Creepy - A Favor for a Favor

Episode Date: January 13, 2020

Just a small favor...***Written by Vincent Vena Cava and guest narrated by Adal Rifai and Cynthia Reinhardt***Read more from VVV at https://www.amazon.com/dp/0692840419/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_apa_i_rd5cEb939TBDR***Check out our reward tiers at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Produced by Steve Blizin***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.

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This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous, chilling and disturbing creepy pastures and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened, or Mount Sinai. Simply Fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy Presents

A Favor for a Favor Written by Vincent Viena Kava and guest narration by Adlerafai and Cynthia Reinhardt. It must have been the most run-down, filth-ridden, motel room I had ever seen. The kind of place where cockroaches didn't feel the need to scatter at the flash of a light bulb. I wouldn't be surprised if a whole civilization of the nasty things were living between the walls, laying the repulsive egg sacks wherever they pleased and multiplying faster than an Asian kid

on Adderall. I was seated at the edge of the bed, shifting uncomfortably atop its warp mattress while trying to ignore the rank funk radiating from a pile of unwashed sheets bundled up in the corner. It was a type of room people did everything but sleeping. That was fine by me. I wasn't there for shut eye anyway. In my left hand was a half-drunk bottle of Jack Daniels. In my right was a 32-caliber Smith & Wesson.

The extraordinarily depressing location was poetically fitting it away. I was extraordinarily depressed after all. It was my wife who was the cause of my misery. She had broken my heart. leaving me with nothing but a vacant, grief-stricken soul, like a teenager who listens to follow a boy and writes poetry on Tumblr. For a while, suspicions and infidelity had loomed over our marriage, but I had always chalked out my conjectures as nothing more than paranoid delusions.

They say denial is the best remedy for heartache. It wasn't until I stumbled across a series of implicitly sexual emails between her and the pastor of our church, a married man in his own right, that I was faced with the morbid reality of my wife's secrets escapades. Pastor Alonzo was a slick, fast-talking, cut-throat shark who dressed more like a U.S. senator than a man of the cloth. He pulled in a far bigger salary than one might expect a holy man to earn. A lot of people would be surprised to find out just how profitable the preaching business can

be, especially when you head up to second biggest megachurch in California. Lonzo had a taste for life's opulent luxuries, and wasn't afraid to flaunt it. It wasn't uncommon for him to drive a Mercedes-Benz to church or a show-off his collection of Rolex watches during Sunday service. I guess that's why my wife gravitated towards him. She always did have a weak spot for material things. There was one thing that all the pastor's money couldn't buy him, though. Kids of his own. His wife, Darcy's on again, off again, battle with the Big Sea,

I thrown a monkey wrench into his plans to start a family. Recently, her cancer had taken a turn for the worse, and while she lied up in the hospital on her deathbed, the pastor and my wife were getting together for some extra Bible study sessions. When I confronted my wife about the emails, things got ugly. Names were called, explicitives were hurled, and threats were thrown out, by her mostly. she explained to me that the pastor invited her and the kids to move in with him once darcy passed and offered my better half it accepted she said she was going to give him the family he always wanted it just so happened that family was mine

i didn't have the money to fight a long drawn-out custody battle or hire some big-time lawyers but pastor alonzo did couple that with the fact women usually win these kinds of disputes even if they don't always deserve it And you can see why things were looking so bleak for me. Another man had stolen my wife, my children, my life. And there was nothing I could do about it. The room slowly started spinning, and I realized my good friend Jack was up to his old tricks again. Nage was beginning to settle in, and I didn't want to spend my last moments alive vomiting the Carl's Jr. Cheeseburger I'd wolfed down an hour earlier. So I decided to stop stalling and finish what I came there for.

