Creepy - An Ocean of Asphalt & Treacherous Commute

Episode Date: March 20, 2025

An Ocean of Asphalt***Written by: Some Unholy Obscenity and Narrated by: Owen McCuen***Treacherous Commute***Written by: No One of Consequence and Narrated by: JV Hampton-VanSant***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.

No. 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 are simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. The P presents an ocean of asphalt, written by someone wholly obscenity and narrated by Owen McCune. The boat was rocking slightly from an influx of small waves.

Daniel was sitting cross-legged and staring off into sea. He'd been rather quiet this morning, but I was trying not to take it personally. It was early as hell, so I couldn't blame him for being tired. Despite how many times we'd done these 5 a.m. boat trips, they can be a slog to get up for her. And not only that, but we were missing Reagan's boisterous energy. She was always the most excited for these, and there was a suffocating silence without her. I'm sure Daniel was feeling that silence as much as I was. I cracked open a beer and put it to my lips right away.

It went down a little rough. The air was crisp, but a bit heavy this morning. It felt thicker than I was used to. The sea was still a mystery, too. me, even though we'd been here so much. It wasn't like we were fishermen. This was just an escape for us, a way to forget the woes that land held so tightly. Our problems melted away in the smell of iodine and seaweed. Ominous serenity permeated the world when you couldn't see any of society. A reminder that there's more to all this than just us. Below us existing something we haven't even come close to

comprehending. I loved being out here. The mystery both calmed and fascinated me. At home I was a laborer. That's how Daniel and I had originally met, both of us working our hearts out for a lumber company that never gave us a second thought. He'd since left, but I was there all the same, toiling away until the end of time. The only things I had to distract myself were alcohol and these trips. Reagan was the healthiest part of my life, but since the accident, that was never happening again. I met her through Daniel. They had known each other for a lot of years. Their friendship had been sealed through near-miss-in-life and having each other's backs. And she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. She wore her hair short and didn't care about her terrible die jobs.

Reagan was like a manic pixie dream gone wrong. She dressed skimpy all the time. She dressed skimpy all the and swore like a sailor. Her presence was demanding, and I obeyed. I fell in love with her instantly. She frequented the same bar as Daniel and I often, so we saw each other often. Reagan wasted no time letting me know she was into me. I was so surprised, but so happy.

The two of us spent a hot and fast six months together. Then the car crash happened. Reagan was gone in an instant. I barely remember the funeral. I had drowned myself so heavy in drink. I was unlucky in love, and with Reagan gone, I didn't think I'd ever find it again. With her boisterous nature just vanished from our lives, there was this overwhelming silence. The alcohol took hold of me, but for the first time in my life, no one gave me hell for it.

It was the only time in which my love for the bottle was allowed. The only time it was understood. I pulled out my phone and looked at the lock screen. Reagan and I leaning against her of Volvo with smiles wide, her in her shorts and a tube top, me and my flannel and cutoffs. We were so happy then. I was grateful for Daniel's presence. I'm sure his pain was nearly as bad as my own.

He still chose to be out here with me at such an early hour. Even in his quiet state, he was still here. That was enough. The dark over the ocean is so peaceful, isn't it? No other boats around us, just the sound of the ocean itself and the smell of iodine. Daniel just shrugged. He was always going on about the way I spoke about things, called it worse than teenage poetry. I shook my head at his lack of response.

He would come around. He always did. I tossed my now empty beer can to the deck and grabbed two more out of the cooler. I placed one by Daniel and leaned myself facing away from him against the edge of the boat. Cracking open my second beer, I watched the waves from the other side of the boat. They looked strange today. The white-tipped ridges looked way too pristine. It almost felt like I was looking at an AI version of real waves, as if they'd been rendered far too uncanny.

