Creepy - Always close your blinds when it snows at night & The Screams from Below

Episode Date: September 22, 2022

Always close your blinds when it snows at night***Written by: Gravsey_writes and Narrated by: Michelle Kane***The Screams from Below***Written by: Kyle Harrison and Narrated by: Cole Burkhardt ***Find our reward tiers and how to get your bonus magnet at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Title music by Alex Aldea 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.

Welcome to the bloody disgusting network. 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 books. violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised.

Creepy presents. Always close your blinds when it snows at night. Written by Gravesy writes and narrated by Michelle Kane. It was Christmas Eve when I first saw them. Night had come and blanketed our home in comforting darkness, but the moon still brightly illuminated. the fragile flakes that drifted from the sky and coated the ground. Mama always told us to keep the blinds closed when it snowed. She said there were things out there, dark things that would try to trick us.

But it was Christmas Eve, and I was so consumed by my childish jubilation that I decided just this once. It was okay if I didn't listen to Mama. I sat cross-legged on the top. bunk, my sister sound asleep below. I could hear her rhythmic breathing, almost sinking to the slow descent of the snowflakes. I kept my eyes glued to the inky sky, following the trails of white that rose ever higher, hoping to catch a glimpse of Santa's sleigh. The snow was mesmerizing, swirling and dancing like the ballet performers that were so common around that time of year. I caught myself more than once, drifting off into sweet embrace of slumber, but I shook myself awake and clung hard to my goal of catching Santa.

I was already seven years old, and I knew Santa wouldn't be coming around forever. This was my only chance. So I gridden my teeth and hardened my resolve to stand guard all night long. When the first few showed themselves, it was only in faint whisper. and brief glimpses out of the corner of my eyes. They darted from tree to tree, their form fading into the blackness beyond the small clearing of forest that our house sat on.

They sang to me, voices so melodic that they tickled my ears. Come play with us, come play with us, come play with us. I couldn't tell if it was a singular, voice or many. Their soft ministrations hung in the air like the snowflakes that dotted the night sky. Before I made a conscious decision, I felt my body moving. It felt like threads had tethered to my limbs

and moved me like a marionette as I climbed down the wooden ladder and creaked open my bedroom door. The house was dark and silent, save for the low hum of appliances that is always present. in modern homes. My parents had long since gone to bed, probably being cradled to sleep by their own dreams of childlike whimsy, and the thought of me and my sister's faces as we beheld the tree on Christmas morning. Come quickly! The voices beckoned me. Their sound was growing high and frantic as I tiptoed through the house. A sense of urgency bloomed in my chest, pushing me forward. When I got to the front door, I reached out blindly toward the floor feeling for my winter boots. No time, no time! The voices hissed. They were closer now, like someone was whispering directly in my ear.

I gasped, but quickly covered my mouth to stifle the noise. I have to go. I have to hurry. There's no time, I thought to myself, as I stood on my tippy toes to unlock the deadbolt and free the chain from the door. I didn't hesitate as I turned the knob, the howling wind lending me the strength I needed to swing the door open. The cold was biting, and I hissed when my bare feet made contact with the freezing snow. I sunk ankle-deep, the wind lifting and tugging my nightdress to expose more of my flesh to the freezing night. I thought briefly about retreating into the warmth of my bed, but as soon as that thought entered my head, I felt like the marionette threads had been yanked, pulling me forward and marching me toward the tree line. She's here! She's here! The voices cheered, their euphoria carrying through the silence of the night.

I myself smile through chattering teeth. How special am I to bring such joy to others, I thought. The snow crunched under my feet and every hair on my body stood tall in protest of the cold. But I ignored it. The voices got louder and more manic the further I walked, cheering me on and showering me with praise. Yes, I felt like the very special little girl indeed, like Alice in Wonderland or Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. Perhaps this was my present from Santa.

My very own adventure filled with magic and mystery. I beamed as I crossed the threshold of trees that made up the boundary of my yard. It was dark, the moon obscured by the thick forest canopy. But my eyes adjusted quickly. What little light there was reflected off the swirling snow, and soon shapes began to appear. Snowflakes danced and swayed together. At first they were fleeting and quickly shifted out of focus, but eventually I was surrounded by bright, sparkling figures. Their long limbs and flowing hair moved gracefully as they formed a circle around me and danced, each one twirling and swaying to some unheard beat.

The snow that trailed behind them as they moved gave them a ghostly figure. They were so beautiful in an almost haunting way. I should have been scared, but I wasn't. I was filled with awe at the way they moved so fluidly around me, like I was their sun and they were my planets. I stood in the center and watched as these ethereal beings put on a show just for me. Their movements were so smooth

that they could have been blown with the wind as they moved closer, closing in on me slowly. So slowly I didn't even notice at first. I began to make out features across their snow-white faces. large smiles and pointed teeth that at first glance looked menacing, but quickly became mesmerizing as they continued to dance. They had large milky white orbs that shone like the moon as eyes, and they took up most of the upper portion of their face.