I placed a revolver's barrel in my mouth and rested my finger on the trigger. In case you're wondering if my life flashed before my eyes, allow me to be perfectly blunt. It didn't. And I was thankful for that, too. I could think of a million things I'd rather be doing than relive in the agony that a woman had put me through. I shut my eyes as tight as possible in preparation for the bullet to pass through my brain. They say he who hesitates is lost. In short, the proverb means that spending too much time deliberating on an important decision

can ultimately lead to disastrous consequences. Although in my case, one tiny moment of pause may have actually prevented said consequences and saved my life. The cold metallic taste of the revolver's barrel on my tongue caused me to question my actions for only the briefest of seconds. But sometimes even that can be more than enough time to change a man's fortunes. As I sat there, trying to talk myself. into pulling the trigger. The telephone in my motel room began to ring. I slid the gun out of my

mouth, sat good old jack down on the nightstand, and answered the phone. Hello? I said in my best possible not about to kill myself, voice. Jacob, I'm so glad you picked up. I had no idea who the voice on the other line belonged to. I'd never heard it before. But whoever it was, they seemed to know me. Listen, Jake, before you're walls with the inside of your skull, we need to have a talk first. I hadn't told anyone where I planned on being that evening. This guy not only knew my name and location, but even the fact I was contemplating punching my ticket at the big Toga party in the sky. Had he been watching me? I needed some answers.

Using every working brain cell in my head, I came up with the most rational, thought-out, intelligent question I could construct. Uh, what? Now sit tight, I'm on my way over to your room right now. And with that, he hung up the phone. I stared blankly at the wall, completely dumbfounded. My mind's still trying to process what happened. I wondered for a moment if I had just been victim of a prank call. It seemed from our short conversation that the guy on the other end of the line had been watching me.

My first inclination was that he might have been some sort of pervert. after all the motel wasn't exactly a four-star accommodation. And I did notice the place looked to be a magnet for weirdos, freaks, and other types of seedy characters when I checked in. I took a swig, liquid courage. For some reason, I always felt braver when Jack was around. The knock on the door nearly caused me to lose control of my bowels. That double western bacon cheeseburger was coming out one way or the other.

I tried to convince myself I was being erotic, but something about the call made me feel uneasy. I become aware of a dark and explicable feeling that began bubbling from within the pit of my stomach the moment the phone first rang. An awful combination of dread, fear, hate, and a myriad of other terrible emotions all simmering together into some kind of unspeakable brew. Who is it? I called out.

No one answered. I waited for response, then tried again. This time with a little more bass in my voice. Who is it? I stood up from the bed. The gun tucked into the waistband of my pants and zipped up my jacket, making sure it was properly concealed before making my way towards the door. I said, who is it?

Housekeeping. The voice on the other side of the door sounded like it belonged to an elderly Hispanic woman. Oh. I chuckled at myself for letting a maid get me so riled up. Please come back later. Thank you. Housekeeping. I said, come back later, please.

You want she? By this point, the woman was seriously trying my patience. Either she didn't speak English or she was a complete moron. I come in? Clean toilet? There's a sign on the doorknob, can't you read? I swing open the door ready to give the woman a peace of my mind. It says, do not just... There was no one in the hall.

I leaned my head out of the room, to see if the irritating maid wasn't bothering some other poor sap. But the corridor was completely barren. Convinced that I'd officially lost my mind, I treated back inside and closed the door behind me. Not a second later, the knocking started up again. Housekeeping! Go away!

I shouted at the top of my lungs. Where did she come from? Just moments earlier, I was alone in the halls. I changed towels? Listen, just please leave me alone! There's no way in hell I'm letting you in! It was getting harder and harder to ignore the strange dark sensation that was still stewing inside my stomach. I said, go away!

Once more I opened the door and once more, there was not a cleaning woman in sight. This time, however, I was not alone. Doubled over and laughter before me was a teenage boy, no older than 16. He was wearing a four-screen hoodie and a matching flat-filled baseball cap tilted off to the side. A fashion choice that made him look spectacularly dushy. His baggy jeansigged halfway down his ass, exposing a pair of striped boxers and extending his dushiness even further. A black bandana hung out of his back pocket as if he was some kind of gangbanger. I found this to be particularly stupid since he appeared to be the type of suburban white kid whose mom drove him to soccer practice in a minivan.

Can I help you? I grunted. I was about ten seconds away from ringing the little twerp's neck. By the way, he was convulsing in laughter. It was clear that he was the mastermind behind my harassment. Oh, man. He managed to squeeze out between breaths. You should have seen yourself.

You look like you got caught with your dick and the family goat. What? The boy wiped a tear from his eye and took a deep breath and attempted to rain in his laughter. Dan, did that go over your head? Sorry, now that I think about it, the expression is a little before your time. It originated in Scotland in the mid-1700s. A lot more people owned goats back then, so I guess it used to be funnier. When you've been around as long as I have, it's hard to stay caught up with the latest lingo.

