Creepy - Cairns & My Wife Came Home Late Last Night

Episode Date: June 9, 2022

Cairns***Written by: Robert Loyd and Narrated by: JV Hampton-VanSant***My wife came home late last night, but whatever that thing was on my security camera, it sure wasn't her***Written by: GhostAtTheFeast22 and Narrated by: Nate DuFort ***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. Cairns. Written by Robert Lloyd and narrated by J.V. Hampton Van Sant. They live. The words read. They were painted on the vertical support of a bridge crossing the Pigeon River along I-40 near the Tennessee, North Carolina, border. I saw these words when I set out for a run along the Appalachian Trail. I had no idea what they

meant, but I do now. Every part of me wishes that I didn't. That weekend, I was going to meet my family in Cherokee, North Carolina, for a vacation in the mountains. My wife and kids were home, waiting for her parents' flight to arrive in Raleigh from Alaska. I had had a particularly rough week at work, and my wife agreed that it might be a good idea for me to get out on the trails to clear my head. I had recently started training to run my first 100-mile ultramarathon, and I needed to get in a good long run before we got busy being tourists. The section of the AT that I was running that weekend,

I'd found on a map of the trail that I have hung on the wall of my man cave at home. I had made plans to get out to the trailhead the night before my wife was going to pick up her parents and head to Cherokee. The plan was to park my Jeep near Browns, Tennessee, and then run the trail from there to Clingman's Dome. It's not actually Klingman's, but a saddle along the ridge that leads there, a place called Newfound Gap, where the borders of Tennessee and North Carolina meet. Total distance, right at 30 miles. This section of the AT follows the ridge line that makes up this border.

It's a rugged and remote area, but it wasn't an area I wasn't familiar with. I've been to this and numerous other sections. I'd even completed a through hike of the entire trail shortly after graduating from college in 2005. It was my finding myself trip, something I think drives so many Appalachian Trail hikers to make such a grueling trek.

To be honest, you do find yourself out there. You also find a lot of other people out there as well. You run into them over and over again. They'll pass you, you'll pass them, and you'll come out on the summit of Cadidin to them or their name there when you finish. My entire run was scheduled down to the time.

I'd get to the trailhead by 6 p.m., sleep in my Jeep, and start early the next morning. Wake up was going to be at 4.30 a.m. so that I could get a good breakfast of oatmeal, two eggs, four strips of bacon, and orange juice that I'd pack in my cooler for the drive out from Raleigh the night prior. I'd be carrying all the water I'd need to see me through the run, two 24-ounce-hand bottles, and a 2-liter hydration pack. The hydration pack had extra pockets where I'd keep some trail food and electrolyte capsules as well. The single out-of-place event was the pre-run smoke.

I had quit smoking many years before, but for whatever reason, I liked to pack a single cigarette to calm my nerves before taking off. I'd finish my cough-inducing reminder of why I quit by 5.55 a.m. sharp. After this morning ritual, I'd be on the trail from 6 a.m. until I reached the gap. My wife worries about me when I go out on these sorts of runs. They are, after all, a bit ridiculous, and you have to be marginally unbalanced to engage in this activity. After her standard protestations, she left it with a simple request.

Be safe. The drive-out was not only uneventful, but faster than I had planned by an hour. I made it to the trailhead by 5 p.m. With plenty of light left in the day, I decided to go for a short, easy run north along the Appalachian Trail from my parking spot under the bridge,

back across under the I-40 underpass. I followed the AT Blaze, a modern version of the ancient and largely disused cairn marking system, and up the stone stairs that led up onto Max Patch Mountain. Max Patch tops out at 4,620 feet above sea level. But I was only going to the sign for a standing bear, 1.3 miles down this trail.