I thought to myself that this is when the ocean was the prettiest. These hours before the world was awake, you could just feel the beauty on our planet. You could see why people painted and wrote stories about this. the sea. It was incredibly vast and endless. Miles below us existing such mystery and terror. I slipped for my beer with these thoughts in my head. I looked up to the sky and wondered when the sun would start to rise. Now the dark seems to be clinging longer than normal, don't you think? It must like it out here more than in the city. Daniel just shrugged again. I rose an eyebrow at his lack of attempt to try and enjoy this day.

He may have been tired, but I was expecting him to call me an emo loser for my way of speaking. I stood up and faced him. He was still facing away from me with his eyes to the sea. Hey, man, are you all right? You seem like you're in a bit of a... And I put my hand on his shoulder to make him look at me. When he turned around, I screamed for all the fish to hear. He had no face.

There was just flat skin where all his features should have been. I didn't understand. He'd been normal when we came out here, right? I realized I didn't remember how we got out here in the first place. I had no memory of the drive here and the trip out to the water. What was happening? Daniel finally stood up. He turned all the way around, and from what I could tell, he was looking at me. This was confirmed when he walked over to me and crouched down so that I was staring at his smooth make of a face.

It was like looking at the face of a shapeless mannequin with a wig on. on its head. He moved his head centimeters from my own face. I tried to back away from him, but was backed against the edge of the boat. Sound came from in front of me, but there was no mouth to make it. It was like that of a creaking floorboard. It got louder and louder each passing second that Daniel was so close to me until it finally began to formulate words. I was shivering from the fear as the words reached my ears. How many pieces did she pick out of her? her skin. He asked me this and then just hovered in front of me. My lip was quivering, trying to figure out what to say in response to this bizarre question. I couldn't find a semblance of tone or

emotion in what he'd said either, something that was obviously not available from his face. In the end, I was unable to get anything out of my mouth. Instead, I just watched as Daniel climbed on top of the edge of the boat and dove into the dark water below. I was stunned, in terror at all that had just transpired. I forced myself up to see what had become of Daniel after he dove in, but didn't see so much as a ripple. There was no sign of him. I was bordering on hyperventilation.

There was no processing what was happening. I went to finish off what was left in my second beer and choked harshly. I assumed my panic had affected my throat. I spat up beer and something lodged deep in my throat. It was strangling me. I had to reach into my mouth and grasp at whatever it was I was choking on. I gripped something small that felt round and metal. As I pulled it out, saliva dripping from the corner of my lip,

I realized it was longer than originally thought. Something long dragged itself along my tonsils and forced me to vomit the cheap beer that had just found its way into my stomach. Getting my hand covered in bile forced me to let go of the thing, but the velocity of my repulsion caused it to fall out on its own. It clinked to the floor in my pool of vomit, and I saw what it was for the first time. A key. It was a small, golden key. Fighting against my disgust, I reached down and picked it up.

I pulled it closer to me and saw that it was like an old cabinet key. The make was ornate, and it had filigree around its teeth. On top of that, it had an engraving in it. Hoist it. I didn't know what that was supposed to. to mean. I didn't know what the hell any of this meant. I didn't even believe it was happening. I assumed this was an incredibly intricate nightmare. My lack of memory for everything, Daniel being featureless. It all just added up to a dream state. It was the most lucid one I'd

ever experienced, but that was neither here nor there. I could still feel the vomit that had exploded out of me. I could still feel the breeze from the ocean. I tried hard to convince myself I was dreaming, but the message wouldn't stick. There was something too visceral for this to be a dream. So there I was, my guts on the deck of Daniel's boat, and Daniel himself having been vacant-faced and now somewhere in the ocean. I didn't know what to do from here, so I manned the helm and started heading back towards the marina.

It was the only thing I could muster, and all I could think of, just get out of here as fast as I possibly could. The silence on the water now made my skin crawl. That once comforting peace was now an oppressive nothingness. The vastness that was so fascinating was a mile too far to traverse. I traveled onwards toward the marina for an hour. Then two. Then four.

