Creepy - Alpine Coaster

Episode Date: September 23, 2024

It's just a ride...***Written by: JoeMorgue***Bonus episode: "Love" written by: Sabsyla and narrated by: Rissa Montanez***Support the show at patreon.com/creepypod***Sound design by: Pacific Obadiah***Title music by: Alex Aldea Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Please join me in welcoming and thanking new patrons. Samantha Zerby, David Bennett Black, Jess, Knapp, Emily Zerby, Tiffany McKinley, Crystal You, Kishorei Christian, Katie Van Dyke, Noah Watson, Vicki, and Dean Bradley. All patrons enjoy early commercial-free episodes. From their tiers also include an additional one-to-four weekly bonus episodes,

immediate access to all previously posted stories for their tier and logo merch. To see how you can support the show and be rewarded for it, please check out the donation tiers of patreon.com slash creepypod. Can you feel it? October's almost here. And that means the 31 days of horror is just around the corner. We've got a lot on the docket for you all. We've been putting in even more time to bring you the very best we can

during the very best month of the year. And while we kick things off for everyone in just over a week, patrons will start getting early access next weekend. And that's on top of all the other bonus stories. So, if you just can't wait, make sure to check out patreon.com slash creepypod to get a head start. We're putting something extra into each episode this year for the first time, and we're really hoping that you enjoy what we put together. I can't wait for you to hear it.

Until then, no. This is creepy. A podcast dedicated to sharing the most famous chilling and disturbing creepy pastors and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy presents. Elpine Coaster written by Joe Morg. You guys know an Alpine coaster is. They're like a small roller coaster you find in the mountains. They're also called

summer toboggans or mountain coasters, and I think there's some long German compound word that they're called in parts of Europe. They're like a roller coaster with much smaller one or two person sleds you just sit on instead of multi-person cars you ride in. And instead of being built with like a scaffolding or framework that tracks are just on the ground using the elevation of the mountain. Basically, it's a coaster track on the side of a mountain where you ride a sled down.

They're pretty fun. Or at least they used to think so. They're more personal than roller coasters. And although you get nowhere near the speed on them that you do on a good traditional roller coaster and they can't do corkscrews or loops or anything like that, The openness and simplicity of the ride gives an impression of a much greater speed.

You're just sitting there with nothing but a little plastic sled and the track between you and the ground as it goes zooming by. It's like the difference between how fast a go-kart feels compared to how fast a sports car feels. You know, the sports car goes faster, but the open, simpleness of a go-kart feels a different kind of fast.

There are plenty of POV YouTube videos if you want to get the basic idea of what they are. I used to love alpine coasters. Used to. My family used to go to Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge and up and down the Smoky Mountains for vacations when I was a kid. And they're common in that area. And I always wrote them every chance I got.

But as with so many things after I grew up and went to college, they just became part of my childhood that slipped away. They aren't exactly common once you get away from the mountains Until one cool spring afternoon in 2004 It was my final year of college And I was driving back to campus in Tennessee After a short visit to my folks in North Carolina It was only like a four or five hour drive

I had the most efficient route And I had no need to be back to campus early So instead of taking the freeway all the way I got off and took part of my trip through the mountains The scenery was nicer, and I admit I liked pushing my Camaro just a little faster than I should through the Twisty Mountain roads. Just after lunchtime, I happened upon one of those little by-the-highway tourist towns deep somewhere in the smoky mountains near the Carolina-Tennessee border. Nothing fancy. A gas station slash truck stop.

A diner. A couple places selling tourist merch nestled deep in the mountains. I pulled into the gas station. My tank was getting low and I needed to stretch my legs. Maybe grab something to eat. It was still early and I only had a couple hours. I could kill an hour or so and still make it back to campus at a decent hour. I pulled into the gas station and was filling my tank when I happened to glance across the road and,

well, I'll be damned. There it was. The Blue Ridge Alpine Coaster. Nestled on the side of the mountain was a building. A mock-up of a red barn, with a single-railed track to let up into the mountains, where it soon got lost in the greenery. Wooden hand-painted standies, a cartoon character, Bears, dressed in stereotypical hillbilly get-up stood around. Some of them holding signs showing the ride hours and ticket costs and other info. I had to admit, as silly as it was, it made me smile.