I'm only outlining this run because it was on the way back that I actually noticed the words. They were scrawled very clearly and deliberately, 12 inches high, and in all capitals. They live. I laughed, thinking back to the rowdy, rotty-potty-piper movie of the same name. Consume, I remember thinking to myself as I made it back to my parking spot campsite and prepared for some ramen for dinner. I awoke the next morning earlier than I had planned and moved along my pre-run routine faster than I'd expected. I'd cooked and ate breakfast by 5 a.m. and packed my water and trail food by 5.15. I felt as though there was someone pushing me along.

Get out on that trail, the unheard voice urged. I obliged. Even holding off my smoke until 5.30 didn't make much difference. I was ready to leave by 535. I should have known there was something wrong, that there was something amiss. The sun wasn't up yet, but the internal voice told me to dig out my headlamp and run. Scrit, I thought, no point waiting for the sun. He'll catch up with me. And then I ran off into the woods and into the strangest day of my life.

This section of trail starts off with an upward climb of switchback, and creek crossings that feel as though they go up for a mile or more. In the pre-dawn hours, it could be dangerous, so I took my time, no reason to kill myself trying to have fun. The sunrise had still not come when I started to feel like I was being followed. They live was all I could think when those. Those noises began coming from different sections along the trail. First, it was twigs snapping and the sounds of scuffling nylon, like tents being shaken out.

Just hikers, I thought, and kept running. Then came the labored footsteps and heavy breathing along the darkened path. Just the breeze, I assured myself. When the sun began to shine through the trees, I began to hear the voices. I looked down at my watch. I was only six miles into the run. I was breathing heavily, but I felt good. The trail has a wonderful calming effect.

I could see well enough in the breaking dawn, so I took my headlamp off and stopped. to put it away quickly. Two men came from around the bend in the trail ahead of me, and they looked like hell. Their gear was tattered, and their clothes were heavily soiled, not on uncommon sight. But they were walking as though they hadn't a care in the world. They joked as they walked past me. I waved and asked them if they were all right. They said, nothing in response, and were around the next bend before I could turn to watch them go. I stepped back into the middle of the trail, looking in the direction the two men had just gone. The entire situation was puzzling. Most people jumped at the chance to stop for a short talk

with others along the trail. But I had to be back at the saddle by 3 p.m., and I still had a long way to go. When I turned to start running again, I nearly tripped over a stack of rocks in the middle of the trail. It was a cairn. Cairns are a stack of rocks that have been used as guidepoints for hundreds, if not thousands, of years, to mark trails, among other purposes. Nowadays, they use painted blazes on rocks and trees. The A.T.'s blaze is a big. white square. Not wanting to offend the trail gods, I stepped over the cairn and started running again. The sun had not yet started to warm up the air, but there was a fog forming in the understory.

I love the fog, and I picked up my pace as it rose. The sounds were becoming more pronounced as I made my way along the trail. Four people were. were leaving a shelter to head out for the day at one point, and I waved at them as I passed by. Only the girl in the back of the group seemed to notice me. She looked shocked at my appearance out of the fog. I kept running. It was nearly 10 a.m. when I came to the halfway mark near Camel Hump Mountain. By this time, I'd passed several high.

hikers who'd regarded me not at all. The one or two that did were with the expression of the girl from earlier in the day. I pulled a few gels from my pack and choked them down. Vanilla. I never really liked the flavor. My wife had bought them,

and while I appreciate her support, I can't stand them. But I never completely. I washed them down with what little remained of my hand bottle and kept running. I was hitting my stride by this point, and I wanted to keep the momentum going. There's a pretty big climb going up to Silver County, Tennessee, and on to Mount Goyett. After that, it would be a largely downhill trajectory from there to Charles. and finally into newfound gap, where I'd meet my family.

I was coming down the hill when the girl came around the corner. We were both equally shocked to run into one another, and I fell down the mountain a bit as I tried to miss her. I caught myself and climbed back up to the trail with her help. You okay? She asked. Yeah, you? I replied, brushing myself off.

