Creepy - 50 Foot Ant's First Story Chapters 9 & 10

Episode Date: April 25, 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 our simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories make me. graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised.

He presents 50-foot ant's first story. Credited to 50-foot ant on something awful and narrated by Atticus Jackson. Chapter 9 John folded around the accent all with an oof! Pulling it out of the figure. his hands and going face first into the snow, his hands at his midsection. The figure laughed, nothing more than a formless shape in the darkness. John's flashlight had fallen, so it shone on the snowman who smiled at us with his empty

heads full of snow and secrets. Motherfucker! I yelled, lunging forward. The figure whirled, and I had a hand on it for a second, grabbing a handful of cloth that was torn out of my grasp as it darted into the stair. Well, Aunt, come back! Nagel yelled, but I was past hearing her. The figure ran up the stairs, and I followed, grabbing the banister on the landing and swinging around in 180 to follow and maintain my momentum.

And ran into the heel of a boot. It smashed into my mouth, and my nose crunched. Blood filled my mouth and sheeted down my face as I stumbled back against the wall, and threw my myself forward again, fury filling me. Killed my best friend! The figure turned, but I got a hand on its back, grabbing the cloth and pulling. It crashed into me into the darkness, and we both went down, them on top of me. An elbow hit my forehead, but I shrugged it off, trying to wrap one arm around the figure's throat,

kicking with my feet as we were struggling in the darkness of the stairwell landing. The elbow hit me again, this time in my nose, and everything went gray for a second, my hands dropping limply to the floor as I lost where I was for a second. A blow hit my face again, and pain filled me. The jet hit, and flames surrounded me, snatching the breath from my lungs, searing my flesh. I knew my hair was gone, and I squeezed my eyes shut, still pounding forward. trying to get out of the fire before it consumed me. With a roar I opened my eyes again, seeing the figure sit up on top of me,

long inhuman arms reaching down and hands wrapping around my throat as they leaned forward and put the pressure on me. Aye. Their hands weren't quite seated, but I could see the white of their teeth pulled back in a maniacal grin in the darkness of the hallway. refuse. Nagel was yelling, the flashlight beam skittering around the stairwell, silhouetted the figure's head but not revealing who it was. Two!

They figured they'd won. I was on my back and they thought dazed, laying on the stairwell landing. Die! My hands came up between their arms and swept outward, just as I'd been taught, collapsing their arms at the end. elbows. In the same motion I grabbed the back of their head in my hands and I heard them squawk and surprise. This, I brought my head up as I pulled them down, still roaring in fury. Around me, fire roared and people screamed, while the stench of burning jet fuel and roasted flesh filled my nostrils. God forsaken! They screamed as my foreseen. They screamed as my foreshed.

forehead hit their face, and I felt teeth cut my forehead. They punched at me as I let them pull back, and then did it again, feeling something crunch against my brow. Place! They rolled off me, kicking, and the toe of a boot caught my shin even through the padding of the coveralls. I didn't care, and I drove my fist twice more into their head. Neither of them perfect shots, since they glanced off the person's head, but more than enough.

to keep fighting. Anne! Nagel's voice was a scream. I saw the dim flash of steel reflected in Nagel's frantically searching light, and instead of going for the knife, I brought up one arm to block it. First rule, son, is that you're going to get cut.

My father's voice echoed from when all of us boys were lined up learning another lesson at his knee. My other hand reached out, fingers finding the ear. The shock of the knife hitting my forearm made my shoulder groan in the socket. If he'd gotten me with the blade, I didn't care. My thumb pressed into the dent, and I crooked it, pushing as hard as I could, and I felt it sink into the socket, the eyeball squishing to the side.

They screamed that time, the knife falling next to my head, and a punch drove my head against the tile, and I was surrounded by flames. and dying again, and roared with rage back at whoever it was. Still, my arms dropped again, and I knew I was running out of steam. I roared in denial as the flames surged around me, and I felt the searing heat on my back, and punched them in the face, aiming for the teeth I could still see clearly, and bright pain burst between my knuckles. They fell back, and I rolled over, trying to get up.