They didn't blink, instead keeping their eyes wide and glued to me. Even as they danced and twirled, their faces always, pointed in my direction, sometimes even turning at unnatural angles to meet my gaze. The cold seemed to vanish as they moved ever closer to me, and eventually the voices began to sing. I looked at the figures, but none of their mouths moved. The songs seemed to be coming from all around me, inside me even, surrounding me with an orchestra of voices singing in a language I could not understand. Even without understanding the words, I was filled with a sense of welcome and belonging.

Whoever they were, they were overjoyed at my presence. I giggled as I tried to hum along with the tune, never able to keep pace with the winding melody. I felt the marionette strings tighten around my limbs and I started to dance along with them. I twirled in the snow watching as my nightdress fall. flared out around me like a ball gown. My toes were pink from the cold, and if I squinted, I could pretend they were ruby slippers. Join us, join us, join us. The words repeated in the back of my mind. The figures moved closer and closer, their long limbs and snowy bodies enveloping me.

I felt safe, surrounded by sparkling eyes and a naturally wide smile. I stretched my arms out, inviting the figures to embrace me, make me one with them. This is where I belonged. Their touch was like fire, long claw-like fingers dig into my skin, sending pinpricks of pain shooting through my body. I opened my mouth to scream, but as soon as I did, my mouth was filled with snow. I choked and gagged, but every attempt to clear. my mouth and nostrils was met with another wave of snow. The wind whipped violently, sending snow across

my face like razor blades. A gunshot sounded, a blast loud enough to cut through the wind. Then everything was still. In an instant, the night became unnaturally quiet. I found myself on the ground partially buried in the snow and quickly began to clear my face. I coughed and cleared my eyes before sitting up. The cold had returned, and I felt like my bones had been turned to ice. I shivered so violently it was hard to make my eyes focus. But when I looked around, the ethereal figures I'd been so mesmerized by were gone. I felt a pang of sadness shoot through my chest, like I had just missed out on something extraordinary, but it was quickly replaced by terror. And the figure's place stood rotting corpses, their skins sloughing off their bodies in big gray chunks, revealing white bone beneath.

The skin that still clung stubbornly to their bones was puckered and covered in yellow blisters. The tips of their fingers and ears were black with frostbite and their noses were nothing more than cavernous holes in the center of their faces. The snow was dotted with spots of blood and decay. I gagged at the sickly scent of rotting flesh. My eyes darted around me as I realized that I was surrounded. There was no escape. Their hollow faces were turned away from me, peering beyond the tree line with expressions ranging from curious to annoyed.

One took a step forward in the direction of the gunshot, and their movement was followed by the sand. of a shotgun being caught. You can't have her. It was Mama's voice, but different. It was low and commanded in a way I had never heard her speak. The corpses shuffled and groaned in place, some turning to look back at me.

Mama spoke again, her voice louder this time. You can have me instead, but I sure as hell ain't going down without a fight. Hisses and screeches pierced through the quiet. In an instant the wind picked up and how louder than I've ever heard before. It was deafening, but somehow through the noise, I heard another gunshot ring out. I tried to run, but everything was white. I couldn't see my own hand in front of my face, and panic began to set in.

I felt my heart hammering against my ribcage as I gasped for air, inhaling mouthfuls of snow again. Another gunshot rang out, and my vision began to spot. I fell to my knees and cried. When I woke up in the hospital three days later, Daddy told me I had been hallucinating from hypothermia. He also told me Mama had packed up and moved Arkansas to be with her family. He said she couldn't handle the pressure of my near death

and decided it was best if she left. But I know that's not true, especially because she still visits me on the coldest nights of the year. I never knew Mama could dance, as she sure is pretty when she does. Creepy Presents The Screams from Below, written by Kyle Harrison and narrated by Cole Burckhardt. My brother Marcus was already dead before I came to Odessa. He was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer just six months ago, making him a walking corpse. When he got the news, it changed him. He started to do crazier and crazier things just to get the thrill.

