Creepy - Bird Brain & Monster Blood

Episode Date: January 4, 2024

Bird Brain***Written By: Scott Talbot Evans and Narrated By: Alicia Atkins***Monster Blood***Written by: No One of Consequence and Narrated by: Nate DuFort***Support the show at patreon.com/creepypod***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 creepypastas and urban legends in the world. Whether these stories truly happened or are simply fabrications is for you to decide. These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. which listener discretion is advised. The birds jerk their heads and coo. My ears block out their wild racket like second nature.

Every joint in my gnarled finger hurts, but I can still type quickly and accurately. My 85-year-old eyes strained to see the screen, yet they still twinkle. The cursor blinks on a blank space next to the word donor. I enter 47. The border around Caged No. 47 lights up red. Bird 47 diligently pecks away at a row of colored levers. It taps the blue key five times, the purple key once, and the green key five times. Then a food pellet drops from the dispenser.

It attacks the pellet and finishes it in three mites, then goes back to playing the magic sequence on its keyboard again, for another reward. Next to recipient, I type in 118. A green light outlines compartment number 118. This bird also has a keyboard in its cell, but he is completely oblivious to it, and instead pecks at the floor in the vain hope of finding a stray seed. I hit transfer. Bird 47 squawks and collapses dead.

Bird 118 looks around, and for the first time in his life goes over to the keyboard and pecks the blue key five times, the purple key once, and the green key five times. A pellet dispenses to its quick demise. Yes! I jump out of my chair without even realizing it. The neural transfer worked. Imagine all the wonderful applications. All the miraculous ways this is going to help humanity. I'll be on every news channel.

The scene of me accepting my Nobel Prize in Medicine plays through my head. Pain doubles me over. It feels like a liter of boiling oil was injected into my lower spine, and is seeping through my guts, scalding my bones, scalding my belly. belly and thighs from the inside. Stage four cancer. Two months to live. Tops. Why now? When I'm so close. I transfer thoughts from one bird to another for the first time in history. The extrapolation from birds to humans is only a matter of time. The neural process is basically the same, albeit slightly more complex in humans, some more than others. If only I had a

few more months. I could see this paper published. I've worked my whole life for this. It isn't fair. I'll never live to see the wonders of this technology. If only I had a little more time, this procedure might have saved me. I could have transferred my mind into a fresh young body. I'd be able to continue my work for another hundred years. I'm the inventor. Shouldn't I benefit from this? course I should. Insomely, I know what I'm going to do. I can weigh the pros and cons later. What do I have to lose? If I die, the team will go on and publish the paper without me. Sure, I would be punished for going against the ethical protocols, but I could plead self-defense. I was saving my own life. Maybe I'll transfer into a man's body. Wouldn't that be a hoot?

Or maybe a different race? So many children. choices. Then it all comes to a screeching halt. Where am I going to find someone willing to have my mind put into their body? I could get someone with a low IQ. I'd be offering them a chance to be smart. I bet there are lots of people who would jump at that chance. But would I be exploiting them? Who cares? I'm desperate. Wait a minute. Of course. I have money. I've saved for decades. What better to spend it on? For a million dollars, they'll be coming out of the woodwork. This is going to work. Of course, I'll have to do all this secretly. I'll work at night when no one is around, and I'll set up a private lab in one of the auxiliary rooms. I'm the director. I can do

whatever I want. I place an ad for test subjects in a popular magazine. My name and the universities are conveniently omitted. For further details, go to the website, which, of course, is untraceable back to me. Applicants fail out an online questionnaire. I want someone with healthy young body and good genes. The questions that weed out most people are, Would you be willing to have the thoughts of another person permanently transferred into your brain? Your own thoughts would still remain. Would you be willing to undergo a procedure that has a very small chance of permanent brain damage? I interview 14 candidates in person and give them the full details of what is proposed.

Most were creeped out, but in the end I'm left with four usable subjects. To be honest, I chose the best-looking one, a male, age 28, Craig Higby. I keep the other three on file as standbys, just in case. I gave him a comprehensive medical exam. He's quite healthy. While I'm taking his blood pressure, he asked, Will we be able to talk to each other? I don't know exactly.

This has never been done before. Both our minds will be in there together. I had him sign waivers. Of course, they were all a sham. If anyone finds out, I'll go to jail for the rest of my life. Which would work out to a couple of weeks, at least. The big night comes. The lab is quiet.