But they were faster and above me. They kicked me twice, scrambling up, and the second shot caught me under the chin, snapping my head back into the tile. I sat back up and drove a punch into the knee, reaching around behind me frantically. My hand found the knife they dropped, the other one trying to block the kicks they were flailing at me,

ignoring the ones aimed at my ribs and stomach and protecting my face. The boots thudded into my ribs, and I yelled in triumph as my hands wrapped around the hilt. I brought it around and slashed them across the shin, but another kick caught me on the side of my neck, and my already numb and bruised body jerked. I got the knife up and got ready to defend myself. But they were scrabbling away, up the stairs,

and I could hear them sobbing as I pulled myself up. Muscles screamed, and my vision swam, and I knew blood was running down my face, but I didn't care in the slightest. I've got you now, motherfucker, hissed through my brain. I took one step when I heard her. And? Nagel, her voice filled with fear and dismay.

My attacker, or her and my probably dead best friend. Damn it. I turned and went down the stairs, stopping when Nagel turned and fell. faced me from where she was crouched down next to bomber, bent over and rocking back and forth while she was sobbing, the matte black of my Gerber fighting knife in her fist. She looked at me, then turned to face me, straightening up. Is he? I asked.

My fucking gut hurts! John moaned, rolling over. The axe was embedded in the layers of coveralls. Don't say anything. Let me see the wound. I said, falling to my knees next to him. He was my best friend. He'd been there through everything.

Even when I got divorced, he'd been there. The drink, the shoulder to cry on, with an outstretched hand to pull me to my feet and support to help me carry on. He was my best friend. I loved him. I pulled his hand off the axe and dug my fingers into the cloth, terrified at how deep the wound had. terrified at how deep the wound had to have gone.

And found, the axe stopped. What the fuck? I asked and pulled the axe free. No bleeding. And I unzipped his coveralls and pulled them open. The axe had hit the flak vests we'd wrapped underneath the top layers of the coveralls. The vests we'd used to break the wind and add to more padding. The wide blade.

The way John folded around it. All of it made it so the axe didn't penetrate the twin layers of thick Kevlar. I thought you were dead, you fucker. I yelled, fury surging over the relief. Nagel laughed. Sitting there in the dark with the wind howling around us, she began laughing. Tears were rolling down her grease-covered cheeks, blown to the side by the wind. I started laughing too.

It's not funny. My stomach really hurts. John groaned, and I held out a hand and pulled him into a sitting position. I thought you were dead, you fucker. I said, still chuckling. The wind agreed, chuckling as the gust wound down and it picked at us, plucking at our clothing and trying to worm cold fingers in with us. So did I.

John admitted. He looked at his stomach where there was only a red mark. Hurts like a motherfucker. Be right back, Nagel said, standing up. She shined her flashlight behind the CQ counter before going around it and checked the handle in the closet. I watched her shine her flashlight inside and squeezed John's hand. I hadn't let go of him, and part of me didn't want to. I watched the doors to the outside.

Both sets open to the night, and John kept an eye on the staircase door in the hallway door. Nagel came back shaking her head. What? I asked. Gages are smashed. So is the breaker box. She told us, and I shipped my head. It's not him. I told them.

Whoever it was, there wasn't anything supernatural about them. Nagel shined the light in my face, and bomber whistled. Whoever it was, fucked your ass up. Yeah. But if it's one of us, we'll fucking know. I told her, smiling. I wrecked him up good enough that he won't be able to hide it. We need to get back to the others, Palmer said,

and I nodded, scooping up a handful of snow and pressing it on my nose. That made me hiss in pain, the pressure of my hand making sparks appear in my vision. Just a second. Nagel snarled and began kicking down the snowmen. I could hear her panting with exertion, but Balmer and I just watched. Now we can go. She said, stepping back from the massacred snow people. Balmer and I nodded, and we went down the hallway through both sets of double doors all the way to the end stairway.

The first stairway might have John's attacker or their friends in it. The second one had been booby-trapped before, but so far the third one had been safe. We checked the steps quickly, shining our lives. lights on the steps and then the landing, but didn't find anything. Why isn't this one fucked with? I wondered. They need one they can use to move up and down quickly. John answered as we climbed the steps.

He stopped and bent over slightly, breathing heavy. I think I'm hurt, Aunt. Drive on, John. It isn't much further. I told him. Nagel pushed by him and moved ahead to the landing, opening the door to the second floor hallway and looked out. of it.

Shit. She breathed freezing in place. Oh my God. Aunt Bomber. She whispered, and the tone held something I'd never heard from Nagel in the years I'd known her. Terror. I moved up and looked out in the hallway.