His latest idea of living on the edge was urban exploitation. and that brought him all the way to the edge of the eastern world. The news of his whereabouts came to me via an email from a small business just outside of the main downtown shopping area, Ajin Tours. Written entirely in Russian, this short message told me only that I could come and retrieve his body if I so wished. But when I met the owner,

he told me that it wouldn't be a simple matter. Your brother was a brave man. He wanted to walk the path of hill itself, he said, shaking his head sadly. As I soon discovered, Marcus had chosen to go explore the underground tunnels of Odessa, and did so without a guide. He insisted, claiming that he was trying to capture a glimpse of the chaos that this place offers, the manager explained. He felt so guilty that he insisted I should take the money,

had paid him. After the fourth day, and he did not return, I felt the only choice would be to call his next of kin. It is not the first time this has happened. The labyrinth entices many foolhardy people into its ma. I often warn them that the place is not to be disturbed, and insist that I accompany them, but they do not listen, he admitted, shaking his head sadly. I gave him an inscrutable smirk, thinking that the this was part of the scam he ran, offering an unsupervised tour into the heart of the Ukrainian city, and he would turn a blind eye for just a few extra dollars. Had Marcus not been American or had wealthy contacts, I doubted he would have called me at all. How often, I wondered, did he

simply send aspiring young men and women to their death, all for the allure of uncovering hidden secrets beneath the air. I'm not leaving until I collect his corpse, I told him. Then he gave me the same warning I was sure he could recite verbatim. The tunnels are expansive. Some say there are over a thousand access points across the city. It is a city under the city, an entire network of caves, tunnels, and complete darkness. And how much of the place do you know? The city laws allow me to only navigate the first level, perhaps only 5% of the tunnels that weave their way throughout Odessa, he admitted. I was sure that he expected I would simply take the money and leave,

but Marcus deserved better. So, instead, I asked him to take me to the point of no return. It wasn't long before there was little to see in front of us, save for the dim lighting of the head deer he gave me. Why would anyone want to come here? I whispered as we descended. The caves were claustrophobic already, and we were hardly a hundred feet below the surface,

I thought, as we turned a corner, and the space became even more confined. With each step, the outside world forgotten and a new nightmare born. There is a lot of history here. During the wars, some soldiers were here for six months. Can you even imagine being locked away

with no light or sense of time for that long? The maze can play tricks on your mind. The guide told me, his voice echoing as I saw some of the weird and disturbing graffiti on the walls. Pictures of devils and mutilated bodies hastily scrawled by pranksters and other logs made by half-sane men

that likely used what little tools they had to etch out a living day by day. To go on down here in the midst of nothingness took a certain amount of bravery and stupidity. I knew. This is as far as I can go. The guide told me as we reached another flight of stairs. I couldn't even see the first step below my feet

that darkness was so incapacitating. Well, you don't have to break the rules today. I'm not going to wind up another corpse for you to stare your gun. about. I told him, grabbing his arm and pushing him down. No, hold on just a minute. Let's be reasonable men about this. Weren't you listening to a thing, I said? This place is impossible to search every nook and cranny. Some say that only 80% of the tunnels have ever been registered. It would doom us both to go any further, he said nervously. I revealed the pistol from my coat and motioned him to start the descent. I will only use this if you try to

run, I told him. Marcus deserved a better final resting place, I told myself, as we went down to the next level. Slowly, we began to search the catacombs. Neither of us spoke as we surveyed the hollow tunnels. It was easy to see why anyone would believe this place was haunted. Not even rats were stirring across the floor. This is a bad idea. We will soon lose track of which way we came.

the guide warned. Hold this. I told him, as I took off my jacket. I had come prepared for this with a few torches that were small enough to stash in my pockets. So I laid one down next to the last corner as we crouched down and entered what looked like a military bunker. Scrawling digits covered the walls, a tapestry of sanity being broken as these men struggled to find a reason to keep going. My headlight caught a glimpse of something in the far corner, and I found myself a bit disturbed by it. It looked like a full-sized model of one of the soldiers, dressed in protective deer for the long months in the hazardous tunnels, gas-mast and all.

I thought you said that you didn't bring people down here, I told the guy, showing him the doll. How do you explain this? He mumbled an apology in Russian and said, There are things about this place I can't understand, sir. We truly should not be here. Your brother is dead. Please just accept that, he told me. But I wasn't satisfied and had to keep going deeper.

He was hiding something. The tunnels were holding back some vital truth, and it would take just another few levels for me to find it. He became quite. as we reached the next level, the oxygen apparently thinner here as we carefully searched the corridors. I was down to my last torch already. From here on out, only my senses would be able to guide me. I decided to keep my hand to the wall, mentally counting my steps as I kept the guide with an arm's length, and my weapon raised in case he decided to give me the slip. After a few

minutes of wotting in the pitch black. He tried again to convince me to turn back. We could be going in circles. There's no way to tell. May I recommend that we get an entire crew here first thing in the morning? Many men can make light work of this labyrinth. He told me. His voice was cracking. He was terrified to go further. I waved the gun for him to move on, convinced that meant the truth was close. But I dared not keep my eyes away from him. as we rounded another corner. It was a torch that I had laid down, just about to go out, and I ran to it, trying desperately to keep the light going.