I finished pumping my gas and, well, nostalgia is a hell of a thing. I decided then and there I could waste a little time riding an alpine coaster again after all these years before getting back on the road. I parked my car in a corner of the truck stops parking lot, put my phone in the center console, this being the days before smartphones when people didn't keep their phones with them 24-7, and I didn't want my old no key of brick phone to fall out during the ride. Locked my car and walked across the mountain highway to the Alpine coaster building. Getting closer, the place was less inviting. The half-hearted attempt at a whimsical faux Americana kitsch was far less effective

when it brushed up against the actual decaying, run-down wooden building. Calling it a building was generous. It was a wood frame holding up a long roof that covered the area where you got on the sleds. The woodboards creaked under my footsteps. The only real enclosed structure was a shack that held, what I assumed, was the ticket booth. The door on the side of a single occupancy bathroom had an out-order sign on it. An old Pepsi machine buzzed and glowed next to it. Still, the place looked alive.

Ahead of me, a bored-looking attendant was helping a mother and her young son into one of the sleds, while in a bored monotone repeating the safety brief. A few people were waiting in line at the kibouz. Up in the mountains, the playful shouts of people on the ride echoed down. Fond memories of my own childhood rides flooded my mind. Ten minutes and fifteen dollars later, I was settling into the hard plastic seat of a bright red sled set atop a simple aluminum rail. I couldn't help a grin as the sled slowly climbed the track up the mountains.

making click-clack ratching sounds that hit my nostalgia centers hard. I felt good. The air was cool and crisp and smelled a pine. Higher and higher into the mountains we went. I don't know if this is my mind trying to make sense of it after the fact, but when I remember these mountains, the last good moments, I sometimes think I remember a very slight, very subtle pit of fear in my stomach. I honestly don't know if I felt it at the time or not, or it's just how my mind tries to make sense of it looking back.

But either way, mostly I was just enjoying myself. I smiled. I was a kid again. I could hear riders in front of me let out that initial yell of terrified glee you get at the first drop of any good ride. It peaked. I glanced around. I could see for miles. rolling hills and mountains.

Then the sled tipped over and zoomed down the mountain. Then I let out the same happy yell I heard from the other passengers. The ride zoomed down the mountain, catching speed. The mountain forest floor zoomed past, only a few feet under me. I gave out a happy whoop as the ride banked hard around a curve and then looped back under itself. Another dip, another curve. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel that G-Force is pulling me every which way. There was no one exact single moment where things started to go wrong.

The ride kept going and going. At this point, the first creeping thought entered my head. The ride was still going. It just started to hit me. The ride was going on for a really long time. I'd taken a dozen rides on various coasters of this type before that day, and they topped out at about five minutes or so, and that was the long ones. Longer than a traditional roller coaster, but not that long. This one had been going on for what felt like 10, maybe even 15 minutes.

I looked back over my shoulder and could only see trees, moving too fast to really get a bearing on where I was in relation to anything. I wasn't exactly really worried yet. Okay, so I found a particularly long alpine coaster. At the time, I wasn't 100% sure they didn't exist or anything like that. I was a little unnerved, but nothing was happening that was impossible. Yet, I was trying to talk myself back into just enjoying the ride and stop overthinking it. And halfway succeeded. When out of nowhere I suddenly banked hard, the track jutting out almost over a sheer cliffside.

I gripped a sled more tightly as I was whipped around. The ride then dipped hard and picked up speed, barreling down the side of the mountain. I was pushed back against a seat by the force of the drop. Jesus, I didn't remember him being this rough. I was feeling slightly nauseous. And where did this elevation drop come from, I was still in the foothills. And I didn't remember seeing anything but gentle rolling hills and light drops from looking at the ride's route earlier. How the ride had managed such a long, steep drop in this area?

I didn't know. For the first time, I hoped that the ride would be over soon. I had no idea then how much I'd want that same hope to be true so much more as time went on. With a whiplash motion, I was whipped forward and then back as the ride leveled out on a flat ground again. But by this point, I was going fast, too fast. My neck hurt from the mild whiplash, and I felt sour in my throat. And for a moment, the contents of my stomach threatened to come back up. For the first, but hardly the last time, the ride felt unsafe.

Alpine coasters are tame affairs, much slower and gentler than full-on roller coasters. But this thing was throwing me around like no thrill ride I'd ever been on. I looked around. I mean, I wasn't that deep into the woods. I should have been able to see a glimpse of something. The highway, the gas station, the tourist shops, the alpine coaster office. Something. Anything.

But nothing. Just trees. I forced back some panic for the first time. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. The ride zoomed along. I counted to 60. I counted to 60 again. And again.

