Creepy - A Real Wisconsin Winter

Episode Date: March 11, 2019

Bundle up...***Written by EZ Morgan, guest narration from Nate Dufort.***Please consider supporting the podcast at Patreon.com/Creepypod All month long for March 2019, new $5+ members get an exclusive sticker set and entry into a drawing for a Creepy Logo Hoodie! Sign up now!***For more from EZ Morgan, check out: reddit.com/user/EZmisery and facebook.com/EZmisery***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube:https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Produced by Steve Blizin, Puzzle Audio***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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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 may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy Presents A Real Wisconsin Winter Written by E. Z. Morgan.

With guest narration. By Nate Dufort. Jeff was a good roommate in college. He was quiet, friendly, when necessary, and I was down for some shitty movie. I guess I'd call him my friend, although we didn't hang out much outside the dorm. He was much more intellectual than me,

and I was much more into sports than him. We're kind of an odd couple, but it worked. Every summer we go back to our respective homes, me in California, him in Wisconsin. Then in August we meet back up for another year. To be honest, I never wondered what Jeff's home would look like. I guess we weren't close enough for me to think of him like that. But senior year he started mentioning where he was from. He offered little tidbits about Wisconsin and the tiny town he was born in.

It didn't bother me. I figured he wanted to get closer. Then he started to joke that I should come stay at his place over a winter break and experience a real Wisconsin winter. I told him it gets cold in California sometimes, and he laughed. The kind of laugh someone wise would give someone stupid. He just smiled his dopey smile at me and said there was nothing like a Wisconsin winter. You have to be there to really understand it. He twirled his pen between his fingers.

I followed the pen as a bounce between his thumb and forefinger, swirling up and down. I thought of my older brother, Wood said something nearly identical to me. I was seven years younger than him. When I turned ten, he decided to start breaking about his sex life. He described the axe in close detail. He said Penny Turner's vagina was so big he put his whole arm inside her.

I didn't believe him. He grinned. You have to be there to really understand it. It took me another six years to realize he was fucking with me. This, of course, came after I tried to stick my whole arm in my first girlfriend. I wonder if I ever told Jeff that story. I thought about my brother and what he would say to Jeff. All right, I told him.

Prove it. Take me home with you at break, and I'll see it for myself. A grin spread across his face. I have to warn you, Ian. It gets very cold. A cold you can feel in your bones. Your face will be on fire with it. There is nowhere to hide from the cold.

It finds you even under the heaviest blockade. Dude, you sound like an idiot. We both laughed. Jeff had a tendency to wax poetic. He's an English major after all. Okay, fine, but it's fucking chilly. You'll have to buy a better coat, maybe snow boots. We aren't going to the North Pole, are we?

No, but we might as well. It's like the opposite of hell, except you're still there. Just the fire is replaced with ice. He placed a pen down and tossed the hair out of his face. Ah, good thing I have some extra blubber. I said as I patted my stomach. He rolled his eyes and turned back to his computer. I swung up to my bunk and stared at the ceiling.

Being cold as hell wasn't the worst way to spend winter break. Or so I thought. Ten hours into a road trip and I was ready to be in an actual building. We were driving Jeff's Honda, and although it was immaculate, comfort was not its strong suit. Jeff insisted we'd keep all the snacks organized and contained so it wouldn't ruin his interior. I told him he was the only 21-year-old with a car cleaner than his mother's. You obviously don't know my mother. He laughed.

So how far are we? I knew I sounded like a whiny kid, but Jeff just kept smiling. Another five to go. And you drive home every break? I longed for the comfort of my first-class airplane seat. Yep, every break. I just can't stay away. And what's the town called again?

Beside. Plainfield. Sounds pretty boring. I lean back, happy with my joke. That's a tiny place, but it has its charm. If you like cows or soybeans, you'll love it. Can't say I'm too fond either. I opened the package-marked chips and shuffled some in my mouth.

Jeff grimaced but stayed silent When we finally pulled up to a house It was getting dark We've been driving since 7 that morning And I wanted more than anything To curl up in a bed and sleep Snow whipped up from the ground And spiraling ringlets of white

Despite the temperature Wisconsin was surprisingly beautiful The hills had lovely leafless trees And empty pastures stretch like checkerboards Across the fields I appreciated the view but the negative 3 degree temperature was certainly biting Jeff's house was at least a 10 minute drive from any other structure we saw

was literally in the middle of nowhere but at least it was a house all the lights were out inside Jeff stopped the car another long breath he turned to me I'm going to unlock the door and get the fire lit keep staying the car for a few minutes uh sure

just hurry it's creepy here. He nodded and rushed inside. A light turned on and I could see him bustling around. I rubbed my arms to stay warm. Suddenly felt darker. I was more keenly aware of how isolated we were. I saw a large light flickering in the far window. I was anxious to get out of the car. The door opened and I saw Jeff Beck into me. I gratefully ran into the house, leaving my bags behind. I rushed to the fireplace. It sat on the back wall. Two shabby couches were positioned close by and I sat,

reaching my fingers towards the flames. Just sat across from me. His arms folded. I felt a bit warmer, so I looked around. The house itself was very small but homey. Decorative needle points and old-timey paintings littered the walls. Crocheted blankets covered almost every surface. It looked like a place trained.