What are all the kids saying these days? Jake is Yolo still a thing? You know what? Never mind. I came here to talk to you about something else. May I come in? No, you may not. I extended my arm across the door frame to block the entrance of my room.

Why don't you get the hell out of here, kid? I'm busy. Oh, yes, I can see that, but I'll only take a minute of your time. The boy ducked under my arm, scrambling past me before I could stop him. Once inside he paused for a moment, surveying the room and smiling snidly to himself. Jeez, Jake, this place is a dump. Why the blazes would you blow your brains out here? I personally would have chosen the Ritz Carlton uptown if I was going to off myself,

but not before ordering some of those delicious sweet potato truffle fries in the bar in the lobby. Um, yum, yum, yum, yum, yum, yeah. You got about three seconds to get out of here, kid. Oh, I'm shaking in my boots. He giggled briefly, then continued. Honestly, man, intimidation isn't your forte. I promise, I'll leave in a second, but as I said before, I wanted to have a little chat first. What do you want?

to help you out. You can help me by getting out of my room. Oh, a bit snippy, aren't we? Jacob, I know you've had a rough day, but it doesn't have to end the way you think it does. So what if your wife hurt you? Buck up! There is a way to remedy this situation.

It was then that I realized the darkness inside me had never gone away. Instead, it had been flourishing, spreading from my core as it pervaded throughout the rest of my body. How did this kid know some of my body? about me. For a second time that evening I was so rattled I could hardly spit out a sentence. Who are you? He leaned in and cupped an ear like an old man who's hearing it waned over time. Were you... Was I watching you? Is that what you're going to say? Learn to enunciate, man. Sorry to interrupt, but if I let you do all the talking, we're going to be here all night. And believe

me, when I tell you, I've got other places to be... Now that... Why don't I answer your second question first? Yes, I was watching you, but not in a creepy staring at you through the window kind of way. You know, like Ryan Gosling and Drive? Oh, Deep Sigh. Do you ever see that movie? It's surprisingly good. And that Gosling always got chops, I tell you, and buns.

Yum, Yum, Squeeze, Swee. The guy is so damn handsome, too. Some lucky bastards just hit the jackpot in the genetic lottery. Am I right? Well, not you, but Gossling. The kid was giving me a bad vibe. I slipped my hand into my jacket pocket and felt through the fabric for the handle of my revolver. All the while, he continued to blabber senselessly about how the Mickey Mouse Club was the greatest thing to ever happen in the entertainment industry.

I needed to somehow get control of the situation. Shut the hell up, kid! You better give me some straight answers right now! Why were you watching me? The kid's smile quickly disappeared. He scanned me up and down, probing me with his eyes as if he was. he's examining every inch of my body. A look of utter disgust on his face.

It was bizarre. His very stare made me feel ashamed and violated. More questions, huh? First off, you should probably make sure the hammer isn't cocked on that little lemon squeezer of yours. You're going to shoot your dick off, and then you really have a reason to kill yourself. Somehow he knew about the gun I was hiding under my coat.

I ends up my jacket and pulled it out from my pants. He was right. I had left it cocked. I was watching you because I saw a doomed soul, a lost spirit, so to speak, who was about to let the bad guys win, and I just couldn't bring myself to allow you to do it. He mozied over to the television and dragged his finger down the screen, leaving a spotless streak across otherwise dust-cover glass. Take it from a guy who's been there before.

I know exactly how you feel right now. I, too, have been betrayed by someone I loved. Oh, cast it down and thrown out in favor of another. He paused for a moment, looking down at the dust that collected on his fingertip. But I haven't answered your first inquiry yet. Have I? Who am I? Well, that's a loaded question. No pun intended. Take the bullets out. I'm a man of many avataps. Over the years, I've been known as the bearer of light, the son of perdition. Even the proud one.

In a story, he once wrote Washington Irving. referred to me as old Nick. Isn't that kind of fun? I have been anointed a prince while at the same time branded a beast. You're telling me that you're the... Pleased to meet you! Hope you guessed my own name!