Far beyond what it had taken us to get out here, I think. We'd never gone four hours deep into the ocean before. It was impossible that I'd. I'd be this far out. Then again, the entirety of today felt like fog on the water. I couldn't see through what we'd done. All of it was so fuzzy in my head. It's like everything I did became dreamlike. But everything I was doing or experiencing, I was completely lucid for. I couldn't make heads or tails of it. My travels led me nowhere near land. But after hours upon hours, I finally came across something. It was bobbing listlessly on top of the water.

It looked a lot like a bobbing lure. Suddenly, the words on the key I pulled from my gullet came to my mind, hoist it. I was faced with a bout of trepidation, but I was able to convince myself to reach out and grip the lure. From there I began to pull. Something of great weight was attached to the bottom. Every pull upwards took all of my strength. This took me an insane amount of time to pull all the way up. It was as if this lure reached all the way to the bottom of the ocean.

I could not keep track of the time it took, since time itself could not be trusted anyways. Once the last of the line had breached the surface, and I saw what it was that the lure was attached to. It was a lockbox. An entire metal case had been connected by simple fishing line. I did little to try to make sense of it since none of the rest of today had made any. The lockbox had a keyhole that matched exactly the shape of the key that I had puked up. I took it and plunged it into the keyhole, turning it into a satisfying click from within. The thing was densely rusted and an absolute pain to open, but with grit and tenacity, I was able to pry the lid open. Inside it was just trash. It was just metal scrap, filled to the brim with different shapes and sizes of metal objects.

Still, I had done the work to pull it up, so I started to remove the scrap from the lockbox. The parts I removed started to look familiar. I wasn't much of a machinist, but these pieces of metal were beginning to fill me with nostalgia. My hand slid across something smooth and without a spot of rust. I yanked it in quick haste, that nostalgia amplifying as I pulled it from the lockbox. In my hand was a brand new Volvo hood ornament. My mind was suddenly struck with terrifying visions. I could hear screaming from several voices.

voices, the sounds of skidding tires and glass shattering, sirens fading in from the distance. I didn't know what any of this was. A migraine formed in my skull as I tried to piece it together. I could see nothing. The hallucinations were all auditory. All the sound then ceased at once. I was grateful for the silence once more. That was until it was replaced by one more sound.

I couldn't place what it was. It sounded as if something was being picked out of something squishy, like a knife being pulled out of a planted mushroom. I didn't know what it could be related to, but it filled me with sadness unlike I'd ever known. Involuntarily, I started screaming at the top of my lungs. I screamed until my throat burned. Tears fell from my eyes in a stinging waterfall. I collapsed, my knees slamming into the scattered pieces of scrap and opening the skin on my legs. The pain of the cuts came nowhere near the pain that the sound induced.

It was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. Agony beyond reason. Then it was all gone. The sound? The lockbox? All of it. Even my vomit had somehow vanished. I swiftly had vague memories of it.

I could remember all of what had just happened. But it had that same haze that all the other experiences had. except for one thing, the pain. That horrible sensation remained in me. It felt as if it was the only thing that was real anymore. I trembled in terror. I wanted to go home so badly. I did not know what was happening to me or why.

I hugged myself tightly and closed my eyes. I tried to make myself wake up from this awful nightmare to no avail. The tears returned without help. I felt so small. I was powerless in this strangeness, and I knew not how to proceed. The only thing I could do was keep going. That was the only option available to me. I aimed to go back to the helm, but not without a beer in hand.

If I was going to deal with this, I wasn't going to do it sober. I walked to the cooler and opened it to reveal that it had somehow restocked itself. I just scoffed, trying to apply logic to this situation had failed me every time. now it wanted to do something nice for me? I just accepted it. I popped a can open and brought it to my lips. I continued onward. I was lost in thought while I made my way to wherever I was going.