I attached the electrodes to his scalp. He's shaking from nerves. As I attached them to myself, he asked, If your mind is getting transferred, who's going to run the machines? I laugh. The computers run themselves. They do everything. We just sit back and relax.

He was as white as a ghost and had a look of dread on his face. It's okay. Everything is going to be fine. The machines whizz and whir. I feel a jolt, and that's the last thing I remember. I wake up. Where am I? What's going on?

I peck at the floor. There's nothing to eat here. Maybe if I peck some more, something will turn up. I look around and see the main computer room. No one is around. The only sound is the gentle cooing of the birds. It comes back to me. The procedure. It must have worked. I'm in the donor. But this isn't the auxiliary room.

I look at my hand, but it isn't the hand. I see feathers. My arm feels funny. In fact, my whole body feels different. I look down and see next to me a gigantic rainbow-colored keyboard. My head bobs back and fourth. I peck at the blue key five times, the purple once, and the green key five times. A pellet drops in front of me. Yes, I still got it. Wait a minute. What is going on? The computer must have redirected the circuit for some reason. I bet that guy chickened out at the last second. Of course. The protocol would reroute to the next available subject, Bird 118. "'This can't be happening. "'I'm trapped inside a small compartment.

"'I have to transfer again into a human body.' "'I listen to the clucks of the other birds. "'They're all saying almost identical things. "'I'm hungry. Where's the food? Has anyone found any food?' "'Edwin comes in carrying a bucket of soapy water, "'a squeegee and a roll of paper towels. "'That's right. It's Tuesday. "'Cage-cleaning day.'

I bang on the glass, but my wings don't make a good rapping sound. I squawk and flap wildly, but what's the point? I'm just another crazy bird to him. He is an expert at ignoring our antics. I try to scream, Edwin! But this stupid bird mouth is useless. Parrots are able to mimic human sound. It must be possible, but it's going to take time to practice.

I watch his movements intently. What can I do to attract his attention? He rolls out his ladder. He starts at the top left, opens compartment number one, takes the bird out and places it on top of the ladder. When he opens my cell, I can make a break for it. All I have to do is fly over to the keyboard and pack out a message. Yes, that could work.

It'll be a while before he reaches the bottom row. That gives me time to plan. Edwin mops out the compartment, dries it with paper towels, and puts the bird back. The whole process only takes a minute. He rolls the ladder over one place to the right and repeats the process. He works methodically and monotonously, like a good lap tech should. The birds have spent their whole lives in cages. They don't even try to escape.

They wouldn't know how to survive without someone feeding them pellets. Edwin won't be expecting me to make my move. He finishes the top row and takes a break. He walks right into my office. Hey, what are you doing? You're not supposed to be in there. He opens my personal mini-fridge and helps himself to my chicken salad sandwich. Is that so?

When I get out of here, you are so fired. He comes back to the cage room. For a moment, he faces my way. I use my wing to trace out SOS and big letters. He catches his attention for a moment, but he shakes his head and continues working. Stupid, Edwin. Don't you know how to read? A while later, he looks at me again.

I clench my beak and trace out very slowly. S. Come on, Edwin. Even you can understand this. Edwin shudders. These things get me the creeps. He goes back to scrubbing. I'll have to wait until one of the interns come.

They have better reading skills. The smell of urine and feces makes me rich. We really should clean these things out more often. I spot the reflection in the glass, a bird staring straight at me. That's me. I can't believe it. I wave it myself. Sure enough, reflection waves back.

This is crazy. I watch Edwin's reflection. As soon as he opens that, door, I'm gone. I test my wings. I think I remember how to fly. Finally, Edwin opens my door and I bolt. I'm flying. Yes, it's like riding a bicycle. This is pretty cool. I fly straight to the bank of terminals. Edwin doesn't bother chasing me. Go ahead. Have your fun. You can't get that far. He cleans my apartment, patiently dries it out, then calmly walks into the computer room. Okay, playtime is over.

I peck as fast as I can. I'm about to write a line before Edwin grabs me. His hands are hot and stupid. He chuckles. Look at you, trying to work a computer. You'll go far in this organization. He brings me back into the cage room. Edwin, you stupid idiot, read the message.

I fight and flap for my life. If he locks me up again, I'll never get out. I peck his hand as hard as I can. Hey! He draws blood and he lets go. I fly into the ceiling. Stupid bird? What'd you do that for?