But that's impossible. Why? You go to church, don't you? Is it so hard to believe that asinine little book, the one you people so arrogantly proclaimed to be God's true word, actually got something right? Don't go petting yourself on the back for being a Christian. though. The Bible's filled with more half-truths and garbage than supermarket tabloid. I was completely taken aback by what the boy was saying. A couple minutes earlier, I was getting ready to lodge a bullet in my brain.

Now I was talking to a teenager who just declared himself to be the embodiment of evil. If you're the devil, then why do you look like a kid? Why not? I do as I please. I can appear as whatever or whoever I want. You think this is weird? Once I made myself look like a snake just so I could talk to a hot naked chick. Yep, but it doesn't make any sense. Neither did Carlos Mencia's comedy career, but it happened anyways. By the way, I assure you, I had nothing to do with that. He shook his head.

I suppose it's proof you require, huh? I miss the old days where you people would blindly take me for my word. It made it so much easier to cheat at poker. The boy gave me a mischievous wink. All right, why don't you pick up the phone? There's someone who needs to speak with you. Not a second later, a shrill ear-splitting sound covered. through the motel room.

The telephone on the end table was ringing. I shot a skeptical look over the teenager. He was holding his hand to his ear as if there was an invisible phone in it. Hello? I said as I picked up the call. The boy's lips moved, but I could hear the cleaning woman's voice over the telephone. He burst into a fiddle laughter. I was floored.

I tried to play a cool, but I'm certain he could read the shock on my face. Check this one out. He cleared his throat. I'm leaving you, Jacob. Now he sounded like my wife. Pastor Alonzo has a bigger house than you. As a matter of fact, that's not the only thing that's bigger. This sentiment to another round of giggles.

After he had his laugh, his voice returned to normal. Not bad, right? I mean, I'm no Danny Gans, but I bet I could still play the Nuggets. When he said that, he smiled. It was just a little too wide. wider than a mouth should stretch. Ever so briefly, I caught a glimpse of his teeth. This is if hundreds of tiny dayhakers were protruding from his gums.

He shifted his head ever so slightly, and his peculiar facial features had disappeared. Once again, he looked like a typical teenager. You can't have my soul. It's not for sale. The boy scoffed. Come now, do you really think I just go around buying people's souls from them, ye have little faith in humanity, Jacob.

Most people are too smart to fall for that kind of thing. What's a lifetime of happiness compared to an eternity in hell? Then why are you here? Like I said, I do as I please. And it would please me very much to do a favor for you. No contracts or souls involved. Honest Engine. What kind of favor?

He turned and started out the door. Why don't you accompany me for a walk and I'll explain. Oh, and bring that little pistol with you. As the boy exited my room, I picked up the phone and held it to my ear. I didn't hear a dial tone, so I followed a court only to find it wasn't even plugged into the wall. Jack was still sitting on the nightstand waiting to provide consultation for me if I needed it. He was going to have to wait just a little longer. I followed the boy out the door.

I caught up to him halfway down the hall, and together we headed down the rusty metal stairs that led to the parking lot. I see that you're in a bit of a bind, Jacob. Your wife of 15 years is leaving you for that idiot pastor and taking the kitties with her. What were their names again? Oh, yes, Hunter and Elizabeth, such darling children. Can I just say? Leave my kids alone. I blurted out.

My unexpected outbursts surprised even myself, but hearing him mention my kids by name it set me off. He stopped halfway down the stairs and jabbed a bony finger into my chest. Listen here, Toad guy, just because I might have to be. to look like a boy band Reject at the moment. Doesn't mean I won't turn into some sort of ten-foot-tall of crafty and monstrosity. And punch you to make it off if you continue to disrespect me. Capish? I nodded my head.

Good. I don't know what all the fuss was about anyways. I love children. I'd have one of my own, but it's so hard to find a suitable candidate to bear the Antichrist. There's something about heralding in a millennium of hell on earth and bringing about the apocalypse. It just turns most women off. The only people who volunteer for the job are nutballs and wackos. And trust me, Jake, I don't want no baby mama drama any more than you do. I think he was making a joke because he paused for a second and glanced over me as if he was expecting to hear laughs.

He continued talking once he realized I didn't find him amusing. If you ask me, you have three options. Option number one. You go back to your room and blow your brains out. You never see your kids again, and your wife continues, fucking the bastard. Oh, he for hookah, I'm coming. Option number two, you don't do anything. Like a pussy, you go back to your boring and now, lonely existence.