Sure. I'm not the one of us that fell down the mountain. She laughed. We were at the bend in the trail that rounds around the peak of Mount Goyett. The elevation was around 6,300 feet. There are no towns out here. You can, if you listen carefully, hear vehicles driving down the high. Highway 74 to the west. I assumed she was just another through hiker,

same as every other one I'd been passing most of the day. How long have you been out here? I asked. A while. I've lost track of time out here, she said. You picked up a name yet? It's not uncommon to get a trail name while out on the AT. my own had been mule. The people who had given it to me said

I'd packed more than they thought I needed, but that the effort of carrying it never seemed to bother me. She laughed. Yeah, foxglove. The name had a ring of familiarity. How do you get that name? I asked with a smile.

She turned slightly. Some of the guys back at Newfound Gap gave it to me. Said my pack looked like a foxglove bosom because of the color purple. Well, that fits, I guess. I laughed. What about your real name, Off Trail? Oh, Maggie Smalls. She took a sip of water from her canteen, an old metal miller. military surplus model that seemed out of place for the time.

But thinking back, Maggie seemed out of place for the times, but nonetheless familiar. Your jacket, I began pointing to a small hole near her chest. What happened? Not really sure. Must have caught it on a branch somewhere along the way. Where are you from? "'Newport, Tennessee,' she replied. "'You?' "'I told her I was from Raleigh,

"'and that was about the time I noticed the cairn at our feet. "'She noticed it as well and said, "'These have been all along the trails. "'They're comforting.' "'Why do you say that?' "'I asked, slightly confused. "'I think they're wondering. She continued.

Like, no matter how long I've been out here, every time I see one, I know that a fellow traveler has been here before, and I don't feel so alone. Yeah, I guess I never thought of them that way. Well, Mule, I'd better be getting on down the trail. Hope you have a good rest of your run. she said as she walked past me. She was already headed around the bend in the trail when I realized that I hadn't given her my trail name.

I turned just in time to see her purple foxglove blossom backpack going out of sight around the bend. It was near noon, and I still had several more miles to go. I decided to forget. about Foxglove and her knowing my name, and ran off down the trail towards the gap, making sure to step over the cairn. I started looking for the cairns along the trail from then on. Most of the time, there was nothing when they were placed to the side of the trail.

But the ones in the middle were always accompanied by the sounds I'd heard throughout the day, laughing scuffles of nylon, then the people hurt or bruised walking without a care. I came off the trail to where my wife was standing near the large stone monument that marks the spot where the borders meet. There were tears streaming down her face

as I leaned in to give her a kiss. She shuddered a bit, and said, I love you so much. I miss you, she continued. This has been happening for longer than I can recall. I come off the trail to see her there,

crying like the day they told her my body had been found. They found me two days after I'd missed my meetup time. I hadn't seen the bear nor her cubs when I came around the corner of the trail near Camel Hump. Much like how Maggie hadn't expected to be shot the day after my friends and I had given her the name, Foxglove, as we were leaving the gap. My wife comes to the gap each year on the anniversary, and each year, even though she doesn't see me standing there. I'll give her a kiss that makes her shudder,

only to wake up the next morning back under the bridge too early. I'll eat my breakfast too soon. I'll start running too soon. And then I'll make it to the gap on that same day each year. Too late. The one thing I wish I'd, could forget is that cairns are also used to mark the spot where a person has passed on or been buried. My own was built by my wife and kids at the spot where I was found. If you think like

Maggie, they can be a sign that you are not alone along the trail. They can bring solace in times like these. So please. Step lightly when you see the cairns in the middle of the path. We still live here, even once we're gone. Creepy presents. My wife came home last night, but whatever that thing was on my security camera, it sure wasn't her. Written by Ghost at the Feast 22, and narrated by need to for it. I'm writing this at my neighbor's house, where we're currently waiting for the police. I suppose I'll tell them the same thing I told Jack when I came banging on his door this morning.