Okay, this was getting uncomfortably harder and harder to explain. Suddenly I noticed that up ahead the track seemed to just end. For one brief, terrible moment. moment. I thought the track just ended, but I was wrong. Almost without warning, the track dipped in an almost vertical drop. I almost screamed as I plummeted for 20, maybe 30 seconds before flattening out again. By this point, the voice in my head that was telling me something was wrong was louder, and I could no longer tell myself it wasn't wrong. This ride could not have been this long. I tried to make sense of it, wondering if somehow I'd gotten diverted into some

kind of maintenance track or, to hell for one brief irrational moment even entertaining the idea that I'd wound up on an actual train track somehow. But that was absurd. The rail below me was not a train track. It was just the simple aluminum rail of an alpine coaster. And there had been no diversions or junctions in the track. I was still on the ride, as insane as that was starting to feel. Had the ride somehow looped? Again, after having the thought, I immediately dismissed it as crazy. There's no way I could have missed the ride building where I got on. And what kind of ride loops over and over? The sled zoomed through the forest, oddly, never seeming to lose speed despite the relatively flat grade of the track.

I cursed myself for leaving my phone in the car and not wearing a watch. I don't know exactly how long I'd been on the ride at that point, but it felt like I'd been on it for half an hour, maybe more, but times a funny thing when you're in a situation you've never been in. Could have been more, could have been less at that point. My pride finally failed me. I started to scream for help. I screamed out that the ride was broken to stop it, that I needed help.

I did that for about ten minutes or so, I think. The ride kept going, mostly flat, level track with occasional mild dips and turns, but the simple length of the ride grew more and more unnerving and unexplainable. I thought about just bailing out. but the ride, impossibly, was still not slowing down, and chunks of mountain rock and thick tree trunks were all around me. Bailing out without risking smashing into a rock or a tree seemed impossible. The ride kept going.

Up ahead the forest was clearing out some. I could see the forest brightening, more sunlight making it through the canopy. I wasn't prepared for what I saw. The trees stopped and had just enough time to take in a flat, open area of rock, maybe 40, 50 yards at most before another sheer cliff. The tracks twisted and turned and then shot straight down. But that wasn't the worst of it. For a moment, a very short moment. I had a clear view for miles, and the landscape was, to be blunt,

Totally impossible. Any possibility that I'd just stumbled on some incredibly long ride was blasted out of my head. Barren, volcanic-looking rock stretched for miles. Jagged, black, rocky outcroppings as far as the eye could see. I was in the goddamn smoky mountains. They don't look like that. I had a few moments of terror for that view to settle in before the cart plunged into another horrifying drop.

I gripped the handles of the cheap plastic sled until my knuckles turned white. The drop felt completely vertical, like I was falling at terminal velocity. I screamed. My stomach dropped and turned. I imagined the sled coming away from the track, and me just plummeting, screaming to my death on the rocks below. But somehow, the ride still functioned. I closed my eyes tightly and just waited for whatever was going to happen.

Eventually, after it felt like a full minute, a steep plunging, the track again leveled out, and I opened my eyes to see myself moving along at breakneck speed over that black, rocky landscape. Now that I was moving on a more or less flat horizontal track again, I took a few deep breaths. I looked over the edge of the track. Nothing but that black jagged rock, almost looking like obsidian, zooming past. I had no idea how fast the sled was moving now. Fast. Faster than a gravity-powered sled should be moving.

And the track was higher off the ground now. Alpine slides usually stick pretty close to the ground, but I was 20 feet or so in the air. The track suspended in the air. A simple metal tube tower like a power pylon every few yards. Without any immediate threat, and the sled moving fast, but steadily, and level, I was able to think about my situation again. For all the good that did me. Ahead of me, the track just continued to the horizon. Nothing but the same rocky landscape as far as I could see.

I craned my neck to look back over my chest. shoulder and looked back behind me and it looked the same even the mountains were but distant specks on the horizon behind me this was insane there isn't a giant seemingly endless field of black jagged rock in the goddamn smoky mountains there's no cliff faces tall and steep enough for a multi-minute vertical drop and alpine coasters were small affairs not major engineering projects that span miles with pylons and vertical tracks. It made no sense. Sadly, it wasn't going to start making any more sense any time soon.

The ride kept going. I was on this rocky landscape for several hours. I feel comfortable saying this because I could actually notice the sun getting lower in the sky. And the sled wasn't slowing down despite the grade of the track being flat. I was getting cramped from sitting and stretched my legs and twisted my back as best I could. Didn't help much. My eyes were starting to get irritated from the constant wind in them. Worst of all, I was starting to get chilly.