Another snowman faced the stairs in front of us. Its arms were sticks taken from the trees outside. The buttons were Class A. brass buttons. It wore a BDU soft cap with E5 rank on it. Its mouth was made of something that glinted wetly. Its nose was a shattered flashlight, and the eyes were surrounded by pink snow. The eyes were blue and covered with a thin sheen of ice.

Its human eyes. Chapter 10 The blue eyes stared at us, hugely. round and pushed into the face of the snowman, whose smile mocked us with good cheer. The wet strip was a strip of uniform, too dark for water that glittered in the light. It hadn't been here before we'd headed into the motor pool. Let's go, Nagel said, her voice only a little unsteady. I looked at the snowman's face again and swallowed around a huge lump in my throat.

Quietly, she hissed. She led the way into the hallway, moving slowly, shining her light carefully on the walls, on the floor, and on the ceiling. Balmer and I edged by it, the blue eyes staring at us as we went by, surrounded by pink snow. Human eyes! Icicles hung from the tile ceiling and from the plastic covering the fluorescent light fixtures. Balmer suddenly fell against the wall and vomited. everything he'd eaten the day before coming up in a steaming rush. Bile splashed on the wall and the floor, steaming in the cold, and he started to fold forward.

I rushed forward and grabbed him, pulling him to his feet. Come on, John, keep moving. I whispered. I'm really hurt, Aunt. He moaned as I threw his arm over my shoulder. That axe had hit him hard. He'd gotten his arms in the way And managed to half catch the axe handle

He'd folded around it and bled away some of the force And the Kevlar had kept the bit from ripping into him But I'd seen that swing Nagel stayed just in front of us Sometimes looking back As we took forever to stumble halfway down the hallway Just a quarter block Finally we were at the door

And Nagel knocked on it and waited She knocked again this time harder and still we waited. Footsteps thudded above us, heavy, deliberate thuds that went from behind us toward the other end of the building. A scream echoed down the hall, the wind making my eyes water.

The doors that divided the hallway in half were open, or the stairwell door was wedged open. That was the only way the wind could be that strong. Who's out there? Came a voice. Hernandez. "'It's Nagel, Ant and Bomber. "'Open up, Bomber's hurt,' she said.

"'There was a moment of silence, "'and then the locks to the door snapped loudly "'in the darkness of the hallway. "'The door creaked open, "'and I could see Hernandez staring at first Nagel, "'and then Bomber and me. "'Bomber took that second to throw up again. "'Hurry up, there's someone out there.'

"'Hernandez whispered, "'stepping back and motioning us frantically. No shit. Nagel sneered, pushing Bomber and I through the door. Hernandez's face was blurry in the flashlight, and if I moved my head too fast, I kept getting spark shooting across my vision. Even the dim light from his flashlight was bright and hurt my eyes. We staggered in, and I heard the door locked behind us.

I pulled John into the living area of the barracks room, past the bathroom and wall lockers that were built into the walls. People were huddled in small groups, and on the bed, Lewis was still burrowed under the covers with Carter. One of them was snoring, and part of me dimly knew that it was a good sign. What happened? Where have you been? Hernandez asked. Nagel ignored him, walking across the room and grabbing the handle of the radiator and cranking it.

There was a loud knocking noise that seemed to start a thousand feet below us, slowly work its way up to the radiator, which trembled and shook as insane howler monkeys beat on the pipes with clubs. What the fuck? Jacobs asked, shining his light in bombers in my faces. I'll explain in a minute, Nagle said. Hernandez, get a wet washcloth. I need to clean off their faces.

She came over and grabbed my arm. Aunt, bomber, I need the two of you to sit down on the bed. She gently guided us over to the edge of the bed that Daniels was sleeping on. We sat down and Nagel prodded Daniels till he sleepily scooted away from us. Daniels. Hernandez came back and Nagel took the washcloth from him and handed him her flashlight. Keep it on Ant's face. Lewis.

Jesus, what happened to him? Hernandez asked. Jacobs. He got his asses. kicked in the stairwell after someone hit bomber in the stomach with an axe. Nagel snapped, starting to wipe off my face. Hernandez. She pulled down my lower lip and swore.

You've got a bunch of broken teeth, aunt. She told me, wiping my lip. God damn it, you're bleeding everywhere, and I can't get that fucking grease off of you. An axe? They hit bomber with an axe? Jacobs asked, looking over at Bomber, who was still a little. leaning against me with his arms wrapped around his stomach. He was moaning softly to himself and rocking back and forth, and I put one arm around him

and pulled him close. Yeah, Nagle answered, her voice flat and cold. Someone tried to kill him. Carter. Who? Hernandez asked. How the fuck should I know? Whoever it was beat the shit out of Aunt Two.