transported from a different era. The walls were paneled wood and the floors were decked in a red-shade carpet. It smelled a smoke and decay. Is this like your grandma's place? I looked up to see Jeff staring at me. His voice was as cold as the wind outside. No. This is where I grew up.

Sorry, man. I didn't mean to offend you. He didn't blink. So you don't have heat? Just a fireplace? A fireplace is heat, Ian. Is that not good enough for you? I watched the heat reflected in his eyes and thought to myself.

How much did I really know about this guy? I let him drive me 15 hours away from school and put me up in this old house. I shook my head. Of course I knew him. I'd known him almost four years. Then why did he look like a stranger? Plainfield has a pretty famous resident, you know. Or did, rather. He's dead now.

He said softly. Well, yeah? I inched closer to the fire. We were in all the newspapers. This was before I was born, but we never really outlived the hype. People come here all the time to try and imagine what life was like for Ed. Still good reporter now and then, too. Ed?

Jeff smiled. You really need to take a history class, Ian. Or actually a site class. talked all about old Ed and abnormal psych. I felt a shiver run down my spine. Why are you telling me this? To give you an idea of what life is like here. He stood up.

I think it's time to show you my bedroom. God, yeah. My bed would be amazing. I tried to shrug off the weird vibes I was getting. It was probably the cold getting to my head. Jeff took off and I followed. We entered an ancient-looking kitchen that hadn't been touched in years.

A wood-burning stove towered over a homemade table and rickety chairs. A doily sat in the center of the table with two letters and lace. J and D. A small pantry held nothing but canned meats and other sundrieds. Jeff stopped in front of a door and fumbled was a large padlock. He pulled a key from his pocket and the scrape of the lock turning was intense. He swung it open and motioned inside. I peeked from behind him and realized the door led to a basement.

Your room is in the basement? Very astute, Ian. He began descending the stairs. Come on, you can rest down here. I hesitated. Jeff, where's your family? He paused halfway down the steps. They're visiting my uncle in Milwaukee.

He swallowed audibly. Come on down, Ian. Unless you're scared. That last comment reminded me my older brother, who once left me in the woods to find my own way out. I begged him not to leave me and he just laughed. What are you scared? I wanted to say yes. I am scared.

I'm terrified. But I knew if I admitted my true feelings, he'd never respect me. So I let him leave me there, alone and nine years old. It took me all day to find the road, and another two hours to find the road. and another two hours to walk home. My mother screamed at me and I was grounded for a month. But my big brother nodded as if I'd done something heroic. And I told that story to Jeff.

I stepped forward towards the stairs and Jeff turned away to continue down. It was dark below, but I managed to reach the floor without falling. Jeff was a little ways away from me and suddenly a light bulb was turned on. I covered my eyes for a second and then adjusted to the light. The basement was even smaller than the kitchen. It had a few shelves of canned food, some random storage containers, and an old dog crate. The ground looked arson.

I smelled piss and vomit. Something must have died down here. I looked at Jeff who was shaking. His eyes were big, and he was... Scared? Cold? Hey, man, are you okay? This isn't your bedroom.

I walked toward him to put a hand on his shoulder, but he backed up. With an unsteady hand, he pointed at the dog crate. My bedroom. He said in a whisper. I followed his gaze and stared at the crate. It was made of metal bars with claw marks surrounding it. It couldn't be more than two feet high. My mouth hung open.

You slept in that? Every night, most of the day too. His voice was pitchy. Never told anyone before. My fear faded away and I only felt sadness for Jeff. That's fucked up. Why did your parents do that to you? Because of this.

He slid his hands over one of the storage containers. The lid popped off and a smell filled the basement. I gagged. Jeff lifted a lamp from the container. Why would... But my words stopped when I realized what the... lampshade was made of. It's skin, Ian, from my grandma.

She died, and I borrowed her for my projects. His face turned from nervous to excited. It's our town's legacy. I knew I had to keep the spirit alive. I backed up, ready to bolt up the stairs. He grinned. Where do you think you're going? I have the car keys, and it's a six-mile walk to the next house.

Think you can make it now that the sun's down? It's probably 13 below by now. What the hell did you bring me here for? He put the lamp back and pulled out a second item. It was a skull. My uncle died from brain cancer, so I turned his head into a bowl. Isn't it beautiful? I'm going to call the cops, Jeff.