He rubs his wound. That one is a fighter. I don't know where I'm going, but I'm in a little. a hurry. I circle the room. By luck, one of the interns comes in, and I fly right out into the corridor. Someone up there must like me, because Dr. Fine just entered the building, and the automatic doors are wide open. In a spurt of instinct, I fly outside to freedom, sun, wind, and trees. I land on the shoulder of the statue of the university's founder. Someone is bound to read the note I typed. stay close to the lab in case they come looking for me.

But in case they don't, I need a plan B. Maybe I could find a piece of charcoal and use it to write a message. A hunger pain grabs my attention. Suddenly I realize that my normal excruciating pain is not there anymore. My cancer is gone. That's something to be happy about. I've cured my cancer. That should be worth a no-bill.

I've got to get something to be. eat. I'll need my strength. I look around and see an old lady tossing breadcrumbs through a crowd of pigeons. Ask and ye shall receive. I gobble up a delicious piece of bread when another pigeon comes over and steals it right out of my mouth. Hey, you stupid idiot, that's my piece. I feel a sharp stab to my back and turn around. There is a large bird pecking me. Hey, what's your problem? These birds are uncooled. pigs, absolutely no table manners, and as stupid as rocks. They're all fighting over the same pieces, while those big ones over there go unnoticed. I sneak over to it. Intelligence has its advantages. I feast as much as I can before the others discover my secret.

When the others come, I leave. I've had my fill. Let them peck each other to death. Then the People come and chase everybody away. Even if I do get a message to the team, they may not transfer me back. It would go against every ethics protocol in books. I may have to live out the rest of my life as a bird. I suppose it's not so bad. I guess one could get used to anything. I spot a broken pencil on the ground.

I can bite off a piece of lead and hold it in my beak. That should work. It shouldn't be too hard to find. find a scrap of paper. I'll drop a note right in the center of Dr. Gassier's desk. He'll have to read it. He'll understand. I practice holding the lead in my beak. The birds are making an awful racket, chirping energetically. Would you shut up? Can't you see that a genius is at work? The bird part of my brain feels like it knows what they're saying, but I have more important things to worry about right now. Suddenly, they're an explosion.

I dropped the pencil, lad. The ground is falling away from me rapidly. What's going on? I look up to see a hawk holding me like a pincushion. Yet there is absolutely no pain. Of course. Those chirps. They were telling me to watch out.

I should have listened. Stupid bird. Well, I guess that's it for me. My goose is cooking. now. Oh well, I had a good life. The team will go on without me. My name will be famous. I made my contribution. Too bad I won't get to enjoy it. Maybe they'll build a statue of me someday. I hope they keep the birds away from it. Back of the lab, a tech wearing a clean white coat and holding a stack of computer printouts sits down at the terminal to inter mind-numbing data.

He reads something written across his screen, and his jaw drops. Help. This is Dr. Birdburn. I've accidentally transferred my mind to Bird 118. Please help me. He presents Monster Blood, written by known of consequence, and narrated by Nate Dufort. childhood is full of wonder and imagination, but not all of it is good. At a young age we were led to believe things like magic and fairy tales were real, empowering our imaginations to grow. We had imaginary friends, fought fake battles, and defeated scores of enemies,

all powered by nothing more than our own minds. A simple stick could be a blade, rifle, or a weapon, or a gun. magic wand. The shadows and misshapen trees easily stood for towering enemies, taking the same imagination that turned us into unstoppable warriors on pretend battlefields. It turned dark when it came time for bed. When we put down our pretend weapons and crawled under warm covers, the darkness became a whole different kind of enemy. It was one that could only be fought with a flashlight or nightlight. though the battle wasn't really against the darkness, so much as it became a different kind of battlefield. The enemy used the darkness to hide and creep up on us, and they were crafty in their musings.

Monsters would mysteriously sneak into our rooms, using portals they opened under our beds or in the closets. I was seven when I first took notice of them. They were small at first, anywhere from the size of a room. rabbit to a medium-sized dog. With sharp-toothy grins and darkly scaled skin, they paraded around my room in tattered clothing. They created mischief, moving things around in the middle of the night, but surprisingly, not leaving behind the dirt that was caked onto their feet. If there ever was a time I couldn't find a shoe or my homework assignment went missing, the little monsters were surely behind it. I wasn't the only one who saw them.

Some of my friends at school swore they'd seen them too. When asked to describe them, we all had similar impressions of their features. This had to be more than just imagination. Otherwise, all of the descriptions would have been different. Maybe there'd be some similarities, but not as closely depicted as each of us perceived. That was proof enough for us, and we wielded that knowledge as truth. Parents were too old to believe in these things and told us it was only our imaginations despite our arguments.

