warm up, take his cold weather gear, take his pistol, grab some knives, then go with the original plan. Nagel finished. She suddenly giggled.

What's so funny? Balmer asked. This is like one of my best masturbation fantasies, having two guys pressing up against me. She whispered, and we all smothered laughter. I don't think now is the time to. warm up that way. Balmer whispered, his voice mock serious. We stood there for a long time, shivering against one another, until I suddenly groaned in pain.

What? Nagel asked, sounding afraid. I can feel my balls again. I groaned. It felt like a ball of lead in my stomach. My balls throbbed and my cocks suddenly felt like it was on fire. That's a good sign. Nagel whispered.

My nipples feel like someone tried to bite them off. Ha, tough luck suckers. I don't feel anything like... Balmer suddenly groaned and sagged, forcing me and Nagel to hold him up. Oh, God! Someone is squeezing my balls! Finally, we were warm enough and not in pain enough to move around. We put Stokes' blanket back on her bed,

dug out a towel from her dresser and dried our hair, then moved over by the door. We listened closely, moved the chair, and eased the door open. Above us, a scream sounded out, but we ignored it and slipped out into the hallway. Lock it? Balmer asked. No, leave it. We might need somewhere to run again, Nagel said. Good plan, I agreed.

We'd agreed to go to the inn stairwell. and we moved quickly and quietly to the heavy door. It was propped open, and wind howled down the stairwell. For once, it was going to work for us. We slipped up the stairs, being careful to watch for ice or anything else, and snuck into the second floor hallway. My brother's room was only a few doors down. I counted doors and waited for Bomber to catch up with the flashlight.

He shined the line on the door nameplate just to be sure. There his name was. I put my key in the lock and went to turn it. And it didn't budge. I tried again both ways, but it didn't move at all. I went to pull the key out, and it slipped out of my hand. What the fuck? I asked.

Balmer shined the light on the lock, and all three of us groaned at once. Clear, thick liquid had welled up around my key, A single drop slowly creeping down the face of the lock from beneath my key. Just to make sure I reached down and touch the drop with my finger, then rubbed my finger and thumb together. They stuck. Super glue. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast,

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