I only had on a light jacket, a windbreaker, just something to keep the breeze off me. No real insulation. I was cold. My joints were stiff. I was hungry and thirsty. My eyes watered and my throat was so dry it was sore But none of that was as bad as just how little sense this all made There's nothing like this place anywhere near the smoky mountains

This is like some volcanic rock landscape The more I thought about it The less sense it made The ride kept going My mind didn't even try to process this Whatever I was experiencing simply couldn't be possible. I was crazy.

I was dreaming. The CIA kidnapped me and dosed me with some new version of LSD and I was in a straight jacket and a padded room in Area 51. The sled kept zooming along as the sky turned to dusk. Soon the bridge disappeared from my view and I continued on along the endless, rocky, featureless landscape.

I sat back against the sled, mentally and physically numb. I was exhausted. I was thirsty. I was cramping up. I was hungry. I had to pee. I held it for as long as I could.

Then I had no choice but just wet myself. I cried until I had no more tears left. Then I just sat there. The ride kept going. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, my throat felt like sandpaper. I dug around in my jacket. of pockets hoping to find a stick of gum or a piece of candy. Nothing.

I checked again, having nothing else to do. Under a crumpled store receipt in my inner pocket and my jacket was a single, old, forgotten cough drop. I unwrapped it from the paper and popped it in my mouth. Saliva flooded back into my mouth, and I was overwhelmed by the methanol and medicine taste. It was something, at least. although I knew it would be a brief and temporary fix at best.

I felt my eyes get heavy. It was getting colder. That mountain cold. That deep cold the mountains have, even in the early spring when the sun goes down. That kind of just pulls the heat right out of you. I shivered. A terrible, horrible certainty came to me.

I would ride until I passed out from exhaustion or the hypothermia set in. My body would tumble off the sled to fall and skip across the rocky ground like a stone skipping across a lake. My bones breaking as I tumbled until my body finally came to a stop. If I was lucky, I'd be killed and not have to lie for days broken and bruised on the ground until death took me. Fuck you! I said to the ride. My voice a hoarse whisper.

I pulled my jacket closer around me, for all the good it did. The cold wind was slowly but surely pulling my body heat away. My shivering got worse, crossing the line from a simple normal shiver into those deep, almost violent, full-body ones. That wasn't anything you could call an experienced outdoorsman. But I knew enough to know that wasn't a good sign. It was getting dark. There was a full moon at least, so I wasn't totally.

in the dark. About then I noticed something. The landscape, what little I could see in the fading light, was changing. It was smoothing out, becoming less rocky and craggy. Up ahead an odd shimmering light was starting to appear on the ground. I was over it before I realized what it was. The tracks were going over a smooth surface. It was a lake. The odd lights had seen where they the moon reflecting in ripples on the lake. Within minutes, I was out of view of the land. After the nearly endless rocky landscape and everything else I had seen, it scared me how little I was shocked. I didn't like how mentally numb I was getting. I leaned over. There was enough moonlight to see the water, 15 or 20 feet below the track. The pylons holding up the track went into the water.

The light wasn't good enough to even make a guess at how far they went down or how deep the water was. I leaned back in the sled. My eyes were red, bloodshot from the constant wind. I closed them. That was a mistake. I jerked awake. I don't know if I dozed off for a split second or an hour. My weight had shifted and I caught myself as my center of gravity was in danger, sending me

off the sled and into the water. I screamed in anger. A deep primal scream. I hurt so bad. My joints felt like they were full of glass. I glanced over at the water. For the first time, on the very edges of my brain, a tiny voice started to speak up.

Telling me that it could all be over if I just jumped, I shut the voice up. but it still scared me. I sat there as the ride went on. Felt like ours. Eventually the lake ended in a rocky shoreline. There was no safe place to bail out. If the ride slowed down, it was high in the air.

If it moved toward the ground, it sped up. Sharp rocks, big trees. Nothing you could safely bail out into. I kept having to force myself awake. I kept dozing off. Once I felt myself fall asleep and drove a vicious uppercut into my own nose. I seriously started to think about how much longer I could hang on. The voice came back again.

This time I didn't shut it up. I wasn't admitting it to myself yet, but I was starting to think about the best way to land that would end it quickly if I needed to. Something was ahead. The track seemed to dip into the ground. I was too tired, too beaten to even get scared. I was just resigned to whatever happened at this point. With little warning, the track took my sled into a tunnel in the ground.