My father would only look under the bed and in the closet so many times before he told me it was time to grow up. I was nine and needed to put away such childish things. At the time, I didn't know what he meant, so naturally I did nothing different. I mean, how was a nine-year-old supposed to turn off their imagination? Both he and my mother had encouraged my imagination with bedtime stories, but now that it was inconveniencing them,

it was suddenly time to grow up. He took away not only my nightlight, but my flashlight as well. I was forced to face the darkness without a weapon. As I got older, the monsters didn't stop coming. If anything, they started getting bigger and more horrendous, Gaping maws with rows of jagged teeth, thick drool falling from their open mouths, eyes that seemed to glow but never cast any light. They stood tall like an adult, usually having too many limbs to be mistaken for human.

I'd never seen a horror movie, but I often thought the monsters in those movies would look like this. I tried to sneak a flashlight into my room, but there were only a few in the house, and capped out of my reach. The monster's intentions also changed, wanting more than to be mischievous. They wanted us to be afraid of them, or fear was sweet to them like candy to kids on Halloween, only their Halloween wasn't limited to one night,

but nearly every night. Obviously I had troubles going to sleep, something that didn't go unnoticed by my parents, but they originally decided to let me work it out in my own time. time. When my school grades started suffering and I kept getting in trouble for nodding off in class, my parents realized something had to be done. They made appointments for me to see a doctor, but not a head doctor like I figured they would. The clinic I was sent to was for sleep studies, and the rooms they had for patients didn't have closets. There wasn't even empty space underneath the

beds. A setup like this was the only place I felt safe enough to sleep, and I slept like the dead. The tests couldn't detect anything wrong with my ability to achieve deep in R.E.M. sleep. I was out for a solid eight hours every time. The doctors were confused, and my parents didn't know what to make of it. Adults never believed any of us kids when we talked about the monsters. So when the doctor asked me questions, I kept any and all comments about the nightmarish creatures to myself. After answering a lot of his questions, he started thinking that maybe my bed was the problem, that I wasn't comfortable at night. It helped to convince my parents to get me a new one, and the style I wanted didn't have any

empty space underneath. I picked a frame that had drawers underneath for more storage, but of course I wanted it so the monsters couldn't open their portals and crawl out. That only left them the closet to come through. As time went on, less of my friends claimed to be seeing the monsters. We were nearing a new chapter in our lives, an awkward one called puberty. Not only did our bodies change, but so did our minds. One by one, they stopped seeing those things in the closets and under beds until there was only one left. I had puberty just like the rest of them, but I still saw the monsters. At least now they only had one way to get in my room. I tried barricading the door, either by pushing my dresser in front

of it or wedging my desk chair against the doorknop. It never worked, and the monsters still came into my room without making a sound. By the time I reached my sophomore year, the creatures lurking around my room at night were truly hideous. All the others never laid a finger or claw on me, only desiring a taste of my fear through the air. It had seemed that as long as I remained under the covers, they couldn't physically hurt me. The same couldn't be said for these new ones, but my developing mind clued into something, and the revelation shocked me to my core. I don't think being under the sheets is what kept the monsters from harming me. Their entire existence was simply to frighten, and they didn't need to turn physical to accomplish that. The new ones don't appear to be

as easily satisfied. If they so desired, they could snatch me right out of my bed and drag me back to wherever they came from. I started sleeping with a baseball bat next to my bed after this idea popped into my head. By this point in my life, life, I stopped talking about the monsters altogether. No one believed me anymore, and the last time I brought it up to my friends, they looked at me like I was crazy. Growing up made them forget the horrors we saw, writing it all off as overactive imaginations of children.

Being a teenager was way scarier than some boogeyman that leaned over us while we slept. It occurred to me that if I shared my revelation with them, they'd change their minds, but I didn't. If they somehow believed me, they may never sleep soundly again. I couldn't do that to them, so I kept quiet. I was truly alone in this, not even being able to talk to my parents about it. My dad threatened to send me to a shrink if I didn't let this go back when I was 13. I really tried, but no matter what I did, the abominations kept coming into my room.