I can't exactly tell them the truth. They wouldn't believe a word of it. And I can't say I'd blame them. I'm not sure why I'm even telling you, except you may be the only people who would believe me, and I have to tell someone, or I think I'll lose my damn mind. For context, my house sits on a good amount of land that sits next to a large open field to the left of it. There's a few acres of trees beyond the field, a small forest, as my wife likes to say. Our closest neighbor, Jack, lives about a mile and a half down the road, so we pretty much have the space all to ourselves, our own little pocket of paradise.

beautiful and safe. Well, that's how I used to think of it. Now I don't feel safe here. Not at all. It's tainted to me now. And I don't know what to do. I've never seen anything like this before. If anyone hearing this has ever been in a similar situation or possibly knows what it could be and most importantly what I can do, please reach out. Last spring, Michelle, my wife, thought it would be a good idea to get one of those doorbell cameras. We'd had some things go missing as well as some minor destruction on our property. Nothing too serious, just a few broken flower pots and some missing lawn ornaments. I tried to tell her it was probably some teenagers from town, just finding something exciting to do,

but she wouldn't hear of it. She didn't care about the flower pots or lawn ornaments. that much, but she didn't want the situation to escalate into a home invasion. I thought that was a little dramatic, but I knew when to keep my mouth shut. So we bought the camera, and I installed it the same day, right up by our porch light so that we could get a view of the front door and as much of the front of our property in the shot as possible. After two days, we finally solved the mystery of the missing lawn decor. You probably already figured it out.

If you guessed two raccoons, you'd be dead on. It was kind of hilarious watching them scooping up my wife's solar garden lights and carrying them off on two legs. Watching them running away with those bright blue bulbs in their hands like two little burglars was pretty funny. They even looked apart with those masks. Even Michelle couldn't keep a straight face. I wondered what they were doing with all the stolen goods, maybe sprucing up their digs out in the forest. Michelle started putting out bowls of cat kibble,

and amazingly, the thievery stopped. We still kept the camera up, though. Turns out it would come in handy. Michelle's been out of town for work for the last four days. She was supposed to be home last night around dinner, but called to tell me the plane had been delayed and she wouldn't be home until 4 a.m. or later. I told her I loved her and I'd see her when she came home. And that was that. It was an average night, nothing out of the ordinary. I straightened up the house so she wouldn't

come home to a disaster. I made some soup for dinner and fed the cat. After, me and Mona curled up on the couch together, me watching TV while she purred on my chest. I went to sleep. I'd only slept a little over an hour before I was woken up by an alert on my phone, a notification for the security camera. Now, it wasn't unusual to get an alert, especially late at night. It was always some little critter, a fox or raccoon. But I grabbed my phone off my nightstand to check anyway. It was well after two, and my immediate thought was that Michelle had gotten home earlier than she thought she would.

I laid there listening for the sound of Michelle letting herself in, but it never came. Only silence. I groaned, figuring she'd forgotten her keys. Wouldn't be the first time. She was notorious for leaving them behind. Probably forgot them at the hotel or airport. I didn't jump right up to check, though, as I still hadn't heard her knock. So I opened the app and pulled up the light.

feet. Michelle was standing on the front porch just staring at the door. I sat up, about to go let her in, when something stopped me. It was her face. She was smiling, not just any smile, but one that I'd never seen before. A weird, thin-lipped grin that stretched the width of her face, like someone trying to show off all their teeth. She stayed that way for a long moment like a creepy mannequin. After a minute, her lips slowly puckered out into a pout, as though she were an upset toddler. She held that expression for a minute. Then her lips dropped downwards, and a deep-set frown etched across her forehead.

I sat there in bed, staring at my wife, practicing different facial expressions, as if she were brain. Rand knew at such a concept. It was bizarre and a little unsettling. She continued to go through each movement, seem to take her time with each one. Smile, pout, frown, repeat. After watching her for nearly 15 minutes, I finally recovered from my shock and confusion

and pressed the intercom. Bame? "'What on earth are you doing?' I said. Her head snapped towards the camera, looking up at it with wide eyes. It was as if she'd forgotten the camera was even there. Her mouth was partially hanging open on one side, caught between a smile and a frown. She didn't answer me, only continued to stare. Her face, frozen, in that disturbing look.