I tried my hardest to figure out this puzzle, but it felt as if I was just slamming pieces into a brick wall, hoping they would fit. I had never heard those sounds before, and what had happened to Daniel? That this was a dream, and I needed to figure out what all these things, things represented. It should be metaphorical, but for what? Though the dream theory still didn't

stick right in my brain, it was like I was close to the answer, but still not grasping the big picture. I went to look at my phone again. Seeing her face would bring me comfort. I felt around my pockets with my free hand. I couldn't feel it anywhere. It was even vacant for my hoodie. I had dropped my phone. I scrambled out of the helm to check all over the boat for it. I spilled beer from my haphazard movement, but I barely noticed. The boat wasn't big enough for me to just not have seen it. It was simply gone. I exhaled deeply and let my eyes wander upward. Maybe I was praying for something to change. I don't know. When I looked back down, however, I saw something. Out on the water, I saw something floating away. It was small and black. It had to have been my phone.

I ran back and turned the boat around to go towards it. I lined it up perfectly alongside my phone so I could reach down and grab it. I pulled my phone out and turned it to my face. To my surprise, it was still on, and also to my surprise, the background was different. The Volvo and Reagan were both missing from it. It was just me in the photo, except I looked off. My face was flickering and blurry. My outfit was different. It was what I was wearing today, a gray hoodie and jeans. But I couldn't look away from my face. It was like watching a scratch-off ticket get shredded over and over again. It was tantalizing but filled me with intense anxiety. I set my phone on the deck and went to swig my beer again. I fell forward as the boat was

tipped out of nowhere. My face was thrown to look overboard, and I saw Daniel. His featureless face was again in front of me, and both of his hands were white-knuckling the edges of the boat. I tried to regain my balance to no avail. I was falling into the water. Daniel spoke again. I will hate you, Adam. I will hate you with everything I have. Once I know what you've done, I will hate you. His words barely reached me. my ears before I hit the water. My body thudded so hard I felt my bones crack. I pushed myself up and felt gravel dig into my palms. I was disoriented and lost. Had I not just been falling into the ocean? And where was Daniel? I stood up to get a grasp on my surroundings. I was standing

on a road. It seemed to be a familiar road to me, but I couldn't think of the name. It was in a civilized area, but seemed like a backroad of sorts. Ahead of me, I could see streetlights and houses. Amid them, I saw colorful lights flashing. Red on the left and blue on the right. I could see a streak of violet between the two. I did not know where I was, but I knew I needed to be there. That was where I was supposed to be.

I walked towards the lights with my mouth agape and my eyes wide with wonder. This had been such an odd experience, such an odd dream. This somehow felt like the end of it. Like any moment, I was about to wake up. I did not know how long it took me to get to the lights I desired so. I was just there at some point. I saw the lights from up close now as they radiated off of police cars and the ambulance. I meandered forward, looking for a sign of something I recognized.

In the midst of these vehicles was a crowd of people gathered around. I saw blood and sharp. yards of glass everywhere. I heard a click and then a rolling of wheels. Two stretchers were being loaded into the ambulance and I felt it. I felt that recognition I was looking for. With stars still in my eyes, I made my way onto the ambulance. The crowd of people and the authorities all looked like Daniel. They had no facial features. Everyone, a blank slate. I sat on the bench next to a paramedic as the other closed the ambulance doors. I think by that time I had already figured it out.

I couldn't tell you. I'm not even sure who I'm sharing this with. When they uncovered the two bodies, I was not shocked. I was not rattled. It was simply an, ah, that explains everything, moment for me.

Reagan was lifeless, and her face had been torn into shreds. Lacerations had covered her once beautiful face so that all one could see was red. My body was in no better condition. My throat had been cut by something, my head and arms shredded by an ocean of asphalt, and the Volvo Hood ornament had been lodged in my stomach from when we both flew through the windshield.