There were too many times that I'd actually drift off to sleep, only to wake up finding one of them looming over me. They always had a hand or claw reached out to grab me, and even though I woke up startled, I never screamed out. Once I became aware, they pulled back and slinked into a corner, waiting for me to fall asleep again. The next notable incident truly frightened me. It wasn't the presence of one of those,

monsters that startled me awake, but a sharp pain in my right calf muscle. I'd woken up from a charlie horse before, but this was the worst one yet. Come to find out, it hadn't been a Charlie horse after all. I flipped the light on quickly and found blood on my sheets. One of the blasted monsters had actually gotten me. I know this because there was blood on the closet doorknob. One time I managed to reach for the baseball bat and took a swing at the monstrosity. The wood connected with something solid, and I distinctly heard a grunt of pain. Reaching over to my bedside lamp, I quickly turned it on, afraid I'd just hit my mom or dad. When the bright light flooded the room, there was nothing to see. Neither of my parents were there, nor was there a hulking mass of deformed flesh the color

of infected pus like I'd seen. I was beginning to think I really was crazy and always had been, but then I looked at the bat. There was a smear of some dark fluid on the end, and the smell it gave off was oddly sweet. It was monster blood. During my junior year, I was up late studying for a midterm and fell asleep at my desk. The light was on, and thanks to my nearly constant nightly visitors, I'd been consistently tired enough that I completely conked out. It was the best night of sleep I could remember having since my parents took me to get those sleep studies. From that day on, I slept with the lights on. For a good long while, I was getting regular sleep again.

As long as the light was on, I could relax with the knowledge that my nightly visitors wouldn't be making a house call. When I started the second semester of my senior year, I'd somehow nearly forgotten about the monsters. but I got a horrible reminder. My parents were away for the weekend, and I had the house to myself. As usual, I fell asleep with the light on, but something happened during the night. There wasn't a storm or anything like that,

but the house randomly lost power. I never did find out what caused the outage. While asleep, I felt the unmistakable presence of another person, and it woke me up. I could hear it before I saw it, and slowly I opened my eyes to slits. It towered over me, its ugly head nearly touching the ceiling. The head and mouth were shaped like a bears, but the eyes were more like a fish. There were even slits on both sides of its neck that looked a lot like gills. The thing's neck widened out as it met the torso but didn't meet up with the shoulders. No, this thing had four small T-Rex-like arms on its chest, but there were several

tails that were easily four feet long. They moved behind it with excited wags, stirring the air stronger than my ceiling fan had ever done. I was so damn scared, but I did everything I could to stay as still as possible. Leaving my hand under the covers, I slowly reached over to my nightstand and the baseball bat that was still there. One of those long tails started snaking across the bed, just as my hand poked out of the sheet. As fast as I could, I grabbed the bat and swung it up. The end collided with the side of that bearhead,

and the creature jumped back with a ferocious roar. Those tails flared out at its back, making the monster seem a lot bigger than it had a moment ago. Any other time, this would have scared me enough to reach for the light, but I didn't. I hadn't known the power was out at that point, but in that moment it didn't matter. These things have been tormenting me for their own pleasure my whole life. I was done being scared of them. I was royally pissed off in looking to do what only one of those creatures had managed to do. I was going to make the monster bleed. Jumping out of bed, I gripped the bat with both hands

and started wailing on the monstrosity. It tried to defend itself, but those small T-Rex arms couldn't reach me without coming into swinging range. Those tails whipped out at me and hit with the force of a boxer's punch, but my adrenaline was pumping,

allowing me to keep going despite the pain. Blood splattered across my walls, over my bed sheets, and on my face. The monster started moving from my closet door, and I swung hard into its leg. It went down hard, landing half in, half out of the closet. For a moment, I watched it writhe on the ground, but then it started pulling itself into the closet. I never saw any of those things come or go, but I wasn't going to miss it this time.

In the middle of my closet floor was a nearly perfect circular hole. The monster began slithering its way through the hole, but I wasn't done yet. This was my chance to get some payback For all the shit these things have put me through And I wasn't going to get sold short Swinging the bat like an axe I kept pounding on the creature's legs It started falling through the hole

But I still wasn't done yet Dropping the bat I reached down and grabbed hold of the monster's legs It was too heavy for me to prevent it from going But I wasn't letting go The damn thing nearly dragged me me down the hole, but when nearly half of me was dangling down, I finally let it go. Watching as the thing hit the floor, I found that I wasn't looking down to the first floor of my

house. It really was a portal to another world, and I was finally seeing where these things were coming from. I wasn't looking into someone else's house, but what appeared to be a subterranean community. The monster I'd been pounding on lay on the ground looking up at me. Its body was covered in blood, and it weakly roared up at me before collapsing. Caught up in the moment, I nearly jumped down to finish the beast off, but I didn't. It was a good ten-foot drop, and if I went then, I hadn't a clue how I was going to get back. On top of that, I had no idea how these things opened and closed these portals either. It didn't look like Bearhead was in any position to close the hole, so I decided to do something about it.