She stopped in the middle of her. wiping off my forehead. Hey, Des, shine the light here. Hernandez did what she asked. She leaned forward, one finger reaching out to touch something that seemed to feel like it was embedded in my brain, but she was poking her finger in there and rooting around. God damn, aunt. You have a tooth stuck in your forehead, man.

Jacob said, coming over and standing next to Nagel. Bastard kicked me. I slurred. The whole room stunk of jet fuel. But something was wrong. Something important. Both Nagels were scrubbing off my face. Two head and four arms connected to one too wide body.

I know, honey, she said. Then turn to Hernandez. Wake Lewis up. Get his sewing kit and see if he has any rubbing alcohol for spit shining his boots in the bathroom. Hernandez nodded. And she went back to wiping my face, carefully circling my nose. And see if he has a leatherman.

Stomach hurts. Balmer groaned and leaned forward and wretched loudly, bringing up only strings of bile. Nagel shined the flashlight into the small puddle he made and sighed with relief. It was a clear yellowish color. My stomach rumbled in agreement, and before I could stop myself or warn her, I leaned forward and threw up on the floor,

splashing Nagel where she knelt in front of me. I only heaved a few times and it made my head swim, with bright sparks across my vision, and I almost passed out from the pain in my head. Oh, baby, Nagel said, reaching her arms out and gathering both of us up. She was still dressed in the cover-alls, the cold dampness feeling good against my face.

I was aware I was shivering, cold but somehow light and fuzzy warm. My head rang and my thoughts were jumbled. What the fuck? Daniels asked, rolling over. He shoved at my back. Get the fuck off my bed. I collapsed against Nagel, boneless, closing my eyes.

My head hurt really bad. Get up, Daniels. Ant and bomber are fucked up. Jacob said. Christ, he's bleeding everywhere. I felt Daniel's moving around behind me, every movement making my skull hurt and ring. I cried out in pain as the bed rocked,

and both Balmer and I wretched again. Help me lay them down. Nagle ordered, and I felt hands on me. We got to get them out of these clothes. You two stripped them. I got to get out of these wet clothes. I got some blankets. Hernandez.

sad, and I felt someone unzipping my clothing. I fought briefly, crying out and trying to get their hands off me. I was trapped in the stairwell, fighting someone I couldn't see, with flames roaring around me, people screaming, and the stench of jet fuel filling my nostrils. I felt lips against mine, and I opened my eyes to see Nagel kissing me. Her eyes shot as her tongue grazed my lips. I let her strip my clothing away, marveling at how it felt like she had four or five hands. My boots were pulled off, and I was aware of her stripping off my wet socks and underwear. She stopped kissing me, and I pawed at the air, trying to get her back. Easy, aunt. I'll be there in a second. I got undress.

She whispered huskily. He's got a really bad bruise on his stomach. Jacob said, and my hands moved down, looking for the bruise they were talking about, and finding that I'd been stripped naked. I rubbed my stomach, looking for sore spots, and trying to warm up my hands. Someone laid a warm blanket around me, and I shivered on the bed. Damn it, that axe must have heard him worse than... Nagel's voice trailed off into a purring noise, and I squirmed under the blanket,

feeling someone's hands on my stomach. There was silence for a moment. Just a buzzing background noise. A thick noise that seemed to increase or decrease at random. But I knew it was important even if I didn't know what the noise was or why it was important. A sharp pain yanked me out of the memory of Nagel rubbing her breasts on my chest, and I tried to pull loose of the hands that were holding me, tried to pull my head loose from the pressure that was holding the side of my face against the bed.

Hold him still, God damn it! Someone screamed. Their voice jagged broken glass that ripped and tore my eardrums and then lacerated my brain. The pain stopped, and I tried to curl in a ball to cry. My mother had been beating me, and I'd managed to crawl under my bed where nobody could see me cry from the welts the belt had left on my back. Fuzzy warmth wrapped around me and drugged me down. It was like I was slipping into warm, dark bathwater.

I was tired, so tired, and my head was pounding. I could feel myself floating deeper and deeper into the water. There were loud noises around me, but they were distant, remote, just faint ripples in the warm water that surrounded me, cradled me, and drew me into its warm water. warmed deaths. You're dying, dumbass. My brother's rough voice suddenly intruded.

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