And when I saw myself, I remembered everything. There was no boating trip. There was no funeral. I didn't remember those things because they didn't happen. What had happened was Reagan and I had left the bar close to closing. Like usual, I had drank myself stupid. Daniel had tried to tell me not to drive home, and I told him to go fuck himself. Reagan double-checked that I was okay.

I told her yes. I told Reagan that I was okay to drive. And not ten minutes down the road, I had crashed into a truck going 70 and a 55. Neither of our airbags deployed. neither of us were wearing seatbelts. I flung myself forwards hard enough to take the ornament off with my guts. My neck had connected with the trucks now destroyed roof. I laid on the ground and bled out while I searched for Reagan.

I found her laying on her back. Glass shards were embedded deep in her face. My final moments were watching as she slowly picked the pieces out of her face. It sounded like a knife, being pulled. out of a planted mushroom. With what little energy I had left, I screamed. A gargled mess left my throat, as tears and blood coagulated. It was the most pain I had ever felt in my entire life.

I know not what to do with this knowledge, the knowledge that I killed the only woman I loved, and only now see the extent of my selfishness. The scene has already vanished from my eyes. I'm once again on the boat. There's nothing left for me to do, except for drink. Creepy presents treacherous commute, written by no one of consequence, and narrated by J.V. Hampton-V. Van Sant.

Why is it that none of the good jobs are ever that close? It seems that no matter where I live, every decent job is always 30 miles away or more. The only things I can get that are close are gas stations, convenience stores, and fast food chains. Everything that pays a large enough wage to live off either requires more schooling than I've got, more experience than anyone's been willing to give me, or you have to know someone. Thank you very fucking much, corporate America. The best job I've ever been able to get is with a manufacturing company clear on the other side of town. The job is 45 miles straight through town, out past city limits and at the edge of the next county.

If they weren't paying $25 an hour, I'd never consider it. Hell, the only reason I got the job is because of my brother. Carrie had been working for Nisha for more than a year when I moved back, and I've been going from one crappy job to another. It's not that I kept getting fired, but quit for either better working conditions, the higher-ups were fucking creeps, or the location was easier to get to. Moving back here hadn't been a choice I made lightly and had been a necessity. I was flat broke, recently single, and my ex stole most of my shit, including my goddamn car.

Being without transportation meant I had to use public transportation. Using one of the ride chair apps wasn't an option since I was flat broke, so the bus it was. At one point, I was working three different jobs and still couldn't make a dent in my debt. I was looking up at broke in a bad way. For fuck's sake, I was even donating plasma twice a week, and the most luxurious meal I could afford was a whole packet of ramen with the flavor packet. Sometimes it was so bad that I had to split one packet for two meals, and only one got the flavor packet.

How pathetic is that? I pretty much had to couch-surf between the relatives willing to take me in until Carrie came by our uncles one day. He'd just gotten himself a nice apartment and offered me the second bedroom. It was closer to one of my jobs, and the idea of sleeping in a room that had an actual door to it and wasn't in a common area, sold me in an instant.

After my third week with him, we sat down and looked at my finances. I wanted to cry, and he opened a six-pack to share when we had everything organized in front of us. Cutting the fat wasn't easy for one simple fact. You have to have fat to cut out of a budget, and I was so anorexic that I should have been dead. It's not like I had streaming apps I was paying for or ate out a lot. Hell, I didn't eat out at all.