I rushed down to the garage and started grabbing things. The old steering wheel lock my mom stopped using when she got her new car, rope, a pair of gloves, a crowbar, and my dad's machete. Rushing back upstairs, I quickly stuck the steering wheel lock on the edges of the hole and locked it in place. It perfectly bisected the hole, and it was just barely big enough for me to get through. Tying the rope to the lock, I decided to change out of my pajamas and into some real clothes, jeans, a T-shirt, and most importantly, shoes.

By the time I was ready, other monsters had come to Bearhead's aid. They were trying to help him up, but became alarmed when I dropped the rope down on them. None of them had noticed the portal was still open. Wearing the gloves, I slid down the rope and immediately started swinging the crowbar. and machete. I growled out a war cry and went into a frenzy. Day after day, year after year, these things crept into my room while I slept. They startled me awake and plagued my nightmare so badly that even at 17 I was afraid of the dark. I'd been timid and easily frightened because, unlike everyone else, I knew there were real monsters that hid in the shadows. I wasn't just angry

as I attacked these horrific beasts. I was full of rage. It was a side of me that I hadn't known existed. I hacked and slashed for all I was worth. They tried to defend, even landed some solid hits, but I was unstoppable. At one point, the curved end of the crowbar hooked a monster behind its neck.

I pulled it closer to me as I thrust the machete forward, impaling the last-standing monster. It fell in a gurgled head as it chugged. choked on its own blood. Covered head to toe in blood and gore, I surveyed the damage. The sweet-scented goop was everywhere, and even though my enemies were dead,

I couldn't calm down. It was like something inside me woke up and was thirsty for more carnage. Normally, I'm not a violent person, but the moment I got the upper hand on barehead, I couldn't seem to stop. The monster blood smelled so sweet and without thinking, I licked my lips.

The taste was like nothing I'd ever experienced before, and I started licking it off the back of my hands. Oh my God, it was so damn good. As I got more into my body, I could feel a heat spreading through me. My body was on overdrive. and my heart was pounding in my chest with more adrenaline than ever before.

It made me wonder if this was what it was like to do drugs. And if it was, then I finally understood why people injected and snorted such poisons. Part of me wanted to explore my new surroundings, but it was getting late. My parents were due back in the morning, and I had to clean the mess in my room. Then there was the matter of the portal. If I went back through and removed the steering wheel lock, then a monster could come by and simply close the portal. I figured that after killing a few of them,

there wouldn't be another monster coming to creep up on me while I slept. If on the off-chance one did, things would probably get physical again, and I was sure the monster would make it a true sneak attack. I was no longer a pretend warrior, and real warriors die on the battlefield, not sleeping in their beds. There was an opportunity here.

I could finally prove to everyone once and for all that monsters do exist. Or I could simply go back through, better equipped, and get some more of that sweet, sweet monster blood. Seriously, I was instantly addicted to this stuff. It was like candy steroids, making my body burn hotter, but making me fast. faster and stronger, too. I climbed the rope and pulled myself through the hole with very little effort. Before I did anything else, I went back to the garage and grabbed a two-foot square of plywood. I used it to cover the portal and piled a bunch of stuff on top of it in hopes of keeping anything from coming through. I'd later put something together that did a better job, but for the time

it served its purpose. The high I was experiencing. from the monster blood helped me get my room in order rather quickly. By the time my parents got back home, I came down and slept most of the Sunday away. Coming down sucked, but aside from being extremely tired, there didn't seem to be any side effects. Over the last year, I've made excursions into their world every few weeks, but they're starting to get crafty. It used to be that I could find one of the beasts sleeping in a cave or something and sneak up on it, much like they used to do to me. But they're learning. I'm telling you all this because I'm planning on going through the portal in the next couple of days,

and I'm trying to put a team together. Just a couple people, four at most. So how about it? Are you interested in traveling to another world in order to kill some monsters? I promise you, their blood is the best hot. you will ever experience. For more information on this podcast, including how to submit your own story for consideration, please visit creepypod.com.

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