I waited for a long moment, unsure how to proceed. The longer I watched her, the more I realized just how strange she looked. I didn't notice at first being half asleep, but now that I was wide awake, it was so obvious that I wondered how I could have not noticed immediately. For starters, she seemed much taller. The top of her head came to just over the little rod we used to hang our different holiday flags. to stand on my tiptoes to be able to reach. That wasn't the only odd thing about her.

Her arms were much too long, hanging down past her knees. Even her face was different. It resembled her, enough that it wasn't instantly noticeable. But when I really looked, I could see that her face seemed more narrow, as if it had been stretched from the top of her head to her jaw. and the skin looked too tight, as if it were two sizes too small, the bones underneath pushing hard against the flesh. I was beginning to panic at that point. I didn't know if she'd been in some horrible accident or what, but I knew something was very wrong with her.

Honey, are you hurt? I asked, my voice shaking. In response to my question, Michelle stamped her foot down on the porch, hard, shaking her head. Before I could say anything else, she reached out and took hold of the doorknob and jiggled it fiercely. I was instantly filled with dread at the mere thought of her getting in. I'm not letting you inside, I said quickly. I could hear her jiggling the knob frantically, her face still staring up at the camera. She finally let go after a few minutes and made a sound almost like laughing. The sound of it made my skin crawl.

I'm home, she said. Her voice like her face was similar, but not a complete match. It went from nasally to almost babylike. I'm home. Open the door. I almost closed the app and called 911 right then and there, but I'll admit, I was afraid my wife was having some sort of medical emergency. Maybe I should call for help, I said.

She shook her head again, her long hair whipping from side to side. Then something happened and that image will stick with me for the rest of my life. Michelle, or the thing that was desperately trying to be her, seemed to stretch right in front of my eyes. Her torso thinned out and grew so that her head, slid against the ceiling. Its skin looked so tight that I could actually hear it pulling, wobbling and rubber-like. It had obvious trouble staying on two feet, but it managed. It tried to close its mouth, but it couldn't do it completely, and its jaw just sort of hung there

against its chest. I'm calling the police, I shouted, fear overwhelming me. The moment the words left my mouth. Her face twisted in a look of pure hatred. It was like I could feel it radiating through the screen. I'd never seen such hate and rage in my life, certainly not on my wife's face. Quick as a flash she dropped down under the porch and crawled down the steps and onto the lawn. I watched in horror as she crawled towards the field. Her long arms bent at sickening angles. She reached the edge of the field and disappeared in the tall grass. I sat watching the screen, my heart racing. I was too afraid to look away, even for a moment.

After an hour without seeing her again, I finally felt safe enough to set the phone down and try to sleep. I thought about calling my wife, but part of me was too scared I'd hear that poor imitation on the other end. I fell into a restless sleep sometime later. I didn't sleep long before my phone woke me again. Another notification. I pulled up the app and held my breath, terrified at what I'd see.

When the feed came up, I knew right away that I was looking at my wife. Relief flooded my body. She was standing on the porch or suitcase at her feet as she rummaged through her purse, probably searching for her keys. Lost your keys again? I said, pressing the intercom. She jumped at the sound of my voice, almost dropping her purse.

You're up, she said smiling. Looks like I've lost my keys. Mind letting me in? She said, batting her eyes up at the camera. I couldn't help but smile. She always had a way of making me feel completely at ease, even after witnessing a nightmare just hours prior. I suppose I wouldn't be a very good husband if I let you sleep on the porch all night, I teased.

She grinned up at me, and I told her to hang on. I sat up and slipped on my slippers and got to my feet. That's when I caught some movement on the screen. Far off in the field, a head rose up from the grass, standing tall on a neck much too long to come from anything human. A whimper escaped my lip. and I nearly dropped my phone. I was glued to the floor and able to look away from that thing watching my house.