Most of my hot meals came from the crappy gas station I worked at, and it was only when the hot food they had got too old to sell. A person can survive off hot dogs and shitty burritos for a long time. It's not a good lifestyle, but a person, person does what they have to in order to survive. As the older sibling, I should have been helping carry out. But my abysmal life choices made me the least successful one. He decided to talk to a friend of his in HR and got me an interview with Nisha. Due to a non-disclosure agreement I signed, I can't say exactly what the work is, only that it's

manufacturing. Sitting across from that well-dressed blonde, I could tell she wasn't impressed by my work history, education, general background, or my appearance. I'd worn my best clothes, and they didn't go together well. But it was the only shirt and pants I owned that didn't have stains or holes. It's a sad fucking life when you can't even afford to shop at Goodwill. The only reason Leslie even agreed to have a sit-down with me was because Carrie was one of their best employees. He never called in, always showed up early, did his work faster and more efficiently than his co-workers,

and was a rising star. In less than a year, he went from being a line worker to group lead and was working his way up to department head. After our initial meeting, Carrie joined us in Leslie's office to discuss the terms of my potential employment. Under normal circumstances, someone with my work history wouldn't even be considered for a position. Nisha has a zero-tolerance policy that covers more than the average company. When you make such important products that are widely used by the general public and sold worldwide, the standard is a lot higher than most employers.

Among the things we discussed was attendance. If I showed up late or called in once during my first six months, not only would I be terminated, but it would damage Carrie's standing with the company. He explained that I was living with him for the time being and didn't have my own transportation. So I'd be arriving with him every day.

This was a mark in my favor in Leslie's eye, but it kind of felt like I was a wayward child that needed someone to hold their hand to function. Normally, I'd stand up for myself and claim that I'm not a child, but Carrie was doing me a huge favor, and I didn't want to seem like an ingrate. Carrie had to make some promises in order for Leslie to agree to hire me. me. I wouldn't be working directly for him, but in the department next to his. This way, there wouldn't be any favoritism within his department, but he could still keep an eye on me. This didn't help the feeling of being treated like a child, but I decided to look at it differently.

My understanding of the work was that it wasn't hard. It was an assembly line, so I would be responsible for attaching four or five parts to the whole of the item, and that's it. I was determined to prove to this woman that I could do the job and do it well. That's exactly what I did. Carrie made sure I got up early enough in the morning to not only get ready for work, but to eat something that actually had nutritional value. At that point, I was pretty much skin and bones, but he did the grocery shopping and cooked.

My idea of cooking was throwing something in the microwave and waiting long enough for it to cool down before diving in. The first three weeks of the job was all about learning it and getting accustomed to the routine. It was pretty simple, and I picked it up quickly. But my team lead hovered around me like a hawk during those three weeks. At first, I thought it was creepy having those eyes glued to me, watching my every move and making comments here and there. Some of them were helpful, so I changed what I was doing and developed a flow.

When we broke for lunch, I went to the cafeteria with Carrie, and we had a light lunch. Most people didn't realize we were related, but having an obvious close tie to Carrie seemed to elevate my status within my department. Once my team lead stopped hovering, I relaxed a little, but not in a sense that I started slacking off. No, I was more comfortable with the work and started picking up speed. Granted, you can only go as fast as the line moves, but the only time something went wrong at my station, it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the machines. That sort of thing happens sometimes, and it only reflects badly on me if I screw up because of something I did,

like a part gets jammed in the machine because it wasn't properly placed. Once my six months was up, not only was my probation over, but my financial situation had massively improved. A good chunk of my debt was gone, and my credit score was up. I wasn't in the position to get my own place, but I did pitch in with the rent and got a certified used car. I wasn't the only one doing better. Carrie had been bringing more people to Leslie's attention, both within the company and from the outside. At least eight other people were hired at his recommendation, and each turned out to be a reliable asset to Nisha. None had excelled like I had, but they were all reliable.

This actually changed Carrie's upward trajectory, and he moved off the floor to the administrative side as a recruiter. Basically, he got a huge promotion, raise, and didn't have to work as many hours. That, and he got to travel for work, too. It's been a month since his promotion, and he left yesterday, for an extended training session in another country. Good timing on his part, because the weather today is absolute shit. As far as we live from work,

the normal hour it takes to get there is going to be a lot longer. The temperature has dropped to near the point of freezing, and the rain has been fairly steady. My weather app says there is supposed to be two inches before to be, Before his promotion, I'd usually get a nap on the way to work. But now that we don't work the same hours, I was forced to use my own car. Up till now, I hadn't minded, but bad weather always made me uneasy.