You'll see your kids the second Saturday of every month, and your wife continues fucking a pastor. I suppose this is where you tell me about options three. When we made it to the base of the stairs, he gestured towards a parking lot indicating the direction he wanted to walk. Smart man. He chortled. Option number three, it is.

You take that 32 caliber Smith and Wesson over to the pastor's McMansion tonight. Your wife's there right now. Loving it. Discussing church business? He made a set of quotations in the air with his fingers when he said that. I'm sure he's got her down on her knees, taking communion as we speak. You know, accepting the holy body inside her mouth and all that. Okay, okay, I get it, but that's a terrible joke.

We weren't even Catholics. What are you trying to say? You want me to kill Pastor Alonzo? Kill the pastor, kill your wife, hell, kill this annoying little shih Tzu while you're at it. But you have to kill them, Jacob. Don't let them take your children from you. End their lives for trying to ruin yours. I'd do it for you, but, nah, raspberries.

No killing is one of the few rules I'm bound by on this miserable plane of existence. I had to admit. It was an idea that would cross my mind earlier that night. More of a fantasy than anything. I never actually consider going through with it. But that would be a sin. Now that I know hell exists, there's no way I do anything to risk damnation.

Look who you're talking to, Jacob. Don't you think I have a little bit of pull down there? For this one particular night, I will absolve all your sins. Think of it as a get-out-of-jail-free card, and don't worry about the fuzz either. I have friends in high places. You won't even be considered a person of interest

in the murder investigation. I couldn't believe I was even entertaining the idea. I had become so engrossom what the satanic little douchebag was proposing that I didn't even realize he was leading us to my car until we were standing right in front of it. So if it's not my soul you want, what are you getting out of this? Ah, I see my reputation proceeds me. Like I said before, I'm just doing you a solid man. He stuck his fist out waiting for me to bump it. I left the devil hanging.

Maybe one day in the future, you'll repay the favor. Or not. You certainly wouldn't be obligated to. What kind of favor? I don't know. Pick up my dry cleaning. I haven't thought of it yet. Who cares?

I may never even bother you after tonight. I reminisced back when my wife and I were young. We were so in love and now I was standing in a parking lot under the neon lights of the world's dirtiest roach motel, letting the baby-faced demon talk me into murdering her. How did it come to this? She's my wife. Part of me still loves her.

I don't know if I could do anything that would harm the mother of my children. He rolled his eyes. Oh, and clearly she loves you too. Why else would she be on her back right now and that past her flower into next week? When he said that, his voice got deeper. A thousand octaves lower than anything I'd ever heard in my life. The sound was maddening. It made me want to bury my fingers into my ear canals until my eardrums burst.

Your adulterous whore of a wife sins with that slimy, toothless, sorry excuse for a human being actually speak! If that wasn't enough, she plans on taking your children and half your money, and for what? Because you don't have a big house with a fancy car. She used to until something better came along, and he did the same to his wife. Hell is filled with men and women like that. Send them back where they belong. It felt as though his voice was microwaving.

my brain from the inside. I grabbed my head and fell to my niece. That pastor sings in God's name with your wife and you want to let them get away with it? Send them that home, Jacob. Send it to me. And I will make sure they suffer until the end of time.

Okay. I'll do it. I'll do it. Excellent. His voice had conveniently reverted back to normal. Let's get started, shall we? I'll meet you over at the pastor's house. I'd ride with you, but I'd be Lord of fucking darkness and you drive a A Prius, so, you know.

Even though he wasn't in the car with me as I drove over to Pastor Alonzo's home, I knew that I was far from alone. Every time I doubted my sanity, every time I started a question if what had transpired was even real, he was there, standing on a street corner, waiting at a bus stop, even watching me from the windows of other cars as they passed me by. I realize now that he was keeping an eye on me,

making sure I didn't get cold feet. It came as no surprise to find him already waiting for me on the front steps of the pastor's massive house when I pulled up. He placed a hand on my shoulder when I got near and spoke some final words of encouragement to motivate me. You're doing the right thing, Jacob. Just remember they had this coming. From the moment I nudged open the pastor's gaudy oversized front door, I could hear he

and my wife wailing away from the bedroom upstairs. I drew my gun and followed the moans up the steps. The little devil followed close behind. Geez, Jake, it sounds like a couple of pigs getting slaughtered in there. Is that what it was like when you two used to bump uglies? I brushed off as I considered a quip and leaned against a bedroom door once I got upstairs. The boy was licking his lips in anticipation. It seemed as if you want him dead worse than I did.