Everything went completely pitch black. After several moments, even the dim moonlight was gone. This was the worst part. The creepy forest, the immense rocky landscape to eat. Erie Lake. Those were bad. But this was just nothing. Nothing to look at, nothing to hear, nothing for reference or sense of where I was going. The walls of the tunnel felt like they were inches from me in every direction. The air felt thick, like there wasn't enough oxygen. With every moment I was in that tunnel, I lost a little more hope. After a long, long time I made a decision.

When I got out of this tunnel, I would jump. I didn't care anymore. Hopefully there'd be a spot where I could be certain the fall would instantly kill me. I was done. The ride had beaten me. I sat there, waiting for a chance to end this on my terms. That was all I had left. Eventually up ahead, a tiny speck of light appeared.

I gathered my strength, ready to end it. I sat up, getting my legs under me so I could jump as soon as we were clear. The sled burst out of the tunnel. The dim light of the full moon was enough to be momentarily blinding after the pitch black of the tunnel. I gave my eyes a moment to adjust. I was back in a normal-looking Appalachian forest. Rolling hills, green trees, the air smelled a pine again. I heard an owl hoot off somewhere.

Slowly I lowered myself back into a seat of position in shock. At first, I refused to believe it, but the ride was slowing down. I held still, making sure my mind wasn't playing tricks on me. But no. The cheap plastic sled that had been my world for what felt like in eternity was slowing down. Up ahead the structure was visible, peeking out from amongst the trees in the dim, lighting as the sled moved down the track. It was the alpine slide building.

The crappy fake red barn where I had boarded this cursed ride so long ago. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. Sure it was either my mind or the cursed ride playing tricks with me. But the building stayed there. It grew closer and closer. The track leveled completely out. The sled slowed down more. Before I had the time to really come to terms with it,

I arrived back at the building. The sled slowed to a stop, gently bumping against another sled parked on the track. I sat there for a few moments, gasping in great, big, gulping fear breaths. Trying to assure myself the ride didn't have one last trick up its sleeve. I looked around The place was empty

deserted The overhead lights were still on And the old Pepsi machine Still glowed and buzzed But the ticket booth was dark and empty A metal gate pulled down Over the ticket window Suddenly it hit me that I was free

And I practically leapt out of the sliding onto the platform I immediately collapsed My legs were jelly My head was spinning I tried to stand up again and doubled over, dry heaving. Have you ever been out on a boat for a day and have that weird reverse motion sickness when you're back on solid land? It was like that times a hundred. My inner ear was literally pounding.

All the motion had really done a number on it. I laid there for a few moments and eventually forced myself to stand up on my two wobbling legs. I looked around, a horrible certainty creeping into my mind that there would be no exit, no way off the platform. But to my relief, an exit turnstile, one of those full-height ones, was set into the fence that surrounded the ride property. I went through it and found myself back on the main road. The truck stop was still there, still open, but far less busy. My car sat in the same corner of the parking lot I'd left it in. I allowed myself one look back.

Just one quick look. The metal skeleton of the alpine slide track sat there. Dark and quiet, but otherwise normal. I stumbled, ran back to my car, dug the keys out of my pocket, and collapsed inside. When the door shut, I let out a primal scream. the tons of fear and confusion and anger all fusing into a single raw emotion I screamed again and again after a few moments I felt like I was emotionally at least back to a place where I could act although I wasn't sure yet what to do next now really

knowing what to do I cranked the car DAC had been on low when I shut off the car and it came roaring back to life, and cold air blowing on me almost sent me back into a full-on panic attack. I fumbled with the climate controls until the air stopped blowing directly on me, then calmed down enough to turn the heat on, helping to get the chill out of my bones. There was a half-full bottle of water in the center console cup holder, and I grabbed it and chugged it. Nothing ever tasted as good before or sense.

is that few ounces of water. That was when I noticed the clock on the radio head unit. It was 4.17 in the morning. It had been about 1.130 or so in the afternoon when I got on the accursed ride. Over 15 hours. I had been on the goddamn ride for over 15 hours. Over half a day. I just sat there warming up.

calming down. I was exhausted. I was dehydrated. I can't even describe how my head felt. I probably had at least a minor case of hypothermia. I thought about going into the gas station asking for help, but what would I even say? And more than anything, I just wanted to get away from this place. I just wanted to get away. I wanted to be nowhere near that damned ride. I put the Camaro in gear and pulled into the street, and in panic I immediately slammed on the brakes. I was lucky there was no traffic on the road at that moment. The feeling of accelerating to just normal surface street speeds made me sick to my stomach. I gathered myself and very slowly accelerated the car.