There isn't much air down here, so it shouldn't surprise you. You are in a hellscape, just turn back, please. Clearly, we can't expect to find your brother, the guide pleaded. The torch was definitely an indication we were going in circles, but I didn't want to be deterred because of a simple loss of direction. If the roles were reversed, I knew Marcus would do anything to find me. You sound so convinced that he's dead, but you don't know my brother like I do. He might be lost, but I won't accept he is gone until I see the corpse myself, I said.

It was a lie, but it was enough to get the guide to be quiet for now as we pushed through to the next corridor. I wanted to try and retrace my steps and find a different path. But everyone that we came across seemed to lead to a whole new set of winding tunnels. It seemed pointless to talk now as we rounded corner after corner, lost in the dark that couldn't be escaped. Then we came to the bunker again, and I sat down on one of the cots, feeling dizzy and a bit light-headed. The guide was going completely pale, and at first I didn't.

understand why. Then, I turned toward the corner where the life-sized model of the soldier with the gasmast had been sitting, and realized it was missing. What the hell? I whispered, shining a light toward the next corridor. Then I saw something move in the dark, a silhouette on the edge of my vision. It was the soldier standing there in front of me, maybe only 10 meters away. the reflective surface of his gasmast, showing me that he was moving towards me at an alarming pace. I froze, my brain trying to catch up with my body as I realized this was a living person coming towards me. Immediately I shouted to the guide to move, but it was too late. The soldier was on him in less than a few seconds, strangling him to the ground as I backed away.

My only thought was to run. I didn't know where I could go, but I stumbled amid the tunnels and tried to think quickly of which way was the path out of this darkness. Behind me, I kept hearing the guide's stream, and then the tunnels went silent, and I realized I had hit a dead end. It also meant that my guide was likely dead. I still had the gun in hand, and I could hear the soldier moving about trying to find me, but it was impossible to see a thing.

I hud the wall again, realizing that if I couldn't see my attacker, that meant they also couldn't see me. I stayed completely still, listening to the darkness, thinking I was waiting to die. I could hear nothing at first. And then, breathing from within their mask, they were right in front of me. Do they sense me? I wasn't sure. I kept still for a moment until I actually...

felt their body against me. I reacted on instinct and pushed them down, running back the way I had come to the bunker. The guide was dead on the ground. His eyes bulged out and his tongue cut off to stop the sound of his streaming. I grabbed his phone and used it as an extra source of light to find my way toward the next corridor. It was another dead end. My mind was panicking. No wonder somebody came down here to end it all.

There wasn't an exit. Turning back, I saw the soldier standing at the end of the corridor, just gazing at me, perhaps trying to decide if I was worth dealing with. There seemed to be an air of familiarity to the way he stood. And then it hit me. You came here not to die, but to hide, I told him. the soldier took a step forward. Well, then you've got your wish.

Let me go. Let me get out of here alive and I won't tell anyone, I said. Another step, and they were showing their weapon of choice, curved, serrated blade. No one has to know. As far as the world is concerned, you are dead. It can stay that way and you can just keep doing whatever it is you were doing here. I can make up a story. Tell them that there was a cave-in or something.

I begged, or just that you got mudged. It doesn't have to be this way. He was standing only a few meters away now. The blade probably inches from stabbing into my chest. I know you have nothing to lose. But please, I still have a family. I still want to keep going, I sobbed. The soldier held up a finger to his mask. Then he took just step aside and gestured for me to leave. I hesitated for a second, trying to understand what might be going through his head. Why had he chosen any of this? But I didn't dare question the chance to escape. I left him there in the darkness, stumbling to find an escape.

It felt like hours before I could really even get a sense of location. We only saw each other once more when I heard the sound of bones breaking and realized he was feasting on the guide's cartus. His back turned to me as he hunched over the corpse like a wild animal. I don't even know if he recognized that I was watching. Instead, I left those tunnels behind and spent the next ten hours trying to find a way out, my breathing ragged and heavy, my body sore and hardly able to move. Eventually, I did make an exit, managing to crawl through a drainage pipe to a southern part of Odessa,

I smelled rank and looked like I hadn't slept for days. But at least I was free with my life. I traveled back to the States the next day and did exactly what I told him I would do. The beneficiaries accepted my story and read Marcus's will a week later. Standing in there listening to them, divide what money he had left like it was lots was sickening. and some part of me understood his need to escape society, to hide in the unknown and never be seen again. I tell myself he is gone now,

that no sane person could live that long in those conditions under the city. But sometimes I have to go back there, walking the streets of Odessa, and I hear the streams, and I know, My brother is still below. 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 Commons Sherrillite licensing or with written consideration. 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.