Though began to seep into my mind. I was no killer. The very thought of murdering the mother of my children was beginning. to make me feel sick. Perhaps sensing apprehension, he started whispering in my ear. Do it, Jake. Send him to hell. His words were easy to ignore. My kids were all I could think about.

Could I really take their mother away from them? Even though I had let the boy manipulate me that evening, I still had my free will. I knew that I had the power to walk out the front door if I wanted to. No one needed to die. He who hesitates is lost, Jake. How could I even pull the trigger? For God's sakes, I still loved the woman.

That's when the dark, inexplicable feeling that had been growing inside me started to dwindle. In its place, I felt hope. Hope that maybe if I could talk to her, even to hear her speak, I would come to my senses. Then almost on cue her voice rang out, resonating through her. the air like a magnificent melody plucked from the fingers of a master harpist. Fuck me, preacher man! I kicked in the door. My gun had six bullets, but it only took me three.

It would have been too, but I couldn't resist the opportunity to relieve the pastor of his holy scepter. It's strange how draining murder can be. All I did was point my gun and pull a trigger, yet my body felt like I could just run a marathon. Woo! Ha ha ha ha! I knew you had it in you, Jacob, but holy hell, I didn't expect you to blast off his pecker, too.

It wasn't as wise crack that startled me. The boy's voice had suddenly changed. It was deeper than a teenager's now, more dignified, too, perhaps most alarming. It was a voice I knew very well. When I heard echo off the walls in my church every Sunday for years, Pastor Alonzo's voice. I whirled around to see the man. I just shot, smiling in front of me from the doorway. Relax.

He said as he entered the room. It's just me. Lucifer, King of the underworld, father of lies, yada, yada, yada. I look back to the bed. The real pastor's bullet-ridden body still laid motionless next to my wife's corpse. Their cadavers intertwined within a set of tacky blood-steamed bedsheets. Why do you look like Pastor Alonzo now? Why does it matter?

I do as I please. Before I had a chance at a follow-up question, a thunderous sound of the pastor's front door being slammed shut carried through the house and up to the bedroom. My heart began to race as a bevy of heavy footsteps made their way up the stairs. What the hell is going on? I demanded, but the trickster didn't answer me. There was a wicked grin painted across his face. It sent a wave of fright through my body. Do you know what they're going to do to you in prison, Jacob?

He said with a sneer. Two uniformed police officers strode into the room. As the policeman made their way toward me, my panic began to intensify. All I could think about was wasting the rest of my life away in an orange jumpsuit and playing housewife at the behest of my cellmate, a tattooed skinhead named Knife Face. I still had three bullets left, and I knew there was one way out of the situation. I raised a revolver to my temple as the cop. march towards me.

I don't know if I really would have pulled the trigger had they attempted to arrest me. Thankfully, I didn't get the chance to find out because instead of drawing their guns on me, they brushed right by without saying a word. I watched in awe as they started wrapping the pastor and my wife's bodies in the soiled silk sheets. To my surprise, they appeared to be cleaning up my mess. You know who fell on the floor and began howling. Ha! Now you really do. Looks like he got caught with your dick in those family go. He thrust a finger into my bewildered face.

I'm just challenging you, Jake. These fine gentlemen are with me. Them too. He thumbed over the doorway. Two more men I hadn't noticed before wearing plain clothes, but still branching badges were waiting in the doorway. Gary, come over here for a second. The older heavyset man centered towards us. His somber face and reluctant gait made him look like a kid who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The no longer baby-faced demon patted him on the back. Do you know who this man is, Jacob?

I shook my head. Jerry here is ahead of the police department. That means he's very important. Pleased to meet you, I said. I really wasn't. At that point, all I wanted was the distance myself as far away from the pastor's house as possible and forget the whole night ever happened.