I usually treated with a very heavy foot, up to 30 miles an hour. Every time I tried to accelerate at a pace faster than old lady going to church uphill, I'd have a panic attack. I was okay once I was up to speed, but accelerating freaked me out after being on that ride. I drove about 30 minutes, putting some arbitrary amount of distance between myself and the coaster. Eventually I made it back to where the Twisty Mountain Road met back up with the major road that would eventually meet back up with the highway. After a few more minutes of driving, I saw the on-ramp for the highway.

There was one of those big truck stop travel plazas and pulled in, parking right up at the door. I smelled like piss, and I can only imagine how I looked, but I didn't care. I kept a couple of emergency 20s in the back of my wallet and spent it on the biggest bottle of water the store had, an overpriced bottle of eyedrops and a huge travel mug of coffee. The clerk looked at me as if he was expecting me to either drop dead or rob him the entire time. Back in my car, I downed the coffee. I put a few eyedrops in each of my eyes and sat there as a caffeine took effect until I felt like I could make it back to my apartment.

The sun was coming up when I finally pulled out of the truck stop and got on the freeway. I slowly, very slowly, accelerated up to highway speed, put the Camaro in cruise control and let the miles start to drift away. I turned on the radio. I needed to hear human voices. Every time my mind went back to what had just happened, I turned the radio up louder, eventually drowning it out with painful levels of rock music.

I wasn't ready to think about it yet. Yes, looking back I know I was just in denial. I finally made it back to the crappy little apartment I had off campus, a little two-story walk-up studio. I let myself in and collapsed on the cheap couch. I was asleep before I even had time to decide whether or not to do anything else. I woke up later that afternoon. I took a shower and ate a meal and didn't think about the ride. I washed the pea-stained, filthy clothes I had been wearing and didn't think about the ride.

I went back to class and didn't think about the ride. Every time I thought about the ride, I forced it out of my head. I'm sure this wasn't the most mentally healthy thing to do, but what can I say? I didn't forget about it. Be silly. This isn't the kind of thing you forget. One day we'll lookin up something else in the university's library, my curiosity got the better of me, and I looked up the alpine slide. No website, no website, but a few Google map and Yelp mentions.

None of them mention anything weird, certainly nothing even remotely like what I'd experienced. Near as I can tell, it closed sometime in the winter of 2012. Life went on. I mean, that's what it does. The next day was a little better. The day after that, a little better. And the day after that, a little better still. I met a nice girl, graduated, got married, got a nice house in the suburbs, got a dog, had a daughter,

spent a lot of time happy and not thinking about being trapped on an endless alpine coaster. And that was my life for many, many years after. after that, until a few weeks back, when, as a very different person, I found myself driving a boring and safe, mid-sized family SUV through those same mountains. My wife, Carol, five months pregnant, sat in the passenger seat, her six-year-old daughter, Emily, and a booster seat in the back, and Max, our mixed-breed mutt next to her. It had been a pleasant trip, driving back from visiting her folks. I hadn't thought about that fucking ride in so long I barely registered that I was in the same general area until it was too late.

Suddenly I realized that little mountain tourist trapped town was only a few minutes down the road. I swallowed hard and gripped the steering wheel. Carol was looking out the window at the scenery and Emily was deep into some kid's YouTube video on an iPad. I forced myself to keep my breath steady as we rounded the corner. The town was still there, sort of. Time had not been kind to it. The gas station was still there. At some point had been bought out by shell.

The tourist trap shops were still there. One of them was now a vape shop. The diner was closed. The building looking like it sat unused for a long time. But of course, that's not what I cared about. I looked over at the site where the Alpine coaster once stood. It was gone. The kitchy fake barn was gone.

The site was just a bare concrete slab with a chain-link fence around it. Fated, no trespassing, and for-sale signs hung off the fence. A pile of old decaying lumber that might have once long ago been part of the structure covered part of the old lot. No sign of the track remained outside of some old concrete support post dotting the side of the mountain. I exhaled out of breath. I hadn't even realized I'd been holding in. Soon the little town disappeared in my rearview mirror. About a half hour later we stopped for gas.

I pulled up to a gas pump across from a massive motorhome. Mack stuck his head out the window and started barking at a little white dog. A toy breed of some kind in the window of the motorhome. Carol and Emily immediately headed into the store to restock on snacks while I fueled up. I stood there. I half smile on my lips as Max barked and waked his tail in an attempt to attract the attention of the other dog while I filled up the tank. Sad dog, doing an admirable job of ignoring him.