People on the road can be truly stupid and moronic on good days, but they seem to get worse when the weather moves in. A lot of traffic will slow down on wet roads. But then there's those people who try to treat it like nothing is different. They still zoom up past you, ride your ass when you're not going fast enough for them in a left lane, and weave between lanes like they're in a race. I always have the same thought when these people move past me. Fuck off, you rotten jackass.

I'll see you at the scene of the accident. It's probably not the best thing to wish someone would crash their car because they're a fucking moron, but it's what they deserve. Getting to work hadn't been that bad, but then again, the weather wasn't supposed to really get bad until lunchtime. Since the factory is massive and doesn't have any windows from the floor, I almost forgot about the weather. Then there was a tremendous boom from outside,

and for a moment I thought something exploded. But the echo of it over the machines sounded familiar. Just thunder, I realized, but it was so loud that it must have been right over our our heads. And then the power went out. From what I overhear from the team leads, a transformer outside was struck by lightning. It took security at least 10 minutes to manually open the electronically locked doors. When they got the call over the radio that the way was clear, they made their announcement. We were released early. Getting out of the part of the part,

parking lot was a pain in the ass. Due to the factory being a secure location, there's only one gate in and another leading out. The only upside is the electronic gate arm is always up during the work week, and the chain-linked fence doesn't have an electric mechanism. It takes 15 minutes for me to get out of the parking. lot, and that was with a whole lot of swearing. The normal speed on the freeway is 70, 65 through the city, but at this hour, there shouldn't be that much traffic. I say shouldn't, but there is a fuck ton of it, too. There aren't that many other businesses out this far from the city, but I do notice a larger than average number of 18 wheelers with trailers.

As I roll at a steady 70 miles an hour, my GPS randomly decides to reroute my way home and tells me to take the next exit. My current route is estimating my arrival home to be two hours. And that's fucking ridiculous. I'm willing to bet one of those fuckwads that passed me on my way to work, finally got in that accident I wished on them. Yeah, it serves them right, but the timing is abysmal. Making my way to the right lane, I finally get through

when an 18-wheeler flashes his high beams at my blinker, signaling me to go. I give a little wave even if he can't see it, and get the hell off the freeway. Even with traffic lights, going down back streets and even a stint in the boonies, this detour is supposed to shave 45 minutes off my commute. The lights of civilization begin to fade behind me as I travel to the more rural areas. But more than that, the rain is obscuring so much of the road in front of me. At one point, the wind pushes my car so badly that I veer off to the side of the road, nearly getting stuck.

I managed to get back onto the blacktop, but it was a struggle. As I get my speed back up to 40, I have to slam on the brakes. A deer or something crosses the road in front of me, but not as fast as a deer normally would. Perhaps it's already been hit and it's limping its way to safety, though I haven't seen another car on the road since I got into this area. Following the GPS's directions, I turned this way and that, going straight for long distances and curving slightly. Twice more I have to slam on the brakes as deer run out in front of me

but again, slower than they normally do. It's not the same deer each time, is it? That would be the weirdest coincidence ever. Coming to a four-way stop, I look both ways before turning right. Still not seeing another car, I continue onward, even as the graying fields to the side start turning into trees. I haven't been so far out of the city to see this many trees around a public road, and they seem to be getting dense.