I reached into my pocket, but realized I'd left my cell phone charging on the car. But I haven't even shown you my best work. You reached back down and lifted a framed painting. But it wasn't a painting. Holy fuck, is that? A vulva? Yes. Ed Gein had one on his wall, so I wanted my own.

Unfortunately, no one had died recently. So I had to take it from my sister. She didn't survive the encounter. He stared at it lovingly. This is the one that got me locked in the crate. My mother didn't like my projects. She wanted everything to be pristine. Easy.

Softly. I didn't fit into the box she wanted me to. So she locked me down here. Made me sleep in my own shit. My father would sneak me scraps of food, but once I went a whole year without speaking to anyone. Can you imagine that, Ian? A year. In a tiny cage, eating chicken bones and cockroaches.

No one to even scream at. He stroked the frame. Sorry for me. He read about psychology and thought I needed help. He please. I just want to stay safe. I tried to become as big and strong as I could, but Jeff was unfazed. He let me out.

He told me take me away from here, somewhere where I could find my sanity. He sighed. You want to leave? At least not without some trophies. He put the frame down in motion to a box near me. Open it, Ian. No. I wanted to cry.

Do it. Or I'll kill you. He cocked his hat. This was not the same man who watched die hard with me in our dorm room. This was someone different. Someone demonic. I'm stronger than you. I shot back.

You can't hurt me? He looked at me with disappointment. Slowly, you pulled a revolver from his jacket. I've had it the whole time. I could have killed you so many times. I won't lie. You were the first person to treat me like a human since my father. You talked to me, laughed with me.

I thought I could trust you. He locked eyes with me. Now open the fucking box. Shivering, I bent down and lifted the lid of the box. Tears starting flowing down my cheeks despite my stubbornness. Now? It's joyful. Sniffling.

I reached into the box and lifted the thing inside. It was a large slab of skin, dried and sewn together. When I held it up, I could see it was shaped like some sort of dress. Two sets of genitals were sewn onto it. it, male and female. The top still had chest hair. I didn't want to touch it, but I didn't know how to escape. That's me, Ian. It's a self-portrait. Can you see the beauty of it?

It's my mother and father. Mixed together. Just like me. He walked towards me, and it took everything in my power not to collapse. This is why I brought you here. I want you to know me. I do know you, Chef. Let's just get out of here and go get something to eat. I calmed my voice and took deep breaths. No!

He screamed, making me almost drop the horror I was holding. You will put this on and know me, or I'll kill you. He took the thing lovingly from me. Put your arms up. Grimising. I did as I was told. My eyes showed as tight as it could be. He started pulling the thing over my head and I smelled the putrid scent of death.

It was tight on me. Jeff managed to slip it down so it covered my hips. Open your eyes. He commanded. I did slowly. Not looking down. Jeff was standing before me amazed. Tears welling up.

I wanted to throw up. I wanted to run. I wanted to end this parade of horror. Can I go now? One second. He smiled as he climbed the stairs, watching me the whole time. From the top of the stairs,

he held out the gun and pointed it at me. I saw my whole life before me. My mother, who raised two boys without help, My brother, I had only just realized, tormented me throughout my childhood. My friends would never know how much I loved them. My future? Which was shrinking with every second. Jeff pulled the trigger.

The gun clicked. Nothing happened. He pulled out the barrel and tipped it over, showing there were no bullets inside. I'm not a monster. Sir Ian? He then shut the door. And I was alone. Jeff never showed back up to school.

I lived alone for my final semester of college. The school had changed the locks and the campus police were on the lookout for him. But I knew he would never come back. His time with me was done. Everyone asks me what happened. How did I escape? The truth is I didn't. Not really.

Sure. The cop showed up 30 minutes after Jeff locked me down there. They broke down the basement door and found me on my knees, sobbing. Still in the skin suit. One of the cops threw up. The other ran to me, screaming for me to explain myself. I couldn't talk. They handcuffed me and took me to the precinct.

It took two people to take the tight. horror off my body. Couldn't stop crying. I wanted to call my mom. I wanted to go back to when I wasn't Jeff's brother. I was cleared of any wrongdoing. They collected all of just projects and condemned the house. My mother flew out to Wisconsin to take me home.

Reporters flooded our return, yelling questions at me like a criminal. When, if they ever caught Jeff, I would have to fly back and testify at the trial. Secretly, I hope they would never catch him. I never wanted to see that man again. So I suppose I escaped that basement. But in a truer way, I'm still there.

Wearing his parents. Jeff warned me. He said it would be hell. He said I couldn't escape a real Wisconsin. in winter. He was right. For more information, including pictures and videos of the stories told on this podcast, or to suggest stories for future episodes, please visit us. At Creepypod on Twitter, Instagram, email.

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