Right about the time I finished fueling up and cleaning the bugs off the windshield, Carol returned from inside the store, Emily and tow, arms filled with two full-sized bags of salt and vinegar potato chips and what looked to be a half-dozen individually wrapped pickles I raised an eyebrow at the collection of food, but knew better than to question a pregnant woman's snack choices. Should we take Max for a quick walk? Carol asked. The travel plaz had a nice little gated dog walking area off to the side. Yeah, probably not a bad idea. It's been cooped up in the car for a few hours, I said.

Max, upon hearing his name and the word walk, forgot about the other dog and upgraded from waging his tail to waging his entire body while making whining noises and staring right at me. About this time, I became half aware that the big motorhome next to us was pulling away. I didn't think much of it, outside of doing a quick automatic mental check to make sure Emily was well clear of the moving vehicle. But she was safely between me and our SUV, well out of the way. But that was when Emily looked behind me and cheerfully yelled, Daddy, look, a roller coaster. Can I ride the coaster? It's cliche as fuck, I know. But my blood went cold. I turned around slowly. Certain in my knowledge, that terrible, old, decrepit alpine coaster would be there, having just popped into existence to trap me again. That is not what I saw.

Sure enough, there was a coaster there. when I had noticed earlier because it been mostly blocked by the motorhome. But there it was. It was even an alpine coaster. But it was not the same coaster I'd encountered those years ago. That was immediately obvious. It was a small but modern and newish-looking setup with neon lights and a bunch of people. There was an actual building where you bought tickets and a little snack stand.

Daddy, can we go on the coaster? Emily squealed happily. My mouth made motions, but no words came out. I glanced over at Carol, hoping she'd say we didn't have time, but to my horror, she smiled and said, You know what? That does sound like fun. Daddy'll take you while I take Max for a walk. My mind raced, trying to think of a way to get out of it.

But Emily was already dragging me across the parking lot to the entrance. I patted my pocket, making sure my phone was up. in it. Every fiber of my being was screaming to run away. I slept walk through the line in the ticket booth while Emily bounced happily. We got into a two-seat plastic sled. This one was actually a lot nicer than the one my mind wouldn't stop thinking about. It had two nice cushion seats, big grab handles, even a nice roll bar. The sled started up the track. I fought back to panic.

I swerved my head around, keeping the building in my view. I was terrified of losing sight of it. We made it to the top and Emily did a happy squeal as we started down the side of the mountain. My heart raced. Any second, any second, my mind told me we'd lose sight of the building. And then the ride would never end. The ride sped down the mountain.

My mind tortured me with thoughts of not only going to the building. me with thoughts of not only going through it again, but seeing Emily go through it. The ride went around a big banking turn. Emily kept shouting happily. How long before Carol reported us missing, I wondered. Could I keep Emily calm? What if it lasted even longer this time? What if this time it never ended? And then we were back at the start of the ride. The same attendant who had helped us into the sled was. was helping Emily out.

I stepped out. The attendant gave me a brief look, but said nothing. I guess I looked a little wild-eyed. I was fine. Emily was fine. It had been a perfectly normal, fun ride. That was fun, Daddy, thank you, Emily said. I forced to smile back.

It was fun. I responded, hoping, like I sounded like I meant it. I took Emily's hand and we walked back to the car. Mack sauce coming and barked happily. Carol looked up from the pint of Ben and Jerry's. She'd somehow acquired and added to her snack collection while we were gone and smiled at us. Did you have fun? she asked. It was so fun, Mommy said.

Carol smiled down at her, but then looked at me and frowned. Are you okay? Carol could read my face a lot better than the attendant could. You're pale. I smiled, and this time the smile felt real. You know what? Yeah. I think I'm okay.

Carol looked a little puzzled, but didn't press it. We loaded Emily back into her booster seat, stopped Max from trying desperately to eat half a discarded gas station hot dog off the ground, and got him back in the car. Carol and her small collection of snack food took her place in the passenger seat, and I got in the driver's seat. I smiled. I cranked a car, put it in gear.

I pulled out of the gas station back on the road. This time, accelerating just a little faster than I had in years. For your bonus episode, Creepy Presents, Love, written by Subsila and narrated by Rissa Montanaz. I've got a story to share with you tonight. The way it was told to me was filled with fear and disgust, with nothing but contempt for the protagonist. Meanwhile, without invalidating how vile some of the actions were, I must say I felt quite differently about it.