The head bobbed slightly and the body rose upwards to meet the head like a slinky sliding back in position. It stood in the field, watching. Then to my terror, it began shuffling quickly towards the house on jerky legs. I couldn't help but scream. It was coming from my wife and it was coming from my wife. was coming fast, even with its unstable gate. I ran down the hall, dropping my phone in the process, skipping steps as I raced down them.

I lost my footing when I hit the bottom and skidded across the front hall, colliding into the front door. I was screaming and coherently fumbling with the locks. I could hear my wife's concerned voice asking what was wrong. Then just as I was working to flip her deadbolt, I heard her scream, this time in pure fear. I finally managed to flip the deadbolt and rip the door open, taking a handful of her jacket and yanking her inside, locking the door behind her. I leaned against the door, panting hard.

I heard a muffled thump on the porch, but then it was quiet. My wife was scared, pale and in tears. She refused to talk about what she'd seen and didn't want to see the footage of the thing on our porch. I let her get some sleep assuring her that the house was secure I stayed up checking the windows in the live feed I watched the field for any sign of that thing

but it seemed like it was gone soon after Michelle went to sleep I decided to look at the video to see if I could tell where it went off to I was scared to see it again maybe that's why I waited I pulled up the video and watched

that thing shambling across the field towards my house. Its long arms outstretched and a look of longing on its face. Its smile was terrible, the closer it got. I saw my wife on the screen, growing worried as she heard me screaming through the house, totally unaware of the danger she was in, of the thing that was just mere feet behind her. I could barely make it through the entire video, watching it get closer and closer.

Just as it reached the porch, I could hear myself trying to unlock the door. But seconds before I pulled it open, those long arms reached out, gripping my wife by her shoulders and ripping her backwards off the porch, my wife able to scream only once. I didn't see what it did with her,

but I did see it step up on, to the porch, positioning itself in front of the door, its limbs adjusting to a more human appearance, just before my hand shot out to pull it inside. That thing grinned up at the camera, its lips stretched impossibly wide. For a moment, I almost didn't believe it. It was as if my brain wouldn't allow it. but as I stood in the hallway, attempting to process what I'd seen and what that meant, I heard the unmistakable sound of something shuffling up behind me.

I ran then. I didn't look behind me. I didn't want to see what I knew I would see, something eerily similar to my wife, with gangly limbs and skin stretched taut over the sharp bones. I knew if I looked back my mind would snap and I'd never recover. I ran faster than I ever have, tearing off out of the house and down the road, too terrified to look back even once. Sure, I'd seen those long arms desperately reaching for me.

I made it to my neighbor's house and pounded on the door. I told him that there was an intruder. I didn't know what else to say. he'd never believe the truth. We went back to my house armed with Jack's rifle, but of course the house was empty. We couldn't find Michelle either. All we found were what looked like drag marks through my lawn,

running right through the field. I didn't have to look at the video to know what made those tracks. We searched the field in the woods but didn't find much other than some strands of hair that looked an awful lot like Michelle's. The hair was high up on a branch in a tree that would be extremely difficult to climb. Jack said it must have been a bird that had done it, flew the hair up there for nesting material. I guess he didn't see the blood splatter along the trunk.

We eventually went back to Jack's place and called the police. Jack thought it best. I agreed, but I know it won't make much of a difference. Michelle is long gone by now. I just hope she didn't suffer. The guilt I feel for not saving her, for not knowing that thing wasn't my wife, is so profound it aches to breathe.

I deleted the videos. I couldn't bear to watch them again. I think my mind would have broke completely if I had. The police are here, finally done with their search of the woods. I guess I'll have to go through the motions. It's not like I have any other choice. Not unless I want to spend the rest of my days in a padded room,

although considering the alternative, it's not a bad idea. If you have any experience with this or have any clue what I should do if it comes back, please let me know. I have a strong suspicion that it will be back. And God knows who it'll look like then. Because Jack's been acting a bit jittery ever since we came back from the woods.

And it may just be my imagination brought on by stress and grief. But Jack's skin seems to be stretched a little too thin. 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.

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