It makes the already bleak terrain seem darker, and I turn on my brights. The light is more than enough to show me the winding road, but it turns a little too much for me to go fast at all. The road starts going downhill, and I have to hit the brakes, not due to another deer, but because the angle of the road is steep and comes to a low water crossing, so low that it's completely flooded out by the rain. I managed to stop just short of it, but just barely. unsure if my car can make it across the crossing,

I put it in reverse and hit the gas. My car starts going back, but the angle gets to be too steep, the road too wet, and I start to slow. When I begin to drift to the side, I remove my foot from the accelerator and drift back down. By the time I get back to my starting point, I hit the gas and try to do it.

it again, this time in the center of the road. Praying for enough traction, I pressed the pedal to the floor and managed to get a little higher this time, but it's no good. Then a crazy thought occurs to me, and I throw it into drive, stomping on the gas. My car rockets to the low water crossing, and giant waves shoot up on either side. The car slows considerably, but I don't let up on the gas. Getting halfway across, my forward momentum gives out. It's not that the car stalled or anything, but I've lost all traction,

like the middle of the crossing is nothing more than a mud puddle. As I sit in the middle of the crossing, I pull out my phone and try to call for help. Wouldn't you know it? There's no fucking. signal. Looking around, I try to figure out my next move when something comes out of the darkness in front of me. It stopped right in front of the headlights as if looking at me through the windshield. It's another deer, but something about the antlers sparks recognition in my mind. One side is significantly larger than the other, like part of it,

was broken off or something. Hadn't the first deer's antlers been like that? The deer takes a step closer and then another. I finally see why it was moving slower than a normal deer. It doesn't look like a hunter wounded it, but there is a large, curved abrasion on its stomach. It looks like it got bitten by some. something very large, too large to exist in reality.

Something big splashes into the water to the left of my car, sending a tidal wave of water and mud all over my windows. Hitting the wipers, they try to clear the windshield, but the mud is thick and smears more than it comes off. On the upside, the rain is helping the wipers get rid of it. There's a lot of commotion outside, but I can't see anything. Something is moving around out there, something big, creating waves large enough to hit my car. I put the wipers on high to get them cleared faster, but whatever the hell is going on out there is moving around me.

Then I hear something heart-wrenching, something brutal and difficult. difficult to listen to. I didn't think a deer could scream, but the animal sounds coming at me through the mud-covered windows is high-pitched and desperate. All at once, the screaming stops and something wet splashes over the back windshield. The mud hadn't hit back there,

so I turned to look at what's on my car now. I can't see much, but whatever just got thrown back there is red. Holy shit, is that deer blood? The longer I look, the more the rain makes it run. It also looks like there's something on the trunk, and as I strain in my seatbelt to get a better look, I realize it's one of the poor animal's organs. Before I can think of anything to do, something very large is directly behind my car and putting front legs on my bumper.

There's very little light to see the details of this animal, but it's much larger than anything I've ever seen outside of a zoo. It's either got a large, bulbous head, or there are two freaking heads out there. And one of them tries to reach the morsel on my car, but its neck is too short. It continues trying to get it, and I realize the car is moving. This thing is strong enough to stand in mud so deep that my might be. My tires have no traction, and is pushing me while trying to get at the innards it casually tossed onto my trunk. I am freaked the hell out and start slinking down in my seat. Whatever the thing is, it doesn't appear to know I'm inside, and I'd like to keep it that way.

Finally, turning back to face forward, I see that the windshield is cleared out enough for me to see, which isn't necessarily a good thing. Sitting on the hood of my car is the broken antler from the deer's head. Trying not to focus on that, I look beyond my hood and see the road that climbs back up. The thing behind me is still pushing me, and I see. I slowly put my car in drive. Just a few more feet, I keep thinking, and after two agonizing minutes, I slightly press down on the accelerator.

The engine revs up some, but I don't feel myself being propelled forward any faster. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I see the thing getting ever so closer to the morsel. In a desperate attempt, I press down on the gas harder. By some miracle, my car lurches forward, and I climb up the road. Finally, getting out of that ditch or creek or whatever the fuck it was, I drive faster than is safe.

The broken antler eventually gets knocked off due to the wind, and I can only hope that whatever was on my trunk does the same thing. The last thing I need is for that creature to track me down because I still have the last scrap of its meal. 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 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 story's author.