I couldn't help but feel the love underneath it all, the pride, the desperation, and the faithful abandon. I'll do my best to retell it as truthfully as I can. With any luck, the hopeless romantic in me won't paint too rosy of a picture. It started something like this. There was once a man who wanted for little. His parents were in possession of golden hearts and equally golden pockets. I hear this man was loved truly and utterly by all. His mother, as busy as she was, found time where there was none for her offspring. His dad found it in his tiredness to always have room for family in his endeavors.

His sister, as much as she was the standard bearer for rebellious behavior, always had it in her fair heart to appreciate and respect her sibling. The man wanted for nothing as he experienced a bountiful upbringing, be it at school or in his community. He was loved, and he loved in return. It was as if this man, a boy at the time, was made of nothing but heart. Not to say it was only an outward trait. He had much love for himself as well. He never harbored ill-will towards those who disliked him, because surely they would come around. Later, he became abundant in romance as well, with suitors begging for his time and attention.

Although he never admitted it, he was begging just as much as they all were. If only everyone could love him, if only he could love everyone. That is where hardship stained his existence for the first time. Not everyone could love like he did. and he was accused of many foul things he didn't understand were wrong. He just wanted to share his heart. Why was it so complicated? After the story's end, they found the first signs of what they called deviance and his home.

I personally think that's reductive to the thousands of ways someone can experience love, but anyway, he had built a shrine for loved ones. those with whom sharing himself wasn't as simple as he wished. At that point in his life, it was hundreds. Every single person he emotionally reached for and failed to find a spark with. This temple contains pages upon pages of eulogy, all written for the living, words for those who lived without his love. I am love itself.

For I cherish to cherish, and hold to hold. He repeated over and over. He always had such a warm smile, a smile he shared with whomever he could see, although I doubt he used his eyes. There was something he was seeking in others. There was something he wanted to take. He had also made effigies for those that grew thorn,

in their heart after meeting him. Those who, after experiencing his sweet embrace and intimate closeness, turn their backs on him. Those effigies were of flesh and earth, always representing how each one wore their heart on their sleeves. Some were pinned with dozens of cheesy secret poems he shouldn't have known about. Others had wrapped pigskin topped with a bow of arteries on which hidden tattoos were reproduced. My personal favorite was one that was a mountain of meat, carefully carved into bouquets of favorite flowers. He poured himself into everything he did for everyone he did it for.

These poor folks had something in them he wanted. A presence he claimed was beautiful, and needed to be shared and emboldened, polished, and worn proudly. These people were never the same afterwards. The pedestal he offered seemed so appealing yet it left them broken once they stepped down. These people lingered in the pain, and he moved on like he had gotten what he wanted out of them.

Understandably, restraining orders were filed, and to the best of everyone's knowledge, they were respected. I say that because, you see, the man vanished recently, last seen holding an elaborate bouquet on the porch of someone he had just met. The witness said he had the brightest smile, the warmth of a saint who found peace as he placed the package down and walked away. The reason there was a witness in the first place is that when this someone opened the door and picked up the bouquet, they screamed in pain and terror. They screamed as if their soul cracked and their heart twisted in response to the abomination they held. In the bouquet, there was no love nor flowers.

It was filled with shards of a broken mirror digging into their hands. The hundreds of jagged pieces were all facing inward, embracing a warm and bloodied human heart. The story goes that upon hearing that piercing shriek of pain, the heart beat one last time. The police were called, and they searched far and wide for that man, but he was never found. They also claim the heart's owner was unknown. despite forensic efforts, but they knew. After all, their machine set it as clear as day. They just didn't believe it. The organ was a perfect match for that man. The man who casually left it on the porch. So in the end, it seems he found a way to live to his heart's content.

Gazing ever inward at his own essence, bathing in the reflection of the purest love he ever did know. I'm not sure it was narcissism like some say. I think he experienced something deep within himself that nobody could ever understand. Something so different that he never fit in, that he never had the words to share it with anyone. Something he only ever saw in himself, and that's where he went to exist. forever. Or maybe he's dead in a ditch with only abusive cruelties to his name

and shame to his family. We'll never know. For more information on this podcast, including how to submit your own story for consideration, please visit creepypod.com. You can also follow us at creepypod on social media and YouTube. All stories told on this podcast are done so through creative common share-a-like licensing,

or with written consent from the authors. No portion of this podcast may be rebroadcast or otherwise distributed without the express written consent of the creepy podcast production team and the stories author.