The police chief remained silent. The shame and discomfort in his eyes told me the feeling was mutual. The demon gestured over to the other man, still standing at the door. That guy over there, just me, detective. He turned his head towards him. Hey, congratulations on your new promotion, Bill. The detective looked a way to avoid eye contact.

Once again, my partner for the evening focused his attention on me. Guess who's going to be heading up your wife's murder case? What about the pastor? Who's going to be looking into his murder? He stretched his arms out and twirled around. as if you were showing off a brand new coat. What are you talking about? Pastor Alonzo wasn't murdered.

He just suddenly decided to do missionary work in Africa versus doing missionary work with your wife. See, everything wraps up neat and tidy, and you get off scoff free. Now, Jacob, before you leave tonight, I went to speak to you about that favor. What? We talked about this.

I said that maybe one day I might ask you to return the favor I did for you, remember? Yeah, I remember. I guess I didn't expect it to come so soon. Well, life's funny like that sometimes. Don't worry, though. It's really nothing you can't do in your sleep. I'm not asking you to pick up and dispose of dead bodies like these suckers.

What do you want? He leaned in close and looked at me with a solemn expression on his face. Listen to me, Jacob, because this is the only favor I will ever ask of you. It is imperative that you never attempt to contact Darcy Alonzo. Do you understand? What? His request had left me puzzled for numerous reasons. But Darcy Lonzo has terminal cancer.

She's dying. His lips curled into a devilish smirk. Well, let's just say I did her a little favor. What are you going to do with her? What's it matter to you? I do as I please. I wave my finger in his face. But you said I'm not obligated to listen to you, right?

If I wanted to, I could go over to the hospital right now and tell her about everything that happened tonight. Of course you can, Jacob. Like I said, there's no binding agreement between us. Your soul is yours and you're free to do what you want with it. As a matter of fact, I stake no claim to any of these men's souls. They're just people who are kind enough to repay the favors I did for them. You see, I've done favors for a lot of people, Jacob, cops, judges, lawyers, even pedophiles who take pleasure in the rape and murder of children.

Hey, that reminds me. Don't your kitties walk home from school every day? And when he said that, he looked me right in the eye. It was as if hysterical caused my mind to play out a thousand different scenarios. Each one were heinous and vile than the last. Those eyes were like looking through a window into hell. Darcy and I are going away. All you have to do is forget about it.

Forget about this entire night if you want, but don't forget. That I'm always watching you, Jacob. He didn't say another word. The message was clear. I turned and exited the pastor's house without looking back. The next few hours were a blur to me. I remember driving back to my home, vomiting in a kitchen sink. That double Western Bacon Burger finally did make its escape.

Then passing out on the couch in my living room, my wife's body was found 48 hours after I shot her inside of a liquor store dumpster. Just as he said, I was never even considered a suspect. Her murder was pinned on some 19-year-old kid from the hood who'd never even met her. It took no more than a week for the jury to reach a guilty verdict. He was sentenced to death. The kid's currently incarcerated in trying to appeal the jury's decision. But something tells me he won't have any luck.

I have a feeling I'm not the only person who has a favor to repay. Darcy Lonzo checked out of the hospital that evening and was gone by morning. Word around the church was that she and the pastor had believed her miraculous recovery he'd be assigned from God. So they sold their house and settled across the globe to spread his message. If you ask me, though, the story's a bigger load of bullshit than a politician making a campaign speech while rolling in a pile of fertilizer. It was hard for my children to lose their mother at such a young age, but they've been learning to get along without her. I like to think I've been doing a hell of a job as a single parent, cooking, cleaning, taking care of them.

It took a while for things to get back to normal for us, but they're finally back to smiling and laughing again. About a year after everything happened, I received a letter in the mail. I didn't think much about it at first. It was in middle of December and I'd already collected dozens of Christmas cards. It wasn't until I tore open the envelope, I realized the dark, inexplicable sensation had made its presence known once again in the pit of my stomach. The message inside the card was short, but it hit me like a punch to the gut. Merry Christmas from the Alonzo's.

The doctors say we're due to have the best Christmas ever. Attached to the card was a picture of Darcy and the pastor, wearing ugly Christmas sweaters and grinning from ear to ear. Darcy's sweater, however, was pulled up past her midsection, exposing her belly. She looked to be about nine months pregnant. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast, or to suggest stories for future episodes